Page 8 of Second Chance Daddy
He doesn’t stop until I’m boneless and spent, slumped back against the windshield of my car.
“Holy shit,” I breathe.
He stands up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and the sight of him—hair messed up from my fingers, lips swollen from kissing me, eyes dark with satisfaction—is almost enough to make me come again.
“We’re not done,” he says, his voice rough.
Good. God, please don’t let us be done.
He reaches for his belt, and I watch, mesmerized, as he unbuckles it. The sound of his zipper is loud in the quiet night.
And his cock? My mouth goes dry.
“You good, sweetheart?” He grins.
I somehow nod.
“Words, Cassie.”
“I’m fine,” I breathe. “Just…” I spread my legs, because what else is there to do?
Dante smiles and steps between my legs like he’s about to finish what he started, the head of his cock pressing against my entrance.
“Last chance to change your mind,” he says, his forehead pressed against mine.
Change my mind? Is he insane?
“Shut up and fuck me, Romano.”
He grins—actually grins—and then he’s pushing into me, slow and steady, stretching me in the most delicious way.
Oh God. Oh God, he’s big.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” he groans, his hands gripping my hips.
“You’re huge,” I gasp, my nails digging into his shoulders.
He stills. “You okay?”
Okay? I’m better than okay. I’m transcendent.
“More,” I demand. “Give me more.”
He doesn’t need to be told twice. He pulls back and thrusts forward, burying himself to the hilt, and I see stars.
This is what I’ve been missing. This is what sex is supposed to feel like.
He sets a rhythm—slow at first, then faster, harder. The hood of my car creaks with every thrust, but I don’t care. I don’t care about anything except the way he feels inside me.
“God, Cassie,” he pants. “You feel so fucking good.”
He feels good too. He feels perfect.
My legs wrap around his waist, pulling him deeper, and he groans into my neck.
“Harder,” I whisper. “Please, harder.”
He obliges, pounding into me with a force that makes my eyes roll back. The angle is perfect, hitting that spot inside me that makes me see fireworks.
