Page 41 of Damaged Billionaire Daddy
It was a dangerous game. I nearly exploded right then, so I kept her a little farther away, teasing her until she whimpered with desire.
I pulled her up a little higher and pushed up her top so I could get to her breasts. Her nipples hardened to little pebbles as the cold air rushed in under the blankets as I shifted her. I loved them with my tongue, first one then the other.
She moaned and shifted to give me more of her breasts. The fuzzy pj top fell down over them, hiding them from me. Impatient, she kneeled up and yanked the top off. “Brrr!” she gasped, trying to pull the blanket back over us as she snuggled into my chest.
It wasn’t my first time to have a sexual romp in the cold, so I quickly tented the covers around us, making sure to trap our aroma with the warmed air. It made me want her even more, and I had a hard time holding back.
But it was fun to tease her. This was the perfect end to a wonderful day, and I didn’t want it to stop too soon.
Kandis braced herself on her elbows and rose up on her toes in a nearly perfect plank position. She wiggled her hips, trying to capture the tip of my cock in her moist warmth.
I let her try for a few minutes, until she collapsed on me in frustration. Then I helped her lift her hips again, positioned myself, the slowly lowered her down on me.
She was like velvet fire, hot, moist, tight, and almost mindless with longing. She didn’t use any technique at all, just a young wild thing’s instinctual seeking after pleasure.
I guided her, keeping our movements slow. I used my thumb to tease her clit as she rode me, driving her to new heights of eagerness.
When she completely lost control, I began pumping in and out, guiding her hips until we found a mutual rhythm, a piston driving in and out with an age-old mechanical motion, driving us to the inevitable volcanic explosion.
She climaxed, pushing down on me, trying to take in every inch and striving for more. That drove me over the edge, and I joined her in a volcanic orgasm that rocked her into a series of aftershocks.
We clung together, trying to keep our joining until nature exacted its toll, and we slid apart.
“Messy,” she murmured, but so cold out there.”
“I know,” I said. “I prepared.” I reached for a roll of toilet paper and a package of wipes.
After that, we were both too worn out to do more than cuddle. “I could get used to this,” I thought, even though her warm weight was straining my bad shoulder.
Her breaths were even and slow. Soon, mine matched hers, and I fell asleep without remembering to take any pain pills.
Chapter seventeen
Kandis
I awoke to chill daylight streaming though the cabin windows. Big clumps of snowflakes continued to fall outside. Richard lay beside me, the whole gorgeous length of him.
He was on his back, breathing easily, with one arm flung up over his head. A man who didn’t snore? There had to be some kind of bonus point for that.
I thought about waking him up. But he had driven up here last night, gotten the fire and generator started, and still had enough energy for totally amazing sex before we went to sleep. He had to be tired, and besides, I could use a little thinking time to myself.
I slid out from under the covers and padded over to the sink to get a drink of water, then slipped into the cabin’s pint-sized bathroom. At least I wouldn’t have to use a bucket or shovel my way to an outhouse. Richard’s grandfather might have built the place, but it had obviously been renovated.
The water to the sink was cold. Apparently, renovationsdid not run to water heaters. Still, it was better than scooping snow and melting it.
Although . . . hadn’t there been a bottle of maple syrup in the supplies? I vaguely remembered a children’s book where they had made candy by pouring syrup into cold snow. If we got bored, it might be something fun to try.
I rummaged through the cabinets. In addition to the huge shopping cart of food Richard bought yesterday, the cabin was already well stocked with staples.
I found a coffee grinder and coffee beans. Flour, salt, baking powder, and even a bottle of dried yeast. Would we be here long enough to make it worthwhile to bake bread? Or make sourdough?
I shook my head at myself. We were only here for the weekend, not moving in. With the snow falling outside, it was easy to forget that there was anyplace else in the world.
In the name of domesticity, I went over to the small stove, and opened its door. A few coals remained among the ashes. Thanks to the furnace in the basement, the house wasn’t cold, but a little added warmth wouldn’t hurt. Besides, I didn’t see any other place to cook.
Before long, I had beans ground and the percolator on the stove with liquid beginning to splash up into the clear dome at the top.
I was just stirring up some pancakes using a mix, eggs and water, when Richard stirred, turned over and grunted. “What is that heavenly aroma? Is it you, or is it coffee?” he asked, swinging his feet to the floor.
