Page 99 of Pour Decisions
I huffed out a laugh. “What the fuck does that even mean?”
“You’re an alpha male. A leader. I don’t know how to explain it. It’s an intangible vibe certain men give off, and you have it in spades.” She studied me. “How doyoufeel about it?”
“Honestly? I’m hard as a statue.” I reached for her nearly empty plate, shuffling it and mine to the side.
“I wasn’t done with that!” she protested.
“I don’t care,” I said, turning her seat so I could grip her under the thighs and lift her onto the counter. “I’m ready for dessert.” I reached beneath the hem of my tee Delia wore, a faded black Mustangs’ one with my last name and number emblazoned on the back, gripping my boxers by the waistband. Delia lifted her hips and I slid the underwear off, tossing them unceremoniouslybehind me. Then I met her eyes as I added, “And daddy gets what daddy wants.”
Delia shivered, goosebumps breaking out on her arms and legs. She gripped the tee as though to pull it off, but I stilled her.
“Keep it on,” I said. “Lest you forget who you belong to.”
“Never.”
“That’s right, baby. You’re mine.” I lifted a hand and brushed my fingers over her lips. “This mouth.” Lower to her chest. “These tits.” Further south to the apex of her thighs. “This pretty pink pussy. You might as well get my name tattooed on all of it.”
Leaning back on her forearms, Delia opened her legs wide and anchored her heels on the edge of the counter, spreading herself wide for me.
“Eat up.”
She didn’t have to tell me twice, and with a growl, I dove in. I showed her no mercy as I licked her from back to front, then sealed my lips around her clit and sucked hard. She bucked against me, and I chuckled against her flesh, my tongue fluttering rapidly against that bundle of nerves. This was as much for me as it was for her; all of her pleasure was. I loved unraveling her, loved the way her thighs quaked and clamped around my head the closer she got. Lived for her noises, her murmured praises, her hoarse cries of my name.
The way she whimpered, “Daddy, please,” right as she approached that precipice.
Fuck, I was already hard as steel, but that stiffened me further, almost painfully so.
“That’s it, Whiskey,” I said as I shoved my fingers inside her and curled them against her inner wall. “Come for me.”
She blew apart, crying my name out as she shook, her pussy gripping me tightly and pulsing.
“O!” she screamed, and I didn’t know if it was an exclamation or a shortened version of my name, but I didn’t care.
“That’s right, pretty girl,” I murmured against her slick flesh. “O, as inOwen, theonlyman who can take care of you like this.”
“The only one,” she gasped out.
“My good girl,” I whispered, pressing a final kiss to her clit as she came down, licking her sweetness from my lips.
Then I rose and leaned over her, capturing her mouth with mine, letting her taste herself on my tongue. She came to me greedily, clenching my shirt in her fists, pulling me closer. I had half a mind to climb on top of her and fuck her right there.
We spent the rest of the day like that, alternately talking and tangling ourselves together, seeking pleasure. I was a man starved, like I’d been in the desert for too long without hydration, and she was an endless pool of fresh water. I finished showing her around my house, and we curled up in my small home theater, putting on one of her favorite 90s rom-coms while we shared stories.
She gave me a hand job that made a mess of my clothes, so I stripped, dragged her upstairs, bent her over the railing on the balcony off my bedroom, and fucked her from behind as punishment.
“Being bad is pretty fucking good,” she said afterward.
I gave zero fucks about anything outside of our bubble. I couldn’t have told you where my phone ended up after I’d used it to take photos of her the night before, and for the first time in a long time, my mind was as far from work as it could be.
There was only Delia.
It wasn’t just the sex, either, though that was all-consuming and mind blowing. Our connection was one I’d never experienced before and surely never would again—not that I wanted to. It was so easy to be with her, the way we moved around the house, making meals, conversing, discussing everything under the sun. It felt like we’d been doing it forever instead of only forty-eight hours.
I never wanted her to leave.
“Are we like…together now?” Delia asked on Sunday afternoon.
We were curled up in my bed, my front to her back, facing out toward the lake beyond my windows. Sweat from our recent joining was drying on our skin, and the sun had finally come out, sparkling on the waves, the sky a bright blue blanket overhead.
