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Her eyes widen, pleasure and discomfort flashing across her face. I pause, giving her time to adjust, my voice a husky whisper. “Breathe, baby girl. Feel me, feel us.”
Her breasts rise and fall with each quick breath, her body already softening and yielding to me. I kiss her gently, my tongue tracing the seam of her lips until she opens for me. As our tongues dance, I begin to move, my hips rocking, pushing deeper with each thrust.
Her body responds, her hips lifting to meet mine, her breath coming in soft gasps. Her eyes lock onto mine, and everything else falls away. It's just the two of us and our connection.
Her hands explore my body, her nails lightly scoring my skin, leaving trails of fire in their wake. “Harder, Daddy,” she whispers, her voice laced with desire. “Please, I need more.”
A growl escapes me as my hips move faster, my thrusts becoming more forceful. Her body arches into mine, her breath coming in sharp cries as I hit that sweet spot deep inside her. Her cries turn desperate, begging me for something more, something deeper.
“Feels so good,” she breathes, a smile of pure satisfaction spreading across her lips.
I lean down, my lips brushing hers as my hips work furiously, driving us both to the edge. My control is slipping, the primal need to claim her, to mark her as mine, rising with each thrust. But I don't slow down. I'm not finished yet—not even close.
I'm consumed by the yearning to make her come apart again and again until she's nothing but a quivering mess beneath me. As totally mine as I am hers.
My hands thread through her hair, holding her in place so I can devour her cries. “I've got you,” I whisper, brushing her hair back from her forehead. “Come for me, babygirl.”
Her eyes lock onto mine, and I see the moment she lets go. The feel of her clenching around me, the sight of her flushed and beautiful in my arms, is overwhelming and pushes me over the edge. With a muffled roar, I come, pulsing and groaning her name like a prayer.
For a long moment, we're both boneless, spent, and sated by the mind-blowing pleasure we've shared. I'm the first to stir, gently pulling out and settling beside her on the bed. Reaching for the tissues beside the bed, I clean her up and dispose of the condom.
My arms instinctively draw her close. She snuggles into my chest with a soft, happy sigh, one leg draping over mine as her fingers trace lazy patterns on my skin.
I let my eyes drift shut, listening to the soft rhythm of her heartbeat and the slow, steady rise and fall of her breath.
“That,” she says eventually, her voice thick with satisfaction, “was worth the wait.”
I chuckle softly and press a kiss to her forehead. “Glad to hear it, babygirl.”
I tighten my arms around her, burying my face in her hair, and let out a contented sigh. She’s mine to cherish, mine to love with every fiber of my being. At the same time, I know that in thesemoments, she’s also taking care of me, mending the cracks in my guarded heart.
I’m under no illusions—this won’t be easy. George will be furious when he discovers our relationship, and society won’t be kind about our age difference. But I’ll fight for us, no matter what. Because Skylar Bennett is worth it.
Yet, one nagging doubt lingers. Will Skylar feel the same way when she wakes up? Or will the magic of this night fade with the dawn?
Chapter 10
Skylar
I waketo the tantalizing scent of coffee and bacon drifting through Garrett's apartment. My nose twitches at the aroma. As I stretch, a delicious ache thrums through my muscles.
The sheets are soft against my skin, and the memories of last night flood back. Garrett, his touch, his kiss, the way he looked at me.
My skin tingles with the ghost of his caress. I never imagined I'd be here, in his bed, wrapped in his sheets. It's surreal, like stepping into a dream I never want to wake from.
Finally, I slip out of bed and make my way to where my clothes are strewn across a chair. But instead of putting them back on, I spot one of Garrett's dress shirts hanging nearby.
It smells like him. Without a second thought, I slip it on and pad into the kitchen, where Garrett is at the stove.
I freeze in the doorway, barefoot on the cool tile. He flips pancakes, his back muscles flexing. My gaze lingers on his low-slung sweats.
This softer side of him, so unexpected, tightens my chest with emotion.
“Smells divine,” I purr, sliding onto a barstool at the kitchen island. The cool metal sends goosebumps racing up my thighs, a stark contrast to the warmth blooming in my chest.
Garrett turns, and our eyes lock. His tender gaze steals my breath. “Morning, beautiful,” he murmurs, handing me a cup of coffee.
I sip, savoring the rich flavor. “Mmm, perfect.”
