Page 104 of Scouting the Single Dad

She looks beautiful—breath gasping, hips rolling, pussy pulsing against my mouth. I ride her through it, easing only when she’s shaking and breathless, then give her one last slow lick that makes her whimper.

“Inside.” Her nails bite my shoulders. “Now.”

“Ask me nicely.”

Her smile is wrecked and wicked. “Please.”

“Get on your knees,” I tell her, palms gliding down her back. She rises, spine curving, the smallest tremor in her legs. I smooth my hands over her round cheeks, moving the string of her lingerie out of her ass crack, dick in my hand, teasing her entrance with the tip.

Layla leans forward on her elbows, ass in the air.

“Good girl.” I line up and press forward, slow and sure, filling her inch by inch until the breath leaves both of us.

Heat. That delicious tightness.

Home.

I groan loudly. God, it feels so fucking good in this position.

I fuck her, ego rewarded when a broken sob of pleasure catches in her throat. I draw back and roll my hips, finding that rhythm that makes her arch and reach one hand onto the headboard. Push against it as I grip her hips a little harder . . . drive deeper.

Slam into her, skin slapping.

“Harder,” she whines. Begs.

Fingers bite into her hips as I hammer forward, pace turning ruthless, the slick drag of her and the scrape of that tiny strip of lace making me see stars. The headboard thuds the wall; she shoves back to meet me, greedy and wild, gasping my name.

“You want it rough?”

A barely perceivable nod. “Yes.”

I trap the wrist that’s on the headboard while the thumb on my other hand finds her clit again, working her pretty little nub at the same time I pound her from behind. Every time I bottom out, she moans, the sound turning my brain to static.

I keep her panties shoved aside, the elastic biting into my cock while I drive into her, the angle cruel and perfect . . .

“Don’t stop, don’t stop . . .” she groans.

I crash into her, giving her every filthy inch of my dick, chasing my own orgasm with a rough rhythm that leaves us both shaking.

“That’s it, baby.” F-fuck, fuck, fuck. “Come on my cock.”

When she does, it’s loud.

Gorgeous.

Sexy.

I tug at her hair, pulling gently as I spill inside her, vision blurry, breath ragged. Moaning. Groaning.

I hold her steady through the racking aftershock. The tremble in her thighs slows into a satisfied melt. Then I ease out, palm her spine, kiss the back of her neck.

So fucking satisfying.

She laughs and collapses onto her side. I follow, dragging her against my chest, mouth in her hair while our breathing evens out.

Minutes pass like that—nothing but two hearts beating.

I hook a finger in the ribbon at her hip and tug it loose, stealing the satin bow like a thief.