Page 22 of Snowed In with My Best Friend's Dad
The wild, hot storm of desire consumed me. I drove into her and let go. I gave full rein to the powers of sex and physical need. I lost myself in the sensation of my cock sliding in and out of her tight pussy, the friction building, building, until I was mad with the need to come.
“Brett!” she screamed, her pussy clamped around my cock like it would never let go.
Stars burst behind my eyes as my orgasm slammed into me, charging through my body like a fucking freight train. “Fuck!” I continued to drive into her, thrusting, grinding, coming until my body gave out, and even then, my dick continued to pulse inside her.
I collapsed over her, feeling sated, yes, but unsettled as well. I withdrew, moving us so that we were on our sides, and I spooned around her again. This way, I wouldn’t have to look at her while my mind was a torrent of confusing thoughts.
What was it about this woman? Why was it that fucking her felt like more than scratching a physical itch? And why was it that just after coming so hard, I shouldn’t be able to get it up again for a week, my dick twitched as she settled her ass against my groin? And why did I feel like even after tonight, I’d still want more?
I didn’t meanto fall asleep on the floor, but apparently, I had as I woke up with Miranda still tucked into my body. The sun wasn’t up, but the sky was starting to light up, telling me it had to be close to six thirty. For a moment, I lay with Miranda’s body warm and soft against me. Her breathing told me she was still sleeping.
I was well and truly fucked. I didn’t spend the night with women. I didn’t wake up next to them. This time, I overrode my dick, which was at full mast, ready to sink into Miranda’s sweet body again. Now, it was time to go back to reality.
I carefully rolled away and stood. I grabbed a blanket from the couch and covered Miranda. She smiled but didn’t wake up. A pull in my chest had me wanting to lie down next to her again, but I ignored it. I was doing a lot of that lately, ignoring my instincts.
I grabbed my clothes and headed upstairs, where I took a quick shower and then set out to see how much snow we had and how soon I could get Miranda on her way home.
I figured it would be some time before our road was cleared, but I crossed my fingers it would be by noon or so. Then hopefully, we could dig out her car and get a tow truck to pull it from the ditch.
I didn’t get an answer from the towing company when I called, so I made coffee and set out clearing the snow from my front steps. I’d moved my SUV into the covered area next to the cabin so I didn’t need to dig it out. I needed to deal with the driveway, but not yet. Instead, I went to the back to clear off my deck and around the hot tub. Maybe I’d take a soak in it later once Miranda headed home. I had an image of Miranda in with me, riding me.
Fucking hell.
When I finished, I returned inside ready to make breakfast. I checked in the living room but Miranda wasn’t there. The blanket was folded on the couch and her clothes were gone. For a moment, I was disappointed, but I ignored it, of course.
I pulled out bacon and eggs and bread for toast. A few minutes later, Miranda entered the kitchen. Her long hair was wet, suggesting she took a shower. She wore jeans and a green sweatshirt with a reindeer that had Christmas lights in its antlers. It was a reminder to me that she was young and not someone I should be fucking. The thought irritated me.
“You slept through all the chores, I see.”
She flinched, her eyes rounding, making me feel like a dick for speaking so curtly.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize—”
“Doesn’t matter. Are you hungry?”
She studied me for a moment, probably wondering what the fuck was wrong with me. “I was going to call about my car.”
“Sure thing.” I cracked three eggs into my pan as I pushed the lever on my toaster down.
Miranda took her phone from her back pocket and started to leave the kitchen.
Let her go, let her go. “You really should eat something.”
She stopped. “I should call.”
“The roads won’t be clear for a bit.” I slid the cooked eggs onto a plate, pulled bacon from the oven where it had been warming after cooking, and took the plate to the table. “I’ve got toast too.”
She bit her lip like she wasn’t sure what to do.
“Sit. Eat.” The toaster popped up. “Do you like butter on your toast? What about jam?”
She watched me like I was a predator, ready to pounce on her at any time, but she sat at the table. “Butter is fine.”
I prepared the toast and made my plate, then sat at the table. I took a breath to get my shit together. “Sorry I snapped. Hangry, I guess.”
“I’m happy to help with chores. I’ll do the dishes—”
“Eat first.”
