She gazes up at me, her lips parted and her hands flexing on my shoulders. With a finger, I flip back her skirt and skim down her warm inner thigh.
“You’re not wearing that tiny scrap of lace that I like,” I murmur, tracing over the seam of her sex.
She laughs between gasps of pleasure. “You like them? I wear them when it’s practical. Everything shows beneath satin.”
I can pull these briefs aside just as easily, and when I do, I find that she’s as wet as she was last night. I admire her for a moment, stroking through her slick folds, and then lower my head to taste her.
Holy hell. She slides against my tongue like silk and honey. I groan and lick her again, needing to taste all of her and then homing in on her clit and listening to her whimper. She wriggles beneath me, and I take a firmer grip on her thighs to keep her still.
When I glance up, I see she’s watching me with a rapt expression, her teeth sunk into her lower lip, and her breath coming in short pants.
“Good girl,” I murmur.
Her eyes close, and her head tips back with a moan.
“I was thinking about this all night,” I say between licks. This, and sheathing myself deep inside her. I was hard for hours thinking about her and finally had to give myself release. The first time I’ve done so since prison. I explore her pussy with my middle finger and push inside her. She hugs the tip of my finger fiercely.
“Are you a virgin?” I ask, adding a second finger and feeling a throb in my cock as I imagine how tight she’ll feel around me.
She nods without opening her eyes. I don’t push any deeper, no matter how much I want to see my fingers buried to the knuckles inside her. I keep licking, as I pump shallowly in and out of her. I want her so needy for it that she can’t think. I want her saying please, Daddy, and begging me to pound into her until she squeals.
Wraye’s cries are rising in pitch and her back is arching off the sofa. I lift my head and look at her. “Want me to keep going?”
She nods urgently and buries her fingers in my hair. “Please, please. I’m so close to coming.”
I turn my head and sink my teeth into her thigh, groaning. It’s been a lifetime since I heard a woman talk to me in that pleading, horny way. “Yes, please, what?”
“Yes, please, Your Grace.”
I dip my head and give her a slow, loving lick, one that has her giving a raw moan and nearly tipping over the edge.
“No, not Your Grace. Yes, please, Daddy.”
Her lips curve into a smile, half-wicked, half-shy. “Yes, Daddy.”
I push my fingers deeper and curl them up, finding that tender spot behind her clit and rubbing it hard.
“Oh, god, yes, Daddy,” she cries out, her head falling back. I lick her clit in steady strokes, and a moment later, she lets out a long, high wail and clenches tightly on my fingers.
I sit up and press my mouth to her gasping one. Breathlessly, she pulls me on top of her, her thighs clenching my hips. I should be a gentleman and leave her virginity for her husband, but everything about her is short-circuiting my senses.
Maybe I’ll be her husband.
I’m a Levanter. I can have whatever the hell I want. I reach down between us and unbuckle my belt, and then the button at the top of my pants. I push them and my briefs down, far enough to release my cock. Wraye wraps her fingers around me, enclosing my girth. She strokes me up and down, exploring my length, her touch gentle. She’s looking at me like I’m her whole world. Like she trusts me. Needs me. I’ve forgotten how good that feels.
“Please, Daddy,” she whispers, twining her fingers around my length.
I groan and push my cock farther into her grip. “Be a good girl and open your legs.”
Obediently, she lifts her knees and parts them, settling back against the sofa cushions and holding onto my shoulders. I wrap my hand around my cock and slide it through her wetness. The tip of my cock is swallowed up by her pussy, making me groan through gritted teeth. I’m on the verge of sinking into her tight, wet heat, when we hear the front door open and close.
“Daddy, I’m home!”
My first thought is an angry, Fuck it all to hell, am I never going to have a moment of peace with this girl? My second is one of horror, because that’s my daughter, and she’s going to walk in on me, on the verge of deflowering her best friend.
I spring back from Wraye as Aubrey’s footsteps sound along the hall and disappear upstairs. She must think I’m in my study. I zip up and shove my shirt back into my pants, as Wraye drags her underwear up her legs and buttons her blouse.