“I doubt we could stop ourselves even if we wanted to,” he said with a teasing smile. “What do you think?”
I breathed a sigh of relief. “I don’t want to stop. I want to make you come.”
A deep, throaty growl rose from his chest.
“You first, Jetty.” He kissed my neck and began sliding his finger in and out of me. His hands were big, his fingers thicker and longer than mine, allowing him to reach all the tender places I couldn’t.
The pad of his thumb circled my clit. I humped his hand in tandem with pumping his cock. I couldn’t help myself. It felt too damn good not to. He added a third finger and I flinched at the sting, stroking him faster to distract myself.
After a moment, the pain subsided and all I could feel was the tension and pleasure as he moved inside me, his thumb strumming my clit.
I tucked my face into the curve of his neck. He was going to make me come. The man who had taught me how to ride a bicycle was teaching me something far more important now: how to give and receive pleasure. He was going to make me come. The thought had my thighs shaking, my hands faltering in their rhythm.
“Are you close?”
“Uh-huh,” I said. “Are you?”
“Don’t worry about me, sweetheart. I could come just from listening to you.”
He wrapped his other hand around mine on his cock. I let him glide my fist along his length and closed my eyes to concentrate on what he was doing to me. I pressed my nose to the skin of his throat. He smelled like home.
Eyes squeezed shut, I could almost see my orgasm waiting for me over my inner horizon.
“Don’t stop,” I begged. “Don’t...”
“Not a chance, baby girl.”
Baby girl. The epithet swaddled me like a security blanket. I felt warm all over, flushed from head to toe.
It struck me as a cruel joke that the man I was forbidden from touching would also be the man who made me feel so treasured, so precious—the way a father should. It didn’t matter that Mason and I weren’t related by blood. He was my daddy. Now that I’d found him, I refused to let him go.
I met his thrusts with my own, rocking my hips in time with his fingers.
“Daddy?” I never thought I’d be the type to get off on baby talk, but straddling my long-lost father’s lap with his fingers inside me, those were the only words that seemed to fit.
His cock throbbed in my palm. “Yeah, sweetheart?”
“Promise you’ll stay this time... Promise you won’t go.”
“Neither of us are going anywhere, Jetty.” He kissed my face gently, all the while fucking into our joined fists. “You’re my little girl. I’m going to take damn good care of you.”
“Promise me, Daddy.”
“I promise,” he said. “Daddy loves you, Jetty.”
Lights and colors burst behind my eyelids. I moaned again and again, my muscles flexing around his fingers, my clit pulsing under his thumb. His hand tightened over mine as wet heat splashed onto my stomach, coating our hands and the undersides of my breasts.
The sound of our panting filled the air around us. Mason palmed my swollen folds and kissed my brow. I felt heavy and light, dizzy and rooted, convinced I’d float away if I wasn’t holding on to him. I straightened so I could kiss his mouth, sweetly and softy, like shy teenagers skipping class to go make out under the bleachers.
He used his T-shirt to clean the semen from my breasts and belly. That’s when I noticed the faint tinge of pink coating his fingers. He must’ve torn my hymen. Had I even noticed? In that moment, all I could recall was the pleasure.
I licked a drop of cum from my knuckle before he could mop it up; it tasted like seawater. The look on his face told me there would be plenty more where this came from, if I wanted it.
Of course I wanted it.
“Daddy,” I said, my voice hoarse. “I want you to be my first in everything. Not just this.”
I brought his hand to my lips and kissed his fingertips one by one. He watched, riveted. I nibbled the pads of his fingers and then sucked one into my mouth.