Page 27 of Embers

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“Yes, Daddy,” I whisper, so turned on I feel like I might come at the slightest contact between his fingers and my cunt.

Without speaking, he helps me sit up and lifts me onto his lap. He reaches down and unzips his pants. I slide back on his knees to admire his impressive length. Seeing him like this, protruding from his smart black dress pants, every inch the gentleman, makes my mouth water.

I smile and wrap both hands around his cock, then rub my thumbs over its tip. Mack closes his eyes and rests his head back. Pleasure softens his features.

I rise up on my knees and position him beneath me. Mack catches my face with his hands and kisses me. He runs his hands over my shoulders, pulling my dress back down. As he brushes his large thumbs over my hard pink buds, I whisper, “Will you fuck me now, Mack?”

He strokes my hair from my face. Before he’s had chance to say yes, I drop down hard and brace my hand on the roof of the truck as he impales me.

He lets out a groan and grabs my hips. “Nova…”

“I thought we had to be quiet,” I whisper in his ear.

“You’re so wet,” he mutters. “You’re such a good girl. So wet and ready for me.”

“Fuck me, Daddy,” I whisper in his ear. “Please, don’t stop now.”

So, he does. He thrusts up into me. He claws at my back. He pulls my hair. Sweat glistens on his forehead. I lean back, grinding into him. He finds my clit and massages it fast, urgent, determined.

As my orgasm rolls through me, I yell and fall forward, clutching the back of his head, holding him to my chest.

Mack clings onto me as if he’s afraid I’ll slip away from him. When he comes, his body tenses beneath me. He holds me tighter, and tighter, barely breathing. Then he shudders, panting, kissing my chest and my neck.

The truck is stiflingly hot. Mack rolls down the window, and some sparks escape, fluttering into the darkness of the parking lot. He looks up at me, cups my face, strokes my damp hair from my cheeks.

“Are you glad you gave in?” I ask, weaving my fingers between the buttons of his shirt so I can touch his bare chest.

Mack shakes his head. He pushes his fingers through his hair. “Nova…”

“Are you glad?” I meet his eyes. “Did the world end? Is everything terrible now?” I laugh a little and take his hand so I can kiss his knuckles.

He sighs and closes his eyes. “Yes,” he whispers, “I’m glad but also, yes, everything is terrible now.”

My breath catches in my chest. Tears bite at my throat. I’m too high from my orgasm to cope with him telling me he regrets what just happened. I inhale sharply, but Mack wraps his big arms around me and pulls me closer.

“Everything is terrible now because I have to admit I’m in love with you.”

I freeze, stiff against him.

“I don’t deserve to be in love with you.” He strokes my back. “I haven’t loved anyone for a long, long time.” His lips brush against my shoulder. “The people I love get hurt. I’m no good. You don’t need me. You have the others.”

I pull back so he has to look at me. “Stop it.” I stroke my fingers over his forehead then through his hair. I stare into his eyes. “Stop saying that.” I kiss the bridge of his nose. “I do need you. I need all of you.” His beard scratches against my chest as he kisses my throat. I hold him close, then I whisper. “It’s not your fault she died, Rhone.”

Hearing me say his real name, Mack sucks in a deep breath. He tries to look away from me, but I bring his face back.

“It’s not your fault,” I tell him again. “She wouldn’t want you to be alone. If she loved you the way I love you, she wouldn’t want you to be sad.”

Mack nuzzles into my neck, kisses my chest, sighs against me.

“Please don’t keep me at a distance,” I whisper. “Because I love you too, Daddy. And I know you won’t hurt me.”

Mack lifts his head, stares into my eyes, then he starts to smile. Not a happy smile, a relieved smile.

I wriggle in his lap. I run my hands up his shirt and tweak his bowtie. “No more holding back. Okay?”

Gently, Mack tugs my dress back up to cover my breasts. He rubs my upper arms, then takes his jacket off and wraps it around my shoulders. “Okay,” he says. “Okay, Nova.”

15


Tags: Cara Clare Fantasy