“I am. I’m ready to blow you sky high. Fuck. Don’t move,” he pants, his grip bruising on my ass to keep me still. “Don’t move that tight little pussy one inch or I’m done.”
“But it’s starting to feel better,” I moan, trying to roll my lower body. “It feels good.”
“I’m not even halfway in yet, pretty baby.” He’s caught in a permanent wince. “Jesus Christ, my fucking balls. I’m not going to be able to hold them off.”
“But…” I kiss his perspiring neck. “You’re not wearing a condom.”
A shudder wracks his massive frame. “Ah, Parker. Baby. Please don’t make me pull out,” he begs through clenched teeth. “Please.”
Wickedness wells up inside me. I have no idea where it comes from, but it makes me feel achy, wild, sexy. Like a temptation. “If you make me come, you don’t have to pull out.”
He stumbles a few steps, chest heaving. “Cruel girl,” he rasps against my mouth, the admonishment making moisture run down my thighs. “Cruel, beautiful…”—he rams the remaining inches into me—“…tight little girl.”
More discomfort starts to grip me, but I’m distracted by a jogger coming toward us. They’re about a hundred yards away, but at the pace they’re running, they’ll reach us in no time. “D-Daws…” I tap on his shoulder. “There’s s-someone.”
He goes dangerously still. “Is it a man?”
I try to focus, squinting into the distance. “No. Woman.”
Some of the tension leaves him. “I’d have killed a man for getting this close while your pussy is out.” He grips my backside and starts to ride me up and down the painfully thick length of his erection. “Flip up my collar and tuck your head into my neck.” I do as I’m told, burrowing my face into his perfect warmth and tightening my thighs around his pumping hips. “My coat hides the rest of you. Keep bouncing on that dick for me.”
It’s all so dirty and desperate, my teeth come out and sink into his neck. He grunts, but continues lifting me and slapping me back down on his lap, impaling me brutally. Perfectly.
“Daws, Daws, Daws,” I chant, gasping when a tweak of his hips brings my clit up against the wide, pulsing pedestal of his arousal. I cling to him like a life preserver in a storm and grind my hips up and back, moving faster than I ever knew I was capable of moving. “Oh yes, oh God!” I scream into his neck. “Daddy. Please.”
How can I call him anything else when he’s holding me like this, shielding me, introducing me to a whole new world? When he’s the master of my entire universe? The beginning and the end of my everything? He is making me, breaking me, bringing me to a place I didn’t know existed and I’m mindless with the need to get there, my clit tingling, my pelvis quickening, my muscles gathering together.
“You can’t call me that and expect me to last. Come on, you little prick tease,” he pants raggedly, his pinky sneaking just inside my back entrance and jiggling. “I can’t take it anymore. Can’t believe I get to put my load in this hot little pussy.” He pulls out his pinky and spanks me hard, his body starting to shake, telling me he’s reached his peak. “Put your cream on my dick, Parker. Please. Please.”
That hard slap of my buttocks loosens the knot inside me and I unravel. My brain knows I’m in the safest arms imaginable, but my body is in a never-ending spiral. There’s no bottom. I just continue to roll and roll and roll, end over end, through a field of pleasure, my femininity seizing up, my vocal cords aching from holding in a shriek.
“Not pulling out,” he groans. “Can’t.”
Daws has my butt in his hands and is shoving me down roughly onto his still rock-hard erection, tilting his hips up at the same time, looking me right in the eye and growling. As though he wants to take permanent residence inside me and he’s angry it’s not possible. I can feel his shaft jerking rhythmically within my channel, the swell of his belly pressing against mine, an abundance of wetness spreading where our bodies meet.
“Jesus. I must be the luckiest man alive,” Daws grates through clenched teeth, pulling out a little and ramming deep again, the force causing us to stagger two steps. “Balls deep in the hottest little girl in the city. Got her cherry juice dripping off my cock, that greedy pussy pulsing for more. I’ll give you more any time I’m allowed. I’ll beg for it.”
His mouth captures mine before I can respond and I get lost in the passionate kiss, the final shudder of his big, rugged body. I get lost in the way he wraps his arms around me, cradling me close, our labored breaths mingling with the sounds of New York City waking up. And I’m positive there has never been a more perfect moment in time.
I want more of them.
With Daws.
And I think there’s a good chance he wants them with me, too.
But I’m about to find out that nothing this amazing ever came easy.
6
Daws
After Parker and I walk back to the design space, the rest of the day goes by in a blur.
We’re not alone for a second. She’s running back and forth between models, instructing hairdressers, zipping garments into bags. In the middle of it all, she’s sewing the pants to match my jacket. Every once in a while, she looks over at me where I pretend I’m doing a crossword— instead of staring at her—and she beams, sending my fucking heart climbing into my mouth.
If you’d asked me yesterday if I thought it was possible to fall in love in less than twenty-four hours, I would have laughed.
It’s not only possible. It happened to me.
I love this girl.
I want to protect her. Guard her innocence against the evils of the world. Hold her in my arms and let nothing but good things touch her. And God, I want to fuck her again. I’m praying like hell it wasn’t a one-time thing. If it was, I need to be grateful. Grateful for the memory of that tight-as-hell clench of her pussy, her breathy whimpering sounds. How her sweet backside felt in my hands, those little muscles flexing as she rode my dick. Be grateful.
There’s no help for wanting more, though. Now.
I miss holding her, kissing her, talking to her.
I can’t look away from Parker as she zigzags across the room, in her element. A toss of her hair makes my pulse drum wildly. I have to swallow a knot when she giggles. Jesus Christ, this is more than love. I’m goddamn obsessed with her. With her hazel eyes and freckles and the lithe curve of her calves. With her tits. With her sweet voice and sense of humor. I have to physically restrain myself from plucking her out of this place, driving her to the middle of nowhere and fucking her until she’s pregnant. Mine.
Parker is mine.
In my head, at least. For now.
I’m starting to think she might actually date me, if I asked. And I plan to ask.
Crazier things must have happened, right? Crazier than a perfect angel going out with a big, ugly bastard like me?
“Hello,” a girl says, stopping beside my chair. She holds out a hand, her smile brittle. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Jocelyn.”
I shake her hand without taking my attention off Parker. “Daws.”