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I swallow as I stare up at him, everything within me singing and buzzing.
“Stand up,” he says, voice deep and purposeful.
“Why?” I whisper.
“You know why. Stand up, Sadie. I can’t fight this anymore.”
“I thought it was all in my head.”
“Stand up and I’ll show you how wrong you are.”
But before I get a chance, he leans down and loops his hands under my arms, hauling me to my feet. I gasp in delight and shock even as a vignette of Fiona’s weeping face stabs into my mind.
He feels so firm as I clutch onto his arms, so solid and thick, a seasoned bear, gray flecks in his hair. Much more mature than the dick-hats in high school and even college.
He slides his hands down, gripping onto my hips. An urge rises in me to brush his hands away – he must be sickened by the shape of my hips, surely – but really I can’t do anything.
I’m pinned in the paralysis of the moment.
“Do you have any fucking idea how cute you look when you’re nervous?” he whispers, leaning in closer, his breath tickling my skin and his musky smell enveloping me.
“Really?” I croak, voice fading.
Is this real? How can this be real?
“Yes,” he says. “Really.”
Suddenly his lips are on mine and I’m frozen, stiff, unsure of what to do.
Then something releases inside of me and I gasp through the kiss, moving my lips in time with his.
The texture is rough and tingly and somehow feels like it fits, as though my lips are a lock are only he has the keys too.
I open my mouth in time with him, collapsing against him, my breasts crushed against his abs. His hand slide down, greedily exploring my ass, sliding up my inside my shorts to my bare ass cheeks.
“So round, so curvy,” he groans. “Jesus Christ, you were made to be treated like a dirty fucking sex goddess, weren’t you?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “Nobody’s ever said anything like that about me before. Nobody’s ever said they like my curves.”
“You’re the one teasing me now,” he says.
“No, really.”
He shakes his head slowly, as though he can’t believe it. “Then they’re idiots, Sadie. You’re the sexiest damn thing I’ve ever laid my eyes on.”
I want to toss my head and give him a demure, confident look, the sort of look that tells him I know exactly what he’s talking about. The desire to own what he’s saying to me is there, but it simply doesn’t mesh with what I’ve experienced my whole life.
The ignored girl, the too-curvy girl, the girl in the background, at least where boys are concerned.
“You really don’t believe me, do you?” he says. “Goddamn, then I’m going to have to show you, Sparkplug.”
“Show me?”
“Bend over,” he growls, eyes locked on mine.
My heart in my throat, I glance around the room, the large empty room. “Here?”
“I need to taste you, need to taste it,” he snarls. “I need your cream all over my tongue. Do you understand what I’m telling you, my sweet fucking princess? Bend over and let me tongue your slit until you come for me. There. In plain goddamn English.”
I can’t form words, my tongue feeling twisted.
“I want it,” I admit in one long breath. “But what if …”
“Just focus on the now,” he whispers, smoothing his hands up through my hair, touching my scalp, tickling, soothing. “Your hair is so gorgeous. Beautiful golden locks.”
Goldilocks.
Fiona’s name for me.
A guilty sinking feeling pools in my gut, but I push away thoughts of my friend and focus on her dad instead.
“Okay,” I say, conviction in my voice now.
My womb gives a sigh of relief, as though she was on the edge of her seat ready to punish me if I turned down this savage bear. My sex is soaked now, shamefully so, my panties drenched. My thighs feel fidgety as if waiting to be grabbed, palmed roughly.
“Can you show me where you want me?” I say.
His jaw tics. “Jesus Christ. You’re so damn innocent, aren’t you?”
I laugh, trying to look fierce. “Nah uh. I’m Miss Badass.”
“Another nickname?” he taunts. “I’ll show you where I want you, Sadie. Like this.”
He grabs my shoulders and in a sudden movement – and yet with an underlying gentleness – he flips me around.
I moan when he leans down to grind his enraged manhood against my ass cheeks, pushing firmly up and down, side to side, making every inch of my ass feel him.
Then he falls to his knees and starts sliding his hands up my thighs.
“Bend forward,” he whispers. “Hold the edge of the Go-Kart or get on your knees if you have to. I need this pussy nice and pressed into my face. You smell so sweet and tangy.”
My hands struggle to keep still as I grab the edge of the Go-Kart, legs aching slightly but worth it for this moment. I push my ass out, wondering if I’m doing it right, and then get my answer as Saul groans behind me. The groan causes his breath to simmer over my thighs and my sex.
