Page 32 of My Single Dad Biker

"Holt, I'm going to—"

He doesn't stop. His fingers curl inside me, finding a spot that makes my eyes roll back, and his tongue presses harder against my clit and I come so hard I see white behind my eyelids.

He works me through it, his fingers still moving, his mouth gentler now, and when the waves finally stop I'm shaking and gasping and I can't think straight.

He kisses the inside of my thigh and stands up. His mouth and chin are wet and he doesn't wipe it away. He just looks at me spread out on my bed still trembling from what he just did.

"I've wanted to taste you since I first saw you," he says.

I can't form words yet. He works his belt open and pushes his jeans and boxers down and steps out of them and then he's completely naked and I can see all of him.

He's hard and thick and I want him inside me so badly it hurts.

He climbs onto the bed and positions himself over me, one hand on either side of my head, and I can feel the head of his cock pressing against my entrance.

"Look at me," he says.

I do. His eyes lock on mine.

"I'm going to take my time," he says. "I'm going to make you feel every inch."

Then he pushes inside.

Slowly. So slowly. I feel myself stretch to take him. He's thick and the sensation borders on too much but I don't want him to stop. I wrap my legs around his waist and try to pull him deeper but he resists.

"Slowly," he says. "I want to feel you adjust to me."

He pushes deeper. Another inch. Then another. My body is accommodating him gradually and the feeling is overwhelming. He's watching my face the whole time, reading every micro-expression.

"You okay?"

"Yes. Don't stop."

He pushes the rest of the way in and we both groan. He drops his forehead to mine and we just breathe for a moment. I feel completely full. Stretched. Claimed.

"You feel incredible," he says, and his voice is strained. "So fucking tight."

"Move," I say. "Please."

He pulls back slowly until just the tip is inside me.

Then he pushes back in just as slowly. The drag of him against my inner walls makes me gasp.

He does it again. Slow out. Slow in. Building a rhythm that's making me insane.

"Faster," I say.

"Not yet."

He keeps the slow pace, each thrust deliberate, and I can feel everything. The ridge of his cock. The stretch. The fullness. The way my body grips him every time he pulls out like I don't want to let him go.

His mouth comes to my neck and he kisses and sucks and I know he's going to leave marks but I don't care.

His hips keep that maddening slow rhythm and I'm climbing again, building toward something bigger than the first orgasm.

"Holt, please."

"Please what?"