Page 103 of Scouting the Single Dad

Let Me in.

At the top, the hallway is quiet. Not a peep, not a soul to be seen, nothing but a pair of Benny’s shorts on the floor near her bedroom door that she must have dropped when she brought her laundry up.

At the opposite end of the hallway, my door rests ajar, and my dick twitches again.

What am I going to find?

I’m excited. Feel like a lion chasing a deer.

Push the door open, eyes instantly settling on Layla perched on my bed; not naked, but she might as well be. Sheer black lingerie, tits covered but the shadows of her nipples and the triangle between her legs a sexy tease. Satin bows hold the entire thing together.

“Hi,” she says casually. “You took forever.”

“Traffic.” My eyes give her another look over, devouring her whole as I approach the bed. “Did you bring that or DoorDash it?”

Layla shrugs. “Don’t know. Maybe it just showed up at your place.”

My blood churns. Rockets through my body. “I want to tear it off with my teeth.”

“Then do it.” Her chin lifts, daring me. “What are you waiting for?”

I raise myself onto the mattress, climbing between her thighs, nose burying in her neck. Nuzzling. “You’re going to wake up tomorrow sore, thinking about me the entire flight back to Star Lake.”

I nip along her throat, slow and claiming, and feel the shiver run all the way through her.

“Good,” she whispers, fingers sliding into my hair. “Make it hard to forget you.”

“Oh, I’m going to make it impossible.” I inhale her perfume, lips against her ear. “Full flight, surrounded by people, you’re going to be replaying every second of my face between your legs and my dick inside you.”

Layla shivers, and I lower my mouth to her collarbone. Kiss between her breasts.

I close my mouth over one nipple and draw slow, wet suction through the fabric until it’s a hard, aching peak.

“Oh—” She leans back onto the pillow, watching me.

Her back leaves the mattress. I smooth one palm down her side, under the cage of straps, and tug one bow loose with my teeth. The ribbon slips free with a soft whisper.

“Pretty little problem,” I murmur, undoing the second bow. “Let me solve it.”

I peel the lace apart, and her breasts spill into my hands, flushed and begging. I suck one bare, slow and deep, thumb circling the other until her hips start to search for friction. She tries to grind against my thigh; I shift just out of reach, and her whine turns needy.

“Uh-uh.” I kiss down her sternum, tongue tasting salt and perfume. “You’re going to take what I give you, exactly how I give it.”

“Please,” she breathes, and it’s my undoing.

I slide lower, fingers hooking the edge of her barely-there panties, brushing the wet heat beneath. One kiss on the inside of her knee. Her thigh. Then I spread her with my thumbs and breathe her in, pressing my mouth there.

“Look at you,” I rasp, meeting her eyes as I lick a slow line up her. “So fucking sexy.” The perfect breakfast.

I flatten my tongue and savor, slow enough to make her tremble, then seal my lips around her clit, pulling a sound from her throat.

“God—Hayes—”

God. That’s me . . .

I slide two fingers inside—tight, slick heat clutching me—and curl them just right. Her whole body bows, a perfect, helpless curve. I work her—round and round my thumb goes—keeping my eyes on hers until they flutter and roll.

When her thighs start to shake . . . quiver . . . I pin them with my forearms and go mean, sucking steady while my fingers flick that spot that turns her body electric.