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The stretch to cover her breasts and she might think they’re dangling low enough to protect all her bits, but they’re not. No, I can still see those bare lips between her thighs.
“I’m so sorry.”
“What are you sorry for?” I ask.Shouldn’t I be the one apologizing?
“For touching your underwear.”
I huff out a laugh, though the situation is far from funny. Now that I know what she looks like, I want to know what she feels like, what she smells like, what she tastes like.
“Why do you need to apologize for that? I told you to help yourself to my clothes.”
“Not your underwear, I mean especially…” her cheeks flush pink as her gaze lowers to the ground.
“Were you picturing me in nothing but my underwear?”
I move closer, unable to hold myself back any longer, unable to help the smile that spreads my cheeks.
“Maybe,” she squeaks.
“That’s pretty modest. I was trying not to picture you naked in the shower.”
“Really?” She looks back up at me.
“Yes. Really.”
She swallows. “Then in the spirit of honesty, I was picturing you walking naked from the bathroom, across your bedroom, to pull open this drawer just like I did and pick out some underwear.”
“If I were to rifle through your panty drawer, I’d do a lot more than caress your underwear.”
“Are you saying you’d try them on?”
A loud, barking laugh escapes my chest unbidden. “No. But I would smell them.”
“Smell them? But they’d smell like laundry detergent.”
“Laundry soap can’t wash everything away. They’d still smell like you underneath.”
“Me? You want to smell me?”
She looks up at me with heavy-lidded eyes, her expression so vulnerable. I step closer and palm the back of her head, pulling her closer as I press my mouth to hers.
As soon as our lips meet, she wraps her arms around my neck. My boxers flutter away. I took off my rash guard when we came back, so her warm breasts press against abdomen. Her nipples are hard little nubs and we both moan when they scrape along my skin.
Her mouth opens, granting me access. That’s all the permission I need. My hands move over her, feeling the silky skin of her thighs, her ass, her back.
My dick throbs between us, begging to be sprung from his cloth prison, but I want to do what I had in mind. I want to taste her. Every part of her.
As we kiss, I walk Nita backward to the bed. When the back of her knees hit the mattress, she stops. My palms slide down her back, taking one ass cheek in each hand as I pick her up and lower her to the bed.
“I can’t believe this is really happening,” she moans as I hover over her prone form, kissing my way down her neck.
“Why not?”
She starts to answer, but the words melt into another moan when I suck her nipple into my mouth. My hand moves up her inner thigh until I reach nirvana. She’s wet and I can feel her clit pulse against my thumb when I press on it.
“I’ve wanted this for so long,” she admits. “I never thought you’d see me as anything more than Susan’s youngest kid. I wanted you to be my daddy in such a different way.”
When she says that word, ‘daddy’, my hands tighten on her. She gasps because the hand between her legs slightly pinched her sensitive clit.
