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“I thought it was a known fact it was an open invitation.” I stroked his hair, looked up at him.
“I can’t send you dick picks.” He was way too serious for my liking. “I don’t think you would violate my trust. I just can’t risk someone else doing that, and…I don’t trust him with you.”
“Tituss?” I didn’t understand.
“No,” he said with a tone that indicated I was dense, so I moved my head back to his shoulder to try to check my own mood these boys were getting me in. He opened my door and said, “Damn.”
“What?” I looked up and around. “I don’t see anything.”
“He’s a master fucking manipulator.” Dane kicked the door shut. He put me on my feet and went to the bookshelf. “Which one?”
“Um—”
“Which. One?” And that tone left no doubt this man was pissed.
I went to my desk and said, “I don’t even know how he got it. It was court evidence. I never got it back, but this is it. Not a copy.”
He took it, flipped through to the middle. “Blank pages.”
“Well, yeah. I—”
“My pages.” He looked at me and placed the book back on the desk. “Tituss was your first.”
I nodded. “And I was his, so—”
“So, I’m going to be your first too, and you’ll be mine.” He walked over to my nightstand and emptied his pockets as I contemplated running out the door because…my first what? And with that dark mood, it was always a brain-body war within me. Brain said, run! Body said, let’s do this. Hurt me. Make it memorable.
Hurt me? Shut up, body!
He motioned for me to come over to him, and my feet obeyed. I looked up, gulped. “What—”
He moved in to kiss me, and I lost the question but found his shoulders in my grip. Clothes discarded, he moved between my thighs and brought me to orgasm. This was not a first for either of us. A silent Daddy was a dangerous one. He turned me over, pulled me up to my knees, and reached for the nightstand.
It was then I saw the tube of lubricant, the condom. My eyes flashed open, and the head of his cock pressed at that virginal bud, and he asked, “You ready?”
I tried to move forward, but he held my hips and slapped my ass, and asked again. Fuck. I could feel the pucker, and since the head of his naked cock was right against it, he could too. He slapped my other cheek. After two more of those, I breathed out the word, “Daddy.”
He pulled back a fraction, and I gripped the blankets in my fists, fearful, unsure, but turned on. I felt a cool tip. He held me firm as I wiggled against the invading sensation of gel. Gel. Of course, he wasn’t going to just jump right in there.
I had to trust him. I hated that but knew I could…at least in this realm of our relationship. A pop sound made me look over my shoulder, and he waggled his brows at me before saying, “Time to operate.”
I snickered and then groaned because he slid the gloved finger around enough to spread the gel before pushing that into me. I twitched, jerked, the sensations new, different, alarming. His cock slid into my pussy as his finger worked, then two and I unraveled.
He slid both his cock and his fingers out of me. The glove discarded, he reached for the condom as he said, “Turn over.”
I rolled, watched him slide that on his extra large cock, and gulped. He moved over me, slid into my pussy as he kissed me, as I pulled to get more of him. Then he slid out, lower, and felt my body tense as the head nudged.
“Breathe, baby. Focus on me.” He spoke against my lips. I opened my eyes and looked into his. “Push a—” It seemed a bit counterintuitive, but the slighted flex as though I were pushing out allowed a little more space, and he slipped in.
I cried out, “Daddy.” He shook his head no, kissed my lips tenderly, waited, looked at me. I gulped and said, “Rr.” I wasn’t sure, though. He pulled back just a fraction and then pushed deeper as I sighed, “Ripley.”
That ignited something in him, and it did something to me when he said, “Harper, fuck. I…” He gulped, mad at himself, at me. He was somewhere between tenderness and savagery, and I was amazed at how good this felt once he was past that ring.
He slowed, pulled up, moved my leg, and I adjusted. His cock anchored inside me, we repositioned until he was behind me, and I realized he could use both of his hands if he wasn’t holding himself above me. Easy, gentle strokes as one moved up to my breast and the other down to stroke over my clit, which had me jerking, lost, crying out as his fingers moved in to touch himself through that wall.
I pushed my hand back and into his hair, pulled him forward, angled so I could kiss him between gasps and moan into his mouth regardless. “Ripley.”
He stroked my clit, moved with more effort, and as I broke into an intense orgasm, I also broke into sobs because I didn’t know why I said it. But I did. I said it. And he bit me for it. His teeth sank against the flesh on my shoulder, and I screamed out with that pain as he came. His head lifted, eyes glazed, my blood on his bottom lip, he whispered, “I love you, too.”
