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Years.
Only now am I willing to slap a label on them.
She pads quietly across the space that separates us. When she’s within striking distance, my fingers lock around hers, and I tug her onto my lap. My hands stroke up the bare flesh of her slender back before sliding down again to the rounded curve of her ass, squeezing the taut muscle as my lips crash onto hers. She immediately opens so our tongues can tangle. And just like always, it’s frenzied.
Explosive.
As if I’ve been deprived of oxygen and she’s the air I need to sustain life.
I’ll never get used to this feeling.
The need I have to possess her.
I can only liken it to a beast that I’ve kept tightly leashed for years and I can’t do it any longer. More than that, I don’t want to.
I rip my mouth away just enough to growl, “I need to fuck you.”
Her fingers settle over my hard length before giving it a squeeze. A hiss of breath escapes from me.
“What’s stopping you?”
Abso-fucking-lutely nothing.
My brain clicks off and instinct takes over. I shift her around so that I can yank down the material of my joggers until my erection can spring free. Her hands settle on my shoulders as I maneuver her over my boner. The moment she slides down the thick length, my eyelids feather shut.
There’s nothing better in this world than being buried deep inside her tight heat.
When a whimper escapes from her, my hand snakes around the nape of her neck, dragging her closer until my mouth can settle over hers for a second time. As soon as she opens, our tongues mingle.
Bliss.
That’s exactly what this is.
Carina flexes her hips, slowly sliding up and down my shaft.
I’m so turned on that it won’t take much for me to lose it.
This girl unravels me in the best way possible.
Just as my balls draw up and it feels like I’ll explode with the next upstroke, the door to the studio creeks open.
“Hey, guys…” Dad’s voice trails off.
Carina freezes, her muscles stiffening. My arms tighten, trying to shield as much of her nudity as possible. She breaks the kiss and stares at me in muted horror, her face turning ashen before dull color slams into her cheeks.
I twist my head and look past the slope of her shoulder to meet Dad’s eyes. His lips are compressed into a tight line. Even from here, I can see the stiffness of his muscles.
For a second or two, awkward silence hangs in the studio. It’s the suffocating kind that chokes the air from your very lungs.
He clears his throat. “Dinner will be ready shortly. We’ll see you upstairs once you’re,” there’s a stilted pause, “dressed.”
The door closes softly, leaving us once again alone.
A tortured groan escapes from Carina as she buries her face against my shoulder. “Please tell me that didn’t happen.”
“I wish I could.”
“Crawford’s angry.”
