I hum against her so she feels the vibration, then slide my tongue lower, pushing inside her just enough to taste how slick she is. She’s dripping now, coating my chin, and I groan into her because fuck, she tastes like heaven.
I work her slow and steady, building her up without rushing. One finger slips inside her—easy, no resistance after last night—and I curl it, stroking that spot that makes her thighs tremble.When I add a second, she moans louder, hips rocking against my face.
“That’s it, baby,” I rasp between licks. “Ride my tongue. Use me. Come whenever you’re ready.”
Her breathing turns ragged. Her fingers tighten in my hair. I suck harder on her clit, fingers pumping in a slow, deep rhythm, and she breaks—shuddering, crying out my name as she comes hard against my mouth. I don’t stop until she’s whimpering, oversensitive, trying to push my head away with weak little shoves.
I kiss her inner thighs, her mound, her belly, working my way back up until I’m hovering over her. Her eyes are glassy, cheeks flushed, lips parted. She looks wrecked in the best way.
“Morning,” I say, smiling against her mouth before I kiss her deep, letting her taste herself on my tongue.
She moans into the kiss, hands sliding down my back, nails digging in just enough to make me hiss.
“Want you,” she whispers. “Please.”
I roll us so she’s on top again, giving her control like last night. She straddles my hips, reaches between us, and guides me to her entrance. She’s so wet the head slips in easily. We both groan as she sinks down, taking me inch by inch until I’m buried to the hilt.
“Fuck, Fiona,” I grit out, hands gripping her hips. “You feel so good. So tight around me.”
She starts to move—slow rolls at first, testing, learning the angle that makes her gasp every time. I let her set the pace, thumbs stroking her hip bones, watching her face the whole time. Everyflutter of her lashes, every bite of her lip, every soft whimper—I drink it in.
When her rhythm falters, thighs starting to shake, I sit up, wrapping my arms around her so we’re chest to chest. I thrust up into her, deep and steady, hitting that spot inside her that makes her eyes roll back.
“Daddy—” The word slips out on a whine, and it lights me up like gasoline.
“Yeah, baby?” I growl against her ear. “You like that? Like riding Daddy’s cock?”
She nods frantically, nails scoring my shoulders. “Yes—yes—don’t stop?—”
I don’t. I keep the pace even, grinding against her clit with every thrust until she’s trembling again, so close I can feel her pulsing around me.
“Come for me again,” I murmur, voice rough. “Let me feel you squeeze me. Be my good girl and come all over my cock.”
She shatters with a broken cry, clenching so tight it drags me right to the edge. I thrust through it, chasing my own release, until the pressure snaps and I come hard, pulsing deep inside her with a low groan.
We stay like that for a long minute—her forehead pressed to mine, both of us breathing hard, hearts hammering against each other.
I ease her down onto the mattress, slipping out carefully. She winces just a little, and guilt flickers through me.
“Sore?” I ask, brushing hair off her damp face.
“A little,” she admits, shy smile tugging at her lips. “Worth it.”
I kiss her softly, then slide off the bed. “Stay right there.”
I grab a warm washcloth from the bathroom, run it under hot water, and come back to clean her up gently. She blushes the whole time, trying to close her legs, but I nudge them open with a soft “Let me, baby. I’ve got you.”
When she’s clean, I toss the cloth aside and pull her into my arms, tucking the sheet around us. My hand strokes lazy circles on her back while she rests her head on my chest.
“You okay?” I ask quietly.
“More than okay.” Her fingers trace the scar on my ribs—the one from a bad op years ago. “You’re… really good at this. At taking care of me.”
My throat tightens. I press a kiss to the top of her head. “I like taking care of you. More than I should, maybe.”
She tilts her head up, searching my face. “What does that mean?”
I hesitate. The words feel too big, too soon, but they’re there anyway, pressing against my ribs.