Page 102 of Second Chance Daddy

“Fuck,” he groans, hips jerking slightly, his grip tightening, just holding on like I’m the only thing tethering him to the ground.

I pop my throat around him, swallowing deep, the vibration ripping another curse from his lips, his hand fisting tighter in my hair.

“Fuck, Cassie…”

I flatten my tongue along the underside of his cock, dragging him in deeper, until I feel the thick weight of him pushing past the back of my throat. My eyes water, jaw stretching wide, spit slicking my lips—messy, filthy, perfect.

He growls, his thighs tensing as I work him harder, bobbing my head fast now, one hand gripping his base, twisting, stroking in rhythm with every desperate, sloppy suck.

The power coils low in my belly, watching him unravel, this man the world fears, reduced to shaking for my mouth, holding on by a thread.

“Goddamn…fuck,” he bites out, his hips jerking.

I hum around him, cheeks hollowing, spit dripping down my chin as I take him deep, again, again, loving the choked sound that tears from his throat.

His grip tightens, yanking my head back just as his body locks up, every muscle trembling with restraint.

“Stop,” he snarls. “If you want me inside you—fuck—stop now.”

His cock pulses against my lips, so close, so wrecked, but I obey, pulling off slowly, licking the head just to tease him one last time.

The look on his face? Possession. Pure, filthy, desperate possession.

“Table,” he growls, grabbing my wrist. “Now.”

And I already know—this is gonna hurt in all the best ways.

Still on my knees, I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, smirking up at him.

I rise, but before I can climb onto the table, his hands are on me, spinning me around, bending me over the edge, my cheek flush to the cold felt, my dress shoved to my waist in seconds.

“No panties?” His voice is rough, nearly breaking. His fingers slide between my thighs, finding me soaked and ready. “Fuck, Cass. You like to be a tease, don’t you?”

I glance over my shoulder, flashing him a wicked smile, breathless. “Maybe.”

Then his palm cracks across my ass—sharp, rough, the sting blooming through my skin, making me gasp.

“Smart mouth,” he groans, gripping my hips, yanking me back against him and grinding his cock along my soaked folds.

His hands slide down, strong fingers gripping my inner thighs, shoving my legs wider, forcing me open, exposed, trembling against the table.

“Wider.”

I stretch for him, heart hammering, body burning as he spreads me for his ruin.

His fingers sink inside me without warning, two, then three, fucking me rough with his hand as his thumb circles my clit, slow and lethal.

“Dante,” I gasp, hips rolling, my body chasing more, the pressure coiling tight in my belly.

“What, Cass?” he taunts, voice sharp, fingers curling inside me.

“I need you,” I whimper. “Please.”

His fingers withdraw, and I groan at the loss, but then I feel him, the head of his cock pressing against my entrance, teasing, heavy.

“Fuck, look at you,” he rasps, running his hand over the curve of my ass, down between my legs, fingers gliding through the slick mess I’ve made for him. “You’re soaked. All this for me?”

I nod, wrecked, shaking, pressing back against his hand, desperate for more, for all of him.