Page 45 of Second Chance Daddy

It doesn’t matter how fast I move.

I’ll never catch up to the way she owns me.

We slam into the wall halfway. My mouth finds hers again, hungrier this time, one hand sliding under her shirt to feel the warm skin beneath. She arches into me, nails digging into my shoulders through my shirt.

“Fuck, Cassie,” I breathe against her neck, biting down just hard enough to make her gasp. “You drive me fucking insane.”

She doesn’t answer with words. Just grabs my face and pulls me back to her mouth, kissing me like she’s drowning and I’m air.

We stumble through the house like that—a tangle of limbs and half-formed curses, crashing into furniture, knocking shit over. I don’t care. Nothing matters except getting her somewhere I can spread her out and take her apart piece by piece.

The kitchen. It’ll have to do.

I back her into the island, lift her by the waist, and set her on the cold marble countertop. Her legs spread automatically, making room for me between them—long, smooth, dangerous as hell. Legs that were made to wreck men, ruin bank accounts, and drive good sense straight off a cliff.

Her dress rides up those thighs, and I slide my hands underneath, fingertips skimming over bare skin like milk.

I ghost my palms over her thighs, watching her shiver, her chest rising quickly like she’s already losing the battle.

She bites her bottom lip, trying to hold it together, but her hips roll forward on instinct, chasing my touch like it’s the only thing keeping her tethered to the floor.

“Look at you,” I rasp, thumbs dragging circles along her inner thighs, teasing, never giving her enough. “Already shaking, and I haven’t even started, sweetheart.”

Her fingers grip the counter behind her, knuckles white, those pretty eyes blown wide with heat. She tries to sass me, tries to act like she’s not seconds from crumbling, but her body’s louder than her mouth.

I dip my head, nipping at the skin along her jaw, my voice low, rough. “Say the words, Cass.”

She swallows hard, that pride fighting for air, butwantalways wins with her.

“Dante…” Her voice cracks, breathless, begging, filthy sweet. “I want you.”

Not good enough. I slide one hand higher, brushing my thumb over the damp fabric of her panties. She jerks, a small moan escaping her lips.

“Be specific, Cassie.”

“I want your mouth on me. I want your fingers inside me. I want you to fuck me until I can’t remember my own name.”

A grin curves my lips, cock throbbing hard enough to ache.

“Good girl.” I lean in, my breath hot against her ear, teasing her one last time before I make good on that promise. “Hold on tight, ‘cause once I start? I’m not stopping ‘til you fall apart for me.”

I circle my thumb over her clit through the thin fabric, watch her eyes flutter closed, her bottom lip caught between her teeth.

I lean in, my mouth at her ear again. “You were mine before you even knew it.”

She shudders, her thighs tensing around my hand. I pull back just enough to see her face—to watch as I slip my fingers beneath the elastic of her panties and find her hot and slick and ready.

“So fucking wet for me,” I growl, sliding one finger into her, then another. She clenches around me, a broken sound falling from her lips. “You’ve been thinking about this, haven’t you? About me inside you again?”

She nods, unable to speak as I curl my fingers just right, finding that spot that makes her whole body tense.

“I need words, baby.”

“Yes,” she gasps. “Yes, I’ve been thinking about it.”

Then I drop to my knees like a sinner at church, ready to pray at her altar. My hands find the waistband of those lace panties, and I drag them down slowly.

She’s shaking by the time they hit the floor.