Page 65 of Second Chance Daddy

Before I can answer, she leans forward, takes me in her mouth, and my world fucking implodes.

“Jesus, Cass,” I groan, fingers tangling in her hair.

She hums around me, sending shockwaves straight up my spine. Her tongue swirls over the head, licks a stripe up the underside and teases at the spot just below the crown that makes my thighs tense.

My pulse kicks harder, my hands fist at my sides, every muscle coiled tight as a wire ready to snap.

I should stop this. I should remember I brought her here for a reason. But then her mouth slides lower, and those reasons go up in smoke.

And sight of her? Down on her knees, lips stretched around me, eyes locked on mine like she’s daring me to look away—it’s enough to make me forget why we’re here.

She takes me deeper, and thinking becomes a distant memory.

She works me with delicious cruelty. A teasing lick here, a pop deep in her throat, sucking and taunting. Her wet heat has my toes curling into the carpet. Her hand wraps around the base, stroking in time with her mouth.

Well, I’ll be damned. If she keeps this up, I won’t last a minute longer.

“Fuck,” I hiss, watching my cock disappear between those perfect lips again and again. “You need to stop.”

She ignores me, doubles down, hollows her cheeks, and sucks harder. Heat pools at the base of my spine, tension coiling tight.

“Cassie,” I warn, tugging at her hair. “I’m gonna?—”

She pulls off with a wet pop, looking up at me with swollen lips and triumphant eyes. “What? Too much for the big, bad Dante Romano?”

I growl, hauling her up by the arms, spinning us until she’s flat on her back on the mattress. “You think you’re winning?”

“Feels like it from here,” she hisses.

The second I reach for her, she flips me onto my back, straddling me, her dress riding up high on those thighs I’ve been obsessed with since day one.

“Don’t move,” she orders, voice shaking, but her hands are steady as they slide over my chest, down my stomach, nails dragging, wicked little scratches that ignite every nerve ending. “Game’s not over yet.”

I stay still—let her ride that power trip—watch her peel the dress up over her hips, revealing smooth skin, bare underneath.

Naughty girl.

And then, she straddles me tightly before lifting off to inch down onto me.

Then she starts to move.

Slow at first, rising up until just the tip remains inside, then sinking back down with a roll of her hips that makes my eyes cross. Her hands brace on my chest, nails digging in as she finds her rhythm.

I kiss her again, tasting myself on her tongue, grinding my cock deeper into her. She moans into the kiss, hips circling down to meet me at the hilt.

Her hands are everywhere—scratching down my chest, squeezing my ass. There’s a desperation to her tonight, a wildness I haven’t seen before.

It’s like she’s trying to fuck away the truth between us.

I groan, grabbing her thighs, needing to see more. My hands fist the thin cotton of her dress, ripping it clean down the middle, baring her completely.

I palm her breast, thumb circling her nipple until it peaks against my touch. She arches into it, gasping when I pinch just hard enough to sting.

She gasps—but I’m already sliding my hands down her ribs, over her hips, tilting her higher as she sinks down on me, hot, tight, perfect.

The world narrows to the sight of her—wild hair, flushed cheeks, those eyes burning into mine as she rides me slow, deep, owning every damn inch like she’s staking a claim.

I lower my head, take one pebbled nipple into my mouth, sucking hard enough to make her cry out. My hand slides down her back, dips into the curves of her ass.