Total pages in book: 17
Estimated words: 15135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 76(@200wpm)___ 61(@250wpm)___ 50(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 15135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 76(@200wpm)___ 61(@250wpm)___ 50(@300wpm)
I wrap my arm around her waist and reach between us with my other hand to cup her breast and play with her nipple, making her whimper. She leans forward, starting to rock her hips, and I claim her mouth, swallowing every addictive whine and moan she makes while riding me.
“You feel fucking incredible,” I groan, pinching her nipple with one hand and bringing my other down to her hip to help her ride me, encouraging her movements as I thrust up from the bottom to push deeper and harder inside her. “You feel like mine, Juliet. Mine now, and mine forever.”
“Yours, always yours,” she pants in agreement, voice thick with need and her head lolling forward onto my shoulder. I take advantage of the column of her throat now exposed, trailing open-mouthed kisses over her shoulder and neck. The hot, wet clench of her around me is fucking heavenly, and my teeth scrape her shoulder, bliss searing through me.
“Jared!” Juliet screams, her voice muffled by my shoulder. “Yes, please. Oh, I’m gonna—”
“Come all over my cock, little fairy,” I tell her, seconds away from my own orgasm. “I want to fill up this pretty pussy, so you feel me inside you all fucking day. Fuck, yes, take it all.”
Juliet comes, and the squeeze and pulse of her inner walls send me over my own edge. My teeth sink into her shoulder, and I come hard inside her, filling her just like I promised I would. She grinds against me, drawing out both of our orgasms, and I kiss and lick over the mark I’ve made on her skin. I know I should probably stop leaving marks, given she keeps getting asked about them, but fuck I love knowing she’s carrying around my mark. A claim. A sign she belongs to me.
Juliet is limp and soft, panting against my skin as we catch our breath. I stroke a hand up and down her spine, soothing her.
After a minute, we pull apart, and I head for the shower, intending to take her with me. But she laughs and pushes me away, shaking her head.
“If we get in that shower together, I’ll get more dirty instead of getting clean!” she protests, making me grin.
I huff, but I know she’s right, and I need to order us some food before I fuck her again. I mean it when I tell her I want to look after her and that includes making sure she’s got enough energy to both dance the way she does…and fuck.
She showers first, and I add some food to the basket on the takeout app, leaving it open so Juliet can add whatever she wants when she gets out. I kiss her chastely, nodding to the phone, then head to grab my own shower while she wraps her hair in a towel and pulls on a set of silky pajamas.
Just as I’m stepping under the spray, I swear I hear someone knock on the door. I shower quickly, wrap a towel around my waist, and head back to the bedroom. But Juliet isn’t there, and I frown, heading down the hall in search of my girl.
I find her still at the door and sidle up behind her to see who’s there. We weren’t expecting anyone, and there’s no way the food has arrived this fast.
When I see who’s on the other side, I freeze.
“Laura?” I ask, jaw dropping open and taking in the fact my daughter’s standing right there.
Oh, fuck.
Laura’s eyes go wide as saucers, darting between Juliet and me. With Juliet in her pajamas and me in nothing but a towel, it only takes Laura two seconds to conclude what’s happening here.
There’s a long, heavy beat of silence where the crisis management part of my brain begins to kick in and go wild, as though I can fix this the way I fix shit at work.
Laura speaks before I can. “What…what the hell is going on?”
Juliet’s face drops, her eyes wide and watery, her lips parting but no sound coming out. The confusion and fear on her face make me want to wrap her in my arms and protect her from the world. But that’s not what’s needed right now.
“Okay, let’s all sit down and discuss this,” I suggest, thankful for the years of crisis management work has given me.
“Are you going to put some clothes on before we do or do I have to act like it’s normal to see my dad in nothing but a towel sitting on my best friend’s couch?” Laura asks, the words both harsh and a little wobbly.
She’s my daughter, and I hate seeing that look on her face just as much as I hate it on Juliet’s.
“Of course,” I say gently, ushering Laura inside fully and closing the door behind her. “Why don’t you guys go get a drink and have a seat, and I’ll get dressed and join you in a second?”