The Single Dad: Girl’s Sexual Awakening

68



I knew why he’d asked.

There was an entire spread that had been set up on a table with flutes of champagne, small sandwiches, fruit, salad, even dessert.

“Hungry?” I sighed. “More like blown away.”

“This is nothing.” He kissed up my shoulder, around my throat, and to my ear. “You have no idea the things I’m going to do for you.”

I turned and wrapped my arms around him. “What made you think of this?”

He chuckled. “I saw you rubbing your neck while we were in Vegas. You do that whenever you sit for too long. I wanted to ease some of that pain.”

My head shook from side to side. “You’re observant.”

“Just with you.” He kissed me. “Because I can’t take my fucking eyes off you.”

There were times I felt that.

His stare so heated that I could sense every place he looked.

“Thank you.” I pressed my nose to his. “For bringing me here. For putting this together. It’s incredibly special.”

“So are you.” He held my face, keeping us close. “Once she knows, things are going to change. I’ll be able to touch you whenever I want. Kiss you. Have you sleep in my bed. Not all at once, but eventually, as she gets used to us.” He paused. “I want Everly to see what a relationship looks like. I don’t want to hide it from her.”

My heart took in his words; they circled through me, spun. And while I heard them repeat in my head, I took a moment to relish in his news. “Do you think she’ll be okay with that-with us?”

“To be honest, she’s never had to share me with anyone, but she loves you, Sydney. She emulates you in ways you probably don’t even realize.” He reached toward the table and grabbed the champagne, handing me a glass. “I suspect she’s going to be thrilled.” His hand slipped inside my robe, his fingers applying pressure on my breasts. “Now, it’s time to celebrate you.”

I gasped as he tugged on my nipple. He moved to the other side, rolling it between his fingers.

Pulling.

Flicking so gently.

“Ford …”

He loosened the robe, and it fell from my shoulders, tingles instantly exploding inside me.

He dropped his robe and took me by the hand, escorting me down the three steps into the tub. The water was so hot that it took my breath away. He sat on the bench inside, the water landing in the middle of his chest, his arms resting across the edge.

I went to sit beside him, but he pulled me onto his lap.

Straddling him.

“Take a drink,” he ordered.

Once I did, he set my glass outside the tub next to his.

With his hands free, he rubbed them over my body. “Fuck, you feel good.” His lips landed on my collarbone, kissing down to my breast.

My eyes were starting to close when I felt something cold on my skin. Something almost electric. That was when I realized it was the champagne. He was pouring it on me, licking it off.

“Oh God.” I quivered.

My nipples ached; they were so hard.

My body so wet that I was throbbing.

I moaned his name as I rose on his lap, giving him more space to pour.

To lap.

To bite.

I dived my fingers into his hair, leading him toward my nipple.

But the more I tried to direct him, the more he resisted.

Ford was the kind of man who was always in control.

He didn’t take direction.

He gave orders instead.

And that was exactly what his eyes told me as he breathed across my nipple.

There was no touching.

Just air.

With feral, intense eyes, he asked, “Do you want more?”

“Yes.”

“How badly?”

“Please,” I pleaded, the need like a blast that required urgent attention. “Ford … now.”

He blew again, this time only a hairbreadth away from my nipple.

His tongue extended, but before it touched me, he pulled back.

“You’re going to get everything you want,” he told me. “But you’re going to have to beg.”

NINETEENCopyright Nôv/el/Dra/ma.Org.

FORD

I

wanted her to beg.

Maybe it was the fact that I hadn’t tasted her since we’d left LA, not risking the chance of Everly walking into Sydney’s bedroom and seeing us.

Maybe it was because we were in a public setting and the thrill of that turned me the fuck on.

Maybe I just wanted to hear how badly she wanted me.

But as I had her positioned over me, her needs filled my ears.

One at a time.

“Please,” she cried, her back arching.

I poured champagne over her shoulder, watching it dribble down her chest, pooling at the top of her nipple.

I licked the path, stopping when I neared her tit.

My mouth wasn’t going there just yet.

She had to wait.

“Ford!”

I added more, this time to the center of her breasts. The cold, bubbly liquid popped against her, telling me the carbonation was doing exactly what I wanted.

Tingling.

Urging.

“Oh God, touch me.”

Words that were so fucking sexy.

But they weren’t enough.

I covered more of her, every inch that wasn’t beneath the water.

Slowly.

Meticulously.

Painting the champagne over her body, avoiding the spots that would give her any relief.

I wanted to see a build.

I wanted more begging.

“Ahhh! Please! Now!”

I didn’t stop until both glasses were empty.

Instead of getting out to retrieve the bottle, I lifted her onto the edge of the tub and spread her legs across it. I moved in front of her, and her fingers raked through my hair, trying to pull me toward her pussy.

To give her the relief she’d been asking for.

I glanced up, my mouth inches from her pussy. “Is this what you want, Sydney?”

She nodded; her lips parted as she breathed through them.

“You want me to fucking eat you?”


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