Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 106538 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 533(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106538 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 533(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
On my knees, I discard her boots and peel her tight jeans down her legs along with her panties, but I only get one leg free before I come undone with need. Hooking that leg over my shoulder, I devour her.
“Ozzy!” she cries, claiming my hair with both hands to keep her balance. “Oh god, yesss, Ozzy . . . yesss . . .”
I don’t know if any part of me deserves any part of her, but I’m going to do my damnedest to pretend that every part of me does.
As I kiss my way up her body, more grease transfers from my hands and face to her stomach and all over her perfect tits. I guide her backward toward a stack of old tires wedged into the corner of the garage.
“You’re so beautiful,” I murmur over her shoulder and neck. “You make every goddamn day better.”
She presses her hands to my cheeks, forcing me to look at her, and I know from the look in her eyes that she’s trusting me with more than just her body. The tip of her tongue traces her bottom lip as she smiles, and I feel it—I feel her—in my fucking bones.
Our mouths collide, and I shove my jeans and briefs down a little farther to midthigh before lifting her leg with one hand and gripping the base of my cock with my other, lining it up with her wet entrance and driving into her.
Her deep moans make it hard to keep from coming, but I channel enough control to make this last longer than ten seconds.
Maren thrusts her tongue into my mouth as her hand grips my ass, digging into my muscles while I piston in and out of her.
This is, by far, the hottest fucking moment of my life.
She’s warm, tight, and so goddamn wet. The garage fills with the rhythmic slapping of flesh and the scattered moans of pleasure. I don’t feel like a dad. I feel like a seventeen-year-old who just discovered how incredible it is to bury my dick inside a woman. And for the foreseeable future (or at least the next twenty-four hours), this is all I want to do.
“God, I need this . . . so . . . much . . .” Maren’s back arches, and I duck my head to suck her nipple into my mouth. I tug at it with my teeth, and she orgasms with my name echoing loudly from her lips, her insides clenching my dick.
I didn’t realize how many emotions and physical needs I let die with my wife until now. Maren’s bringing them—bringing me—back to life.
And that’s all it takes for my hips to jerk faster, uncontrolled, until I spill into her. Mind-numbing bliss floods my body, racing and pulsing with my release.
The slapping stops.
The moans die.
Our bodies remain idle in a tangle of limbs.
And our labored breaths chase one another until they slow, welcoming a few seconds of silence.
It’s been more than two years since I’ve had sex, and many, many years since I’ve had sex like this. Maybe I never have.
“Your neighbors might have heard me,” she mumbles through a soft laugh.
I chuckle, easing out of her and lowering her leg to the floor.
How wrong is it that I’m semi-erect again just from a long look at her nearly naked body covered in grease graffiti, lips swollen, cheeks red, and hair mussed?
None of the above are all that wrong.
What’s most wrong is how satisfied I feel seeing my cum running down her inner thigh.
I had no idea I was such an animal. But clearly I am.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Maren
I don’t believe it’s possible to make up for lost time, but Ozzy’s trying. If I look at him for longer than two seconds, it leads to sex.
By the end of our twenty-four hours together, I’ll have had sex with Ozzy more times than all other men I’ve dated—combined. (Not really, but it feels that way.)
I’m not complaining. It’s only an observation.
He smirks, buttoning his jeans after taking me from behind at the kitchen sink halfway through washing the dinner dishes Saturday evening. My pulse hasn’t returned to normal yet, and my cheeks still feel flushed as I shuffle to the bathroom with my underwear bunched in my hand and wearing only his T-shirt. Ozzy doesn’t even try to hide the satisfaction on his face. There are no shy glances. He likes to admire his work with confidence and a sexy grin.
After flushing the toilet and washing my hands, I stare at my reflection in the mirror and the permanent smile I’ve been wearing since I arrived a few hours earlier.
It’s not just the sex; it’s Ozzy and Lola. I’ve fallen in love with a single dad and his irresistible daughter. And I’m scared out of my mind of hurting them because I don’t know if I can fit into their life with its shrunken borders.