Chapter 17
Oh my word.
All of that naked Daddy on display.
I took the world’s quickest shower, making sure to scrub in all the important places and prepare myself for the monster cock I knew awaited me outside.
Afterward, I did as promised. I prepared a bucket (thanks, handy ice bucket) of warm, soapy water and headed back into the room so I could clean up Crowe.
And miracles of all miracles, he actually followed orders.
I would be lying if I said a small part of me was kind of expecting to find the room empty and the truck outside missing. But there he was.
Naked.
And very ready for me.
Yay me!
I practically skipped across the room, ice bucket in hand, my body still humming with the aftershocks of adrenaline and victory.
Crowe watched me, expression unreadable, but I could tell by the way his fingers flexed and relaxed against the bedding that he was tense—in a way that had nothing to do with his healing leg.
“Ready for your luxurious spa experience, Daddy?” I crooned, running my fingers through the sudsy water. “I’ve got a five-star review average on Yelp, by the way.”
He didn’t say anything, just shook his head at me a little, those dark eyes never leaving my face.
The silence was heavy and thick and, honestly, a little thrilling.
I wrung out the soft cloth and started moving it over the large plains of his chest. What could only be described as a purr rumbled through his chest and I had the abject fascination of watching his cock bob as I paid attention to every single part of his body but the one-eyed snake that was begging to be tamed.
There was something I hadn't expected about washing Crowe with a warm cloth, and it wasn't just the fact that his skin was softer than I thought it would be. No, the real surprise was how quiet he went, how still. It was like he was afraid to move in case he broke something. I took my time, circling his thick arms, the hard, heavy muscles of his chest, the sharp angles of his collarbone and jaw. Every touch was a new discovery, like I was running my hands over an entire, unexplored continent. Every scar was a story waiting to be told, and every tattoo a discovery I couldn’t even begin to marvel at.
He let me do it, too. Let me touch him, clean him, get close enough that I had to fight every urge not to climb straight into his lap and start what we both wanted so badly.
But I was determined to do this right. To give us both a moment of sweetness before all hell inevitably broke loose, as was apparently our fate. Or you know… the fucking commenced.
It took everything in me not to just drop the washcloth and climb on top of him.
He was so handsome it almost hurt to look at him straight on.
All those years on the road—on my own, flitting from one adventure to the next, pretending I didn’t care if anyone ever wanted me—felt like a weird, distant dream compared to the reality of Crowe beneath my hands.
I could get used to this. I could get used to him.
We had so much to talk about. So much to settle. But in the cab of his truck, he’d given in. I’d seen it. And the fact that he was here, letting me look after him like this felt like the proof I needed that he was in it with me.
Crowe let me have my little spa routine for a few more indulgent, shivery seconds, then grabbed my wrist so suddenly the cloth splashed back into the bucket and almost sloshed over the side.
“No more fucking around,” he said, and the voice that rolled out of him was so low and hungry I almost dropped to my knees on the spot. Yes please.
I let the bucket thunk to the floor, not giving a thought to the mess I made, and looked up at him with every ounce of pure, unfiltered lust I could muster.
He tugged me closer, pressing my palm to his chest. He was wet and warm and impossibly solid.
His other hand found my hip and squeezed, pinning me to the spot.
I could feel the outline of his cock, hard and hot, against my bare thigh.
“Get up here,” Crowe ordered. “Now.”
I’d have pretended to argue, for a little bit, but I was already crawling over him, way too hungry for another taste of what we shared to even think of fighting him on this. My aching cock bobbed between my legs, probably leaking a stream of precum onto Crowe as I settled over him.
“Are you ready for me, or do I need to stretch you out, baby?” he asked, his voice a delicious, soft growl.
Oh. Oh.
“Fuck me, Daddy,” I begged as I hovered right over his cock.
I didn't have to ask twice. In one smooth, animal movement, Crowe reared up and caught me with both hands, hauling me down into his lap until the head of his cock grazed the entrance to my hole.
The heat of it, the pressure against me, made my entire body jump and spark with anticipation.
He held me there with his hands on my ass, kneading, spreading me open for him. "You're sure?" he murmured, but I could see the answer in the way his eyes burned and the flush on his neck. He wanted it desperately. He wanted me desperately.
"Yes, Daddy," I said, and then I was lowering myself onto him, feeling myself open up, stretch, and swallow the impossible thickness of him. I braced a hand on his shoulder, digging in as the searing, perfect pain gave way to breathtaking fullness and pleasure.
He groaned, voice going raw at the feel of me sinking down onto his cock. "You’re perfect, do you know that, baby?” he asked, his low growl almost reverent.
I didn't trust myself to answer him with words, so instead I just started riding him, keeping my eyes locked on his. The sensation was too much, too intense, and my body rebelled by trembling, squeezing around him as he filled me. I shuddered, holding onto his broad shoulders as I set the pace. Keeping it, at first, slow, then fast, then slow again, a tease of rhythm that made us both insane. Crowe’s hands didn’t just cup my ass but grabbed it, pulling me down hard, guiding my movements so I couldn’t get away from the thick, pulsing heat of his cock.
I moaned for him, couldn’t help it, the need and pleasure mixing up inside me until I was babbling, completely lost in the feel of him.
“Oh fuck, Daddy, you’re so deep, you’re so—” He cut me off with a savage kiss, tongue invading my mouth in a way that made me burn. He devoured me, as he continued to fill me.
He moved his hands up, palms spanning my back, then gripped my shoulders so I couldn’t look away from him as I rolled my hips, grinding down on him, milking every inch of him.
I could feel the heat building, could feel my body getting closer and closer to the brink, and I could tell by the way his hands dug into my skin that Crowe was right fucking there with me.
Every time I lifted myself off him, he pulled me back down harder, pounding up into me with hunger and need so raw I thought it would tear me apart.
“Touch yourself,” he ordered, his voice a low rumble that vibrated right through my bones. “I want to watch you come on my cock, baby.”
I obeyed immediately, because I was never going to say no to him. Not now, not ever. I grabbed my aching erection and stroked fast and rough, not even trying to hold back as I rode him with everything I had.
It was electric. Embarrassing, really, how quickly I unraveled for him.
How a single order or a sharp thrust sent me careening over the edge.
I came with a desperate, keening sound, sticky and hot as it spattered over Crowe’s chest and my own fingers.
My muscles locked, my body bucking against his, every inch of me clenching down around the cock inside me, spasming so hard it nearly hurt.
Crowe lost control at the same time. His hands clenched down on my waist, holding me still as he drove up, deep enough to hit something inside me that made my vision go white.
He groaned, the sound guttural and devastating, and I felt him pulsing, filling me with so much come that it started to drip down my thighs almost immediately.
We stayed locked together, breathing hard with Crowe’s arms wrapped tight around me, my face buried against the side of his neck.
“You better not have messed up your bandage, Daddy. Or I’ll be forced to spank you, and I’m not sure how that’s going to work out for us.”
My sexy Daddy growled before giving me a hard smack on the ass.
Wasn’t he just perfect?