Page 22 of Insatiable Bachelor (Bachelor Tower 1)
“Tell me what you want, Penny. I want to hear you say it. He lowers his mouth to my breast with delightful expertise. I can’t think. I’m pretty sure I can’t speak. I just moan and thrust my hips upward as his tip brushes over my clit. “Say it,” he commands. He slides his cock back and forth over my nub.
“Oh,” I cry out. “Yes, I want your cock. Please fuck me, Dalton. Fuck me.” His nostrils flare and the next kiss he gives me rewards my boldness.
His hand roves over my peaks, and he dips the tip of his cock in and out of me. His first deep thrust sends heat and pleasure rushing through me. His hands go to my hips, and he adjusts me so he can go deeper.
God, deeper is good.
Harder. Faster. Deeper.
I come powerfully, clinging to him as he continues to drive into me.
“Oh, yes, baby. Let yourself go.”
I take a moment to bask in the glow even as I feel my body revving for him again. His mouth claims mine, and I think he’s about to orgasm as well, but he rolls us both over so I’m draped across his chest.
I’ve never been on top. I sit up, loving the fullness of him within me.
The look on my face must give me away. “Don’t overthink it,” Dalton says, pulling me slowly on top of him. “Do what feels good.”
“What about you?”
“The view alone,” he says, cupping my breast and squeezing tightly, “is enough for me to come a hundred times.”
I start moving tentatively. It’s not like the movies. This position takes balance and for just a second I think I’m going to kill the mood, but then I move in a way that sends a burst of pleasure through me. “Oh,” I gasp.
He laughs, taking full advantage of the opportunity to claim my breasts with his hands. I repeat the move I just discovered once, then again. I always thought being on top would be embarrassing, but it’s empowering. I take him as deeply, as powerfully as I want.
He begins to move with me, and it adds a whole new level. I stop worrying about how I look on top or if he’s enjoying himself and thrust myself wildly toward my second orgasm.
“Harder,” I gasp out as I begin to plummet toward a powerful orgasm. Dalton doesn’t skip a beat. He slaps my ass as he pounds up into me, and the light sting sends me out of control.
This time when I come, he explodes inside me.
“Fuck, you’re so tight. So perfect. Just the way I knew you would be.”
I collapse on his chest, and we lie there for a moment, a sweaty tangle of sated limbs. He kisses my temple lightly. “You good?”
“Oh, yes.” I let out a breath and kiss his chest. “It’s never been like that for me.”
“I figured,” he said with a cocky smile. “There is a reason women recommend me to their friends.”
“Careful.” I should want to smack him, but he’s so adorable I let him off with a light pinch. “Your enormous ego is showing again.”
“Is that what you want to call him?” he asks playfully.
I give up and lay my head on his chest. Really, I feel too good to care about much else.
He runs his hand up from my hip to my neck, tracing my body. “We aren’t done yet.”
“Promise?” I raise my eyes to his.
“I’m going to fuck you until one of us cries uncle. How many times do you think you can come in one night?”
“Before you my record was once.” I could lie, but why bother?
That cocky smile is back, but I love it. “Then let’s see what you do in the hands of a master.”
I could roll my eyes and say something snarky, but I kiss him instead. We can work on his ego later; right now I’d rather work on discovering just how good this can get.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Dalton
Fucking Penny was like winning the lottery, but I knew it would be. Between her sweet naïve attitude and the shock in her eyes when she realized how sex was supposed to be, I was hooked. Her pussy was so tight and so sweet that in the twenty-four hours since I’ve fucked her, I swear I can still feel myself inside her. I’ve had plenty of fun in my life, but watching Penny figure out and own what she wanted, is unmatched.
Seven is her limit if I include the leisurely orgasm I gave her in the shower the next morning.
Leaving that hotel, coming back to reality has been nearly impossible. I’m tempted to stay at her place, but things are still too new, and I know I won’t get any sleep if I do.
Work today feels like it is a week long. All I want to do is get back to my place and show Penny some new moves to make her orgasm even better. I get things done, but my heart isn’t in it. As soon as I’m able to be, I’m back at her door.
“He’s here,” Penny’s sweet voice says as her door flies open. She has all the energy of the host of a surprise party, and I seem to be the guest of honor. Pulling me by the arm, she yanks me into her apartment. Although I can easily plant my feet and keep her from moving me an inch, I let her tug me along.
There’s no other woman I’d play this game with. But the fun ends abruptly when I realize who she’s dragging me toward.
“Dad?” I cough out, as I watch my father rise from Penny’s couch with a good amount of old-man effort. His hair is shaggy and white, and the whiskers on his chin are sprouting in all different directions. He looks at me with watery brown eyes and gaunt cheeks. “What are you doing here?”
“He was waiting in the lobby, and I heard the doorman say he’d have to move along if Mr. Dalton Croft wasn’t back soon. They were trying to be nice to him, but you know how people are in this building. I invited him to wait at my place until you came home.”
There was a business meeting two years ago that I dialed into, not realizing no one but me spoke English. I was between assistants, and I hadn’t thought to bring a translator on the line. This moment feels just about the same. There are words being spoken, information being disseminated, yet I have no idea what’s going on.
“It’s good to see you, Son,” my father says as he ambles gingerly toward me. It has only been a few months since I saw him last. Right? Or was it last year? My antenna for his bullshit is instantly on high alert. I’ve seen him do some despicable things when he’s in debt, so maybe he’s dropped thirty pounds and let his hair go stark white to tug at my heartstrings. He should know better. I cut those things off years ago.
“What are you doing here?” I bark out harshly, and I see Penny’s back stiffen and her face crease with concern.
“He’s visiting you,” she answers for him, and it makes my blood boil. He already has her fooled. This old-man act, the way he has his hat politely tucked under his arm and his cardigan sweater neatly buttoned, is enough to make me sick. “Miles, please sit back down. I’ll finish making tea. Dalton, can I get you a cup?” Her brows are high and her glare is demanding something of me. Something I have no intention to give.
Civility.
Kindness.
She has no idea how wrong she is to assume this man deserves it.
“I’ve been calling you,” my father says, and it grates on my skin to the point that I want to punch something. He always brings the worst out in me, and it’s about to be on display for Penny.
“Don’t make tea,” I yell at Penny, who’s trying to gracefully disappear into the kitchen and give us some space. “He’s leaving.”
“He can take a mug over to your place,” Penny says, her voice too cheery for the volatility of this moment. “I’ll get it back from you later.”
“He’s not coming to my apartment. He’s leaving.” I point to the door, and my father knows well enough that I’m serious. He doesn’t argue as he shuffles in that direction.
“Miles, don’t you dare leave,” Penny says, pushing her fists into her hips and staring me down. “He’s my guest, and I’ve offered him a drink. He will stay and enjoy it as long as he likes. If that’s not good with you, then by all means, you know where the door is.”
“You don’t know him,” I argue, as the flip-book of
all his failures unfolds in my mind. He’s likely to steal something right off her shelf if he’s desperate for money. A pang of guilt bolts through me as I realize up until this point I’m the only one who’s taken something from her. Watch out, the apple isn’t falling too far from the tree.
“Let’s see,” Penny says, tapping a finger to her chin. “So far, he’s been abundantly polite, gracious, and kind. So I suppose we can rule those characteristics out as genetic. You certainly didn’t inherit them.”
There’s a fleeting desire in me to explain that my father is an actor. He wields charm like a weapon, a dangerous one. But I’ve had this fight before. I’ve warned plenty of people to keep clear of him. The trouble with that is, in the moment, I look like the asshole. It’s not until my father becomes the pin that pops the balloon of their delusions, that they finally realize how right I am.
This latest development in what has become a never-ending saga of disruption to my life is the last straw.
“He’s not worth your time.” I point accusingly at my father, who doesn’t bat an eye, because he knows it’s true. “Enjoy your tea.”
I storm out, the way he has a dozen times in my life, the way I started doing to him when I was old enough to see through his game. He only cares about me when his luck is low, and no one cares about him. As soon as his financial situations swings upward, he has no time for me.
Penny’s eyes are on me. I can feel her shooting daggers in my direction. For the first time in my life, I hate knowing I’m disappointing someone. Penny can’t understand because her father has been her world for so long. Her expectation in a father is much higher than mine. And here he is, somehow affecting my relationship with someone I actually give a fuck about. I won’t let him take this from me.
I hear her behind me, asking my father if he’d like cream and sugar in his tea, and my father kindly accepting. I nearly pace a hole in my hardwood floors going slowly insane knowing he’s still at her place. I occasionally hear a rumble of laughter from the other side of the wall, and I imagine what kind of bullshit stories my father is telling. He’s probably painting a picture of a happy life that never was.
