55
CASEY
Casey
Butterflies erupt the second I hear the front door open.
I have time to run back to the bedroom. He probably would be none the wiser. But honestly, where’s the fun in doing what you’re told?
So instead of running, I adjust his jersey around my waist, attempt to smooth down my wild sex hair, and rest my ass against the counter in the hope I look even a little bit alluring.
Each of his footsteps rock through me, but I refuse to cower. Instead, I use his approaching presence to strengthen my resolve.
He booked an earlier flight so he could see me sooner. He’s come back after dropping Sutton at school. It all leads me to believe he really wants this.
If it were a quick hookup to take the edge off what was building between us this week, he’d have gone after he first had me. But he didn’t. Instead, we cuddled.
Fuck.
I cuddled with Kodie freaking Rivers, and it was awesome.
I hold my breath as his shadow appears a beat before he steps around the corner.
His eyes widen the second he sees me, and his lips press into a thin line.
Oh, he’s pissed.
I’m fucking giddy. Who knew I could hold the power to shake this incredible man?
I hold my head higher as his eyes run down the length of me.
“What are you doing?” he growls, the rasp of his voice hitting me right between the legs.
My pussy should be done. We had two very intense rounds in the middle of the night. But that doesn’t seem to be the case. Instead, she seems to have forgotten she’s already had more thrills than usual for this time of the morning.
He approaches, eating up the space between us in a few short strides, sucking all the air from the room as he does.
“I needed a drink,” I say coyly, fluttering my lashes at him like I’m all innocent.
“You’re not in bed,” he states.
“I know, but?—”
His jaw tics, his fists clenching at his sides.
He’s huge, strong, powerful, and nothing but corded muscle. But I’m not scared of him. Instead, I’m desperate, needy, and craving another taste of him. “No buts, Casey. You defied me.”
I bite down on my bottom lip praying it stops a groan from breaking free.
“Sorry, Daddy,” I whisper. “Are you going to punish me?”
Oh, please. Give me everything.
He moves again, abandoning the takeout coffee tray and paper bag on the counter before grabbing my hand and dragging me from my spot.
I race behind him, my heart pounding a mile a minute.
He leads me out of my kitchen and into my modest living area before he drops onto my couch.
