Your Dad Will Do (A Touch of Taboo 1) - Page 9

And I do. I unclasp the garters and peel off the tights, and then slip off the belt itself. When he returns a few minutes later with fresh drinks, I’m standing there naked, not sure what to do. We just fucked on the couch, but it feels weird as hell to just sit down.

Shane stops when he sees me and arches his brows. “Problem?”

I lift my hands and then let them drop. “In my head, this ended when we both orgasmed. I don’t know how to handle this.” I motion between us.

If anything, his brows rise higher. “Lily,” he says my name slowly. “You called me Daddy while you came on my cock, and this is what makes you feel awkward?”

Heat surges beneath my skin, and I don’t have to look down to know I’m blushing. “It’s different.”

“No shit.” He walks slowly toward me and passes over my drink. I raise it and take a long sip. It’s cool and fruity and exactly how I like it. Shane drops onto the couch and crooks his fingers at me. “Come here.”

I expect—But then, I should know better by now. If I had a plan coming into tonight, we’ve gone off the rails. Apparently we’re going to keep going off the rails. I let Shane pull me down into his lap and even though we’ve now had sex, I can’t quite get over how much bigger he is than I am. His son is built leaner, but Shane is all broad warrior. Age hasn’t softened him a single bit. He runs his callused hands up my outer thigh to my hip. “I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t do anything I didn’t come here for.”

He makes a face. “Not about that. Not about what I’m going to do to you the second I’m recovered.” He gives my hip a light squeeze as if he can’t help touching me, as if he’s not quite sure this is real. “I’m sorry that he was so fucking stupid to throw someone as special as you away.”

“Shane.” I wait for him to look at me. “I really, really don’t want to talk about it.”

“Too bad, baby girl. You came here looking for revenge, and if I’m going to take part in that, then you’re going to have to bend, too.” He skates his hand back down to my knee, a slow drag that might be comfort or might be the beginnings of a new seduction. “I thought I raised him better, but I fucked up somewhere along the way.”

I’m not in the mood to defend either Shane or Max. It doesn’t fucking matter that Max isn’t a total piece of shit, even if he is a cheating asshole. Maybe the relationship felt just as off to him as it did to me and that was his only way of dealing with it. It doesn’t excuse what he did—nothing can do that—but surely I wouldn’t have been touching myself to thoughts of his dad if things were perfect in our relationship. I take another swallow of my drink. “It wasn’t right between us. I think we both wanted it to be, but it wasn’t.”

He mirrors my thoughts with his words. “That doesn’t excuse what he did.”

“No, it doesn’t.” Slowly, oh so slowly, I lay my head on his shoulder. “I’m probably a right asshole to be here right now.”

“Let’s just say there’s enough asshole in this situation to go round.” He sighs. “Too late to take it back now.”

Against all reason, that makes me smile. I twist to look up at him. “You mean you don’t want to go back to an hour ago before you knew what my pussy tastes like?”

He taps a stern finger against my lips, but his dark eyes twinkle. “You’ve got a mouth on you, baby girl.”

I lean forward and catch his finger between my teeth and then suck it into my mouth. I don’t know what I’m doing. Maybe I’m tired of talking about Max and realizing that I’m just as bad as he is right now, or maybe I just can’t stand the thought of being this close to Shane without having some part of him inside me. The reason doesn’t matter. His reaction does.

He twists his wrist and grasps my chin, his eyes going hard in a way that makes my body sing to life. “I would have thought you’d need more time to recover after what we just did.”

I would have thought so, too, but I’m already fighting not to squirm in his lap. I swirl my tongue around his finger and beg him with my eyes. I don’t even know what I’m begging for. It doesn’t matter. Shane seems to know.

He takes my glass from my hand, sets it on the side table next to his, and then shifts me around until my back is against his chest. I’m still trying to figure out where this is going, to anticipate his next touch, when he starts idly running his hands up and down my body. My hips. My sides. Palming my breasts. Up to bracket my throat and then moving back down. “Needy little slut,” he murmurs in my ear. “You get a taste for orgasms at my hand and that’s all you want, isn’t it?”


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