Chapter 5: The First Full Night

Mom had polished off most of the bottle of merlot downstairs after book club, her laughter turning sleepy and thick until she finally passed out on the couch with the TV murmuring some late-night talk show. The house was quiet except for the soft rise and fall of her breathing drifting up the stairs. I waited until the clock hit eleven, heart hammering with the kind of need that had been building since I swallowed Daddy’s cum in his study two nights ago. My body still remembered the taste, the stretch of my throat, the way his hands had trembled against my cheeks during that first real kiss. Tonight I wanted everything.

I slipped out of my room wearing nothing but one of his old white T-shirts, the hem skimming the tops of my thighs, no panties, no bra. The fabric smelled like him—cologne and faint garage grease—and it made my nipples tighten against the cotton as I padded barefoot down the hall to his bedroom. The door was cracked, lamplight spilling out. He was already in bed, propped against the headboard in loose boxers, scrolling his phone with that same shadowed exhaustion I’d seen since the garage. Salt-and-pepper hair messy, broad chest bare, compass tattoo dark against his skin.

He looked up when I pushed the door open. His eyes widened, then darkened with the same hunger I’d felt grinding on his lap in the study. “Emma ... babygirl, what are you—”

I didn’t let him finish. I crawled onto the bed and straight into his arms, straddling his lap like I had that night, but this time with nothing between us except the thin T-shirt. Our mouths met instantly, desperate and deep, tongues sliding hot and wet the way they had after I licked him clean. His hands cupped my face, thumbs brushing my cheeks, then slid down to grip my waist, pulling me tighter. The kiss turned filthy fast—teeth nipping, moans swallowed between us, the kind of kiss that said we’d crossed every line already and were never going back.

“God, I need you,” he growled against my lips, voice rough like gravel. He peeled the T-shirt up and off in one smooth motion, leaving me completely naked in his lap. His eyes raked over me like he was memorizing every curve—breasts heavy and aching, nipples peaked, the smooth skin of my stomach, the glistening slit between my thighs already slick from just climbing into his bed. “So fucking beautiful. My babygirl.”

He leaned in and worshipped me with his mouth. Lips closed around one nipple, sucking slow and deep, tongue flicking until I arched with a whimper. His teeth grazed the sensitive peak, then soothed it with gentle licks while his hand kneaded the other breast. I threaded my fingers through his hair, holding him there as heat bloomed low in my belly. He moved lower, kissing down the valley between my breasts, across my ribs, nipping at the soft skin of my inner thighs until I was trembling. His stubble scraped deliciously, leaving faint pink trails. Every kiss felt like a claim.