Chapter 3

Three

Missy

Oh, thank God he suggested staying in the break room a little longer.

I’ve stopped being afraid of the constant fluttering between my thighs and I’ve begun enjoying it. That tugging melt that makes me wish for…what? I don’t know. Only that I’m confident this big, gruff man can give it to me. Give me relief.

And a baby.

I can’t believe he agreed to get me pregnant. I’m so lucky. I seem to have found someone who understands. Turk is the first person I’ve told about my plans to raise a child on my own and he didn’t scoff or ridicule me. Didn’t tell me I’m too young or that I need a man in my life to care for a baby successfully. He’s non-judgmental and kind—and to quote the girls I used to go to college with, I think he might be hot as shit.

No, I’m positive of it—and because he makes me feel so accepted and safe, I want…more. I want to be touched by him and see how it feels.

Why are the tips of his ears red?

“I was thinking…” He closes his eyes and gives a rapid headshake, as if he’s having a hard time getting the words out. “I could kiss you. If you’re up for it, I mean.”

“I would like that very much,” I murmur, staring at his mouth and trying to figure out how it will fit together with mine. “You have to show me how.”

When did his chest start to rise and fall so fast? “Oh. Okay. Jesus.”

My eyes fly up to meet his. “Is it bad that I’m so green?”

“No, cutie. I’m just, uh…” He stoops forward slightly, looks to be in pain. “The fact that you’re letting me be your first kiss has me a little worked up.”

“Worked up? What does that mean?”

His swallow is audible in the break room. “You know. I’ve got a, uh…”

“Yes?”

“My cock is hard.” He exhales shakily at the ceiling. “Like extra painfully hard.”

“Because I’m a virgin?”

“No. Because you’re you, Missy. You’re sweet and beautiful and pure and for some reason, you’re choosing me to help you…be a lot less pure. And frankly?” His laughter is pained. “My dick is honored. I can barely believe you’re letting me kiss you, let alone take you to bed.”

Take you to bed.

Those words coming out of his mouth cause a flex of my stomach muscles.

Slowly, I let my eyes trail down his mountainous torso and as he mentioned, there is quite a large protuberance tenting the front of his folded down jumpsuit. “Oh…” I’m tingling everywhere. All over. My breasts, my loins, the pulse points of my neck. “If we kiss, will that make it better?”

“No. It’s going to make it worse.” His voice is like black smoke. “I need to do it anyway.”

“I understand,” I manage, feeling hypnotized. Like I’m on the brink of an incredible ride or experience and Turk makes me feel cared for enough to let go. “I’m ready.”

He nods once. Seems to gather himself with several deep breaths. And then his hands close around my hips, squeezing me through my skirt. Dragging upward through the valleys of my sides, his thumbs just barely brushing the curve of my breasts—but that light touch is enough to make me gasp. Make me need to get closer. I wiggle to the very edge of the desk and pull him toward me by the chest hair. All the way until my breasts meet the under curve of his pectorals. We both moan and my head falls back automatically. Neck powerless.

Turk’s hands continue their upward journey, his fingertips sliding into my hair and angling my head to the right, his hard mouth coming down on mine. Kissing me firmly once, twice, then parting my lips with a stroke of his tongue.

It’s like an alarm going off in the middle of a dead sleep.

Every fiber, every molecule housed within my body begins to rush in countless directions. I open my lips wider and welcome the next deeper rake of his tongue through my mouth, the groan he releases into it, his thick body pressing in close between my legs, blunt fingers tangling in my hair. At first, the kiss is a shock to the senses, a slow introduction, but that changes.

Quickly.

And it’s my doing, I believe? I’m too overwrought to pay attention to who makes which moves. All I know is that my legs are wrapped around his waist, bringing that woefully huge part of him up against my womanhood. Right there. His sex is three times the size of mine, so I have no earthly clue how one will fit into the other, but I’ve always been curious. I’m extra curious now. I want to know everything, do everything, try things with this man that I’ve never been tempted to try with anyone else.

I tap his brawny shoulder to get his attention, but he’s distracted by the kiss—and so am I. Almost enough to forget my intention. Because my goodness, we are attacking each other. He’s got me crushed to his bare chest, our mouths in a panting frenzy of licks and burning hot tastes and my head is full of helium, almost distracting me from asking for more.

“Do you…” I break away, laboring to breathe. “Do you want to try putting it in?”

Turk makes a hoarse sound and his hands plummet from my hair down to my backside, gripping it through my skirt and fondling my roughly. “Fuck me. Missy. Cutie.” He yanks me forward hard, slamming his hips forward at the same time, his breath stuttering out, eyes glazing over. “You have no idea how much I want to put it in.”

“Me too,” I whimper.

He growls into my neck, biting me beneath the ear—and I gasp at the incredible sensation that the raze of his teeth sends down my spine. “I’m not taking my one shot with you in the break room.”

“You can come to my office.”

Why does he look so miserable? “If I fuck you, it’ll be over.”

Yes, but we’ll both have had an amazing experience. Isn’t that the reason we’ve formed this short relationship in the first place? I don’t see any reason for a delay. “I’d like to get pregnant today, if possible.”

“You’re going to kill me,” he pants, his mouth smothering mine, dragging me back into another wild kiss. And my lips are no longer the only part of me being kissed. His perfect, perfect mouth rakes up and down the side of my neck, his hands sneaking beneath my skirt to clutch my bare bottom while our hips begin to roll in a rhythm I somehow know is meaningful. Within seconds, I’m being pounded through my panties with such force, the desk pushes across the floor and comes to a loud stop against the wall. “God, those pretty legs are open so nice. Offering me nothing but a tight little welcome for this cock, huh, cutie? Were you sent here to rescue me or torture me to death?”

“What d-do you mean?” I gasp, my earlobe between his teeth, his fingers digging into the flesh of my buttocks, the desk creaking with every forward punch of his lower body.

“I mean that a virgin angel has never been so hot to get banged, and baby…coming between these thighs would mean immortality and a death sentence at the same time.” He curses under his breath, sweat shining on his forehead. He tucks my face into his neck and rides me all the harder through the barrier of our clothing. “I need more time. I need you as long as possible. Please. If you open your legs any wider, I’m going to lose it. If you keep whimpering and whining and flashing me those innocent eyes, I’m fucked.”

For the first time in my life, I’m incapable of understanding someone’s meaning. The words are coming out of his mouth and I have no idea what they mean, because an unfamiliar location beneath my belly button has started to gather. To tighten. I scramble a little on the desk and cry out, pushing at Turk’s shoulders, pulling him closer. “What…what’s happening?”

Immediately, he tips up my chin, studies me through glassy eyes, his hard exhale bathing my face. “Ah, Christ. You’re going to have an orgasm, Missy.”

“Okay,” I bite off, unable to catch my breath. Oh God. I’m burning up. My limbs are tense, but gelatinous at the same time. How is that possible. “Is that good?”

“It’s so damn good, cutie. Your first orgasm is going to be right where it belongs. On my motherfucking lap while I tongue that little girl mouth.” His lips take mine in a slow, deep, reassuring kiss—and then I’m being lifted off the desk. Carried around the piece of furniture with my legs clamped around Turk’s waist. I’m so busy trying to rub myself on his distended flesh, because friction, somehow I know it will save my life, that I have no warning when Turk sits down in the desk chair—and I scream into his neck at the change in gravity. Suddenly I am able to grind down on his bulge as hard as I want and it unleashes euphoria inside of me.

Unfiltered, frenetic hunger.

“Go fucking crazy on it, Missy.”

“No,” I whimper, hips writhing, barely recognizing my own voice. “C-call me what you did before.”

“Cutie?”

“The other one,” I whisper in his ear—and he tenses, breathing faster.

His voice is thick as brick when he speaks again. “Little girl.”

I moan shamelessly, tilting my lower body in such a way that this certain region is making contact with Turk’s hardness—and it’s explosive. The combination of that spot receiving pressure and his voice rasping those two words in my ear. Why does Turk calling me by that name feel like the key to unlocking an undiscovered world?

“We talked about your body trusting mine, didn’t we?” he grits out, his big hands on my bottom, kneading it, urging me faster. “Maybe you…maybe we need the ultimate trust.” His palm strikes my right cheek lightly, but even that gentle slap makes everything inside of me flex and quiver. “The kind of trust you can only get from Daddy.”

A feeling like I’ve never imagined or experienced before ripples through my core and Turk lifts his hips, bouncing me over and over again as the pleasure tackles my senses.

“Say it,” he groans.

I bounce up and down, my breasts jostling in the neckline of my tank top, thighs shaking uncontrollably. “Daddy. Daddy.”

The key turns and I walk into paradise. Yes. This is what has been missing.

Trust. Guidance. Permission. Heat so dense it overtakes me.

I’m soaking his lap. Should that embarrass me? It doesn’t seem to matter. Nothing seems to matter but looking into Turk’s intense blue eyes and allowing myself to fly, to feel gratification I never thought possible. I’m one giant pulsing nerve and nothing in the world is wrong, everything is right and glorious and perfect.

I don’t realize I’ve lost consciousness until my eyes open a crack and I find myself draped over Turk’s heaving body, his mouth planting kisses on my hairline. “Come back to me, cutie. I need to see those eyes.”

Shifting slightly, I blink up at him and he swallows loudly, his heart knocking faster against my shoulder.

“Wow,” he whispers. “Just…wow. You’re so gorgeous, it hurts.”

“Thank you.” Flustered by the compliment, I wet my parched lips, finding I’m slightly tongue-tied when I try to speak. “That was the best thing I’ve ever done,” I say, wanting to return the gesture. But before he can react, a thought occurs to me. “I can’t…that is, a woman can’t get pregnant from this?”

“No,” he says right away, shaking his head rapidly. “I’m still hard as fucking nails. I didn’t let out a single drop. Believe me. I’m super aware that none of my Elvises have left the building.”

A giggle climbs my throat and catches me off guard. When was the last time I laughed? And so easily? “Is it bad that I called you Daddy?”

“I don’t care if it’s good or bad.” He leans in and looks me in the eye, forehead pressing to mine. “I give you what you need.”

That’s when it happens. Something I wasn’t expecting.

My heart quite simply begins to float.

For this man. This man who has agreed to one night with me. One night only.

A man who wants no responsibility for the child we’ll make together.

Uh oh.

Loud voices outside the door interrupt my troubled thoughts and Turk hurriedly stands us up and begins to fix my clothing, kissing me on the forehead several times while he does it.

“So…about our date,” I begin nervously. Does he still want to take me out? I’ve just rubbed myself all over his lap and he still seems very tense, his jaw clenched, sweat beading on his upper lip. “I’m, um…well, tomorrow is Saturday and I’m free. If you are.”

“Is five a.m. too early to pick you up?” he blurts, the tops of his ears turning red again. “We could go for a walk. Have breakfast—” His eyes close. “Shit, I have a game tomorrow.”

“I thought you said you couldn’t play anymore.”

“I can’t. But my old team is playing and I promised I’d stand on the sidelines.” He slashes a hand through the air. “It’s fine, I’m going to cancel—”

“No, don’t do that.”

“We’re going on a date, Missy,” he responds adamantly, his hand framing my face. “Don’t take it away from me, please.”

“I’m not.” Why are my lungs having such a hard time operating? Is it the way he’s looking at me? Like he’s worried I’ll disappear? “I c-could come with you. To the game.”

The tension ebbs from his shoulders. “Why didn’t I think of that?” He kisses the crown of my head, then my nose. Then my mouth where he lingers for several seconds, tasting me. Nudging my lips open for mutual licks. “I’ll be at your place at noon.”

“Okay,” I breathe.

Can’t believe it. I’m going on my first date.

First and last.

Why does the reminder that my arrangement with Turk is temporary suddenly hurt so much?