Heartless: A Small Town Single Dad Romance

I’ve died and gone to heaven. I’m sure of it. Because the way Cade wields his tongue is out of this world. He licks me. He sucks me. He bites me. And then he makes me thank him for it.

He’s reduced me to a puddle of hormones on the floor. Or as the case may be, on my bed, while he kneels on the ground and makes a meal out of me with one rough hand splayed against my inner thigh possessively as he slowly works two fingers into my pussy. I squirm and chant, “Cade,” like I’m in some sort of hot-single-dad-loving cult.

I’d be the leader of that cult. For sure.

“That’s it, baby, wide open for me. Are you clenching, Willa?”

“I don’t know,” I breathe out stupidly before leaning up on my elbows to look down at him. He’s all dark and foreboding, his lips glistening with, well, me. “I’m pretty sure I’m having an out-of-body experience.”

“Relax. I’m going to take care of you.” His thumb strokes along the tendons at the top of my upper thigh, making my head fall back on a sigh, my entire body relaxing as I do.

His fingers slide home and I gasp when they curl up into the best spot. No man should be able to find a clit through jeans and the g-spot in one night.

But the one kneeling between my legs can.

“So fucking tight.” His fingers work in and out, and when I glance down at him, his gaze worships between my legs. I feel myself stretching as his fingers twist and scissor. “So fucking wet.” His coal eyes move up, roaming my body hungrily, appreciating every dip and curve. “I’ve never seen such a pretty pussy in my life, Willa.”

Admittedly, I’ve never wondered much about the way my pussy looks. It’s always served its purpose just fine. She’s been a real champ, if you ask me. But I preen under that compliment from Cade. He’s older. More experienced. If he says it’s pretty, well, who am I to disagree?

I lick my lips as I stare down at him. “Thank you.” The words come easier every time. The expression of satisfaction on his face is my reward. At first I was a bit fired up over it, but satisfying Cade—seeing that expression on his face—it’s quickly becoming a favorite pastime of mine.

“Good girl,” he hums, touching my body so reverently that I squirm. He doesn’t rush, he doesn’t slam into me. His movements are languid as he wrings every ounce of pleasure from every corner of my body, and I’ve felt nothing like it before. “Now you’re going to come for me, baby.”

The way his fingers move, his intense stare while he plays with my pretty pussy—his words, not mine—causes everything to build. The sensations. The way the shadows play across his handsome face and chiseled shoulders. The way they flex when he moves his arm. The feel of his fingertips pushing into the soft flesh of my leg.

The sudden way he’s sucking at my clit while lazily pushing his fingers into me. He’s got the whole movement down pat. The curling and pressing rhythm. He plays my body like it’s an instrument he knows inside and out.

And when the pressure winds through my hip, wrapping around the base of my spine, I grip his head and pull his face tight against my pussy, grinding against him as I topple.

“Cade!” I call out, just like I promised him I would, as I come apart. Legs shaking. Toes curling. The arches of my feet cramp, and his movements just continue. He doesn’t stop too soon, like so many men do. He’s not eager to be done with the foreplay. This isn’t a chore for him, and I think that might be the sexiest thing about it.

I smile up at the smooth white ceiling, cast in a golden tone from the glow of the lamp, and feel my limbs go soft. And with that rush of pleasure comes a rush of protectiveness. A rush of rage that someone could wound him so profoundly. That someone could stray the way his ex did.

The resistance. The jealousy. The longing looks. The solitary way he lives his life. It all makes so much more sense now.

And I have every intention of showing him how badly I want him.

Pushing myself up, I rake my fingers through his hair, feeling his heavy breathing against my damp skin as I cup my hands around the base of his skull and pull his head up to mine. I link my eyes with his, staring hard into them as my thumbs stroke through the stubble along his chiseled cheeks.

“Thank you,” I say simply.

And then I kiss him. I can taste myself on him, but I don’t care. All I care about is that he knows I appreciate him. Our tongues tangle and his calloused palms dance over my ribs, somehow making me shiver and my core stir, even though I just finished.

Correction: even though he just finished me.

“That was the best orgasm of my life,” I murmur against his wet lips, drawing a chuckle from his chest. “Now lose the pants and lie back on the bed. I want to repay the favor.”

His lips trail against my cheek. “You think you’re in charge now, Willa? That’s adorable.”

“Lose the pants, mister.” I use a fake authoritative voice and return his kisses all the way over his stubbled cheek to his ear, where I nip playfully at the lobe.

He huffs out a breath but pushes to stand, fingers working expertly at his jeans, corded forearms rippling. I absently wonder why I was so hung up on his grumpy face when he has a body like this and a sweet, authoritative, doting personality. What the hell was I even on about? I can’t remember.

“What are you thinking about right now?” he asks as he shucks his jeans down, impressive cock tenting his underwear. I almost forgot how big it is and that I choked like an amateur when he thrusted hard into my mouth.

“How hot you are. How insane your body is. How sweet you are.” When I rip my eyes away from his cock, his eyebrow arches at me as I add, “I think the words you’re searching for are, Thank you, baby.”

He pulls his boxers down with a smirk, clearly not self-conscious about his body. “You like it when I call you baby?”

I roll my lips together as I regard him. I fucking love it. It sounds so lame and cheesy to me most of the time, but when he growls it and tacks something filthy on to it? “Yes. I love it.”

He moves around me, and I turn to check out his round muscled ass—Wranglers hold nothing to the real thing. Every part of his body is bound with strength, and not the type you get from too many hours in the gym. His muscles are real, thick and hard but not overly defined.

His body, his skin, the crinkles around his eyes . . . it’s all just proof of long hours spent hard at work. And I’m not sure I’ve ever found anything more attractive than a man who works hard.

He sits on the bed and turns, back pressed up against the headboard, chest puffed, long legs stretched out before him like a king.

His fist wraps around his thick cock, and he jerks it a few times. I lick my lips as I watch him, entranced. I think I could happily watch him come just like this.

His gaze heats on mine when he catches me staring. “Get over here and ride my cock, baby.”

He doesn’t need to ask me twice. I turn and crawl up the bed, trailing my hands over the smattering of hair on his chest as I hike one leg over his waist, straddling him while his hands settle on my hips. I feel the steely length of his cock resting against my bare ass, and I give a little wiggle, moving my hips and feeling his hardness slide over me.

Cade shoots one hand up to my chin, pressing a quick kiss next to my lips. “If you want me to fuck your ass, all you have to do is ask.”

I prop my hands against his chest, fingers curling in at his crude words. “You’d probably make me beg for it.”

He laughs, deep and raspy, and I feel the vibration of it under my palms. For a man who avoided laughing around me for so long, I can actually feel him laughing.

His smile is a shot straight to the heart. “Probably,” he replies easily, before kissing me again. “Now take my cock and put it in. I want to watch you.”

“Jesus Christ, Eaton. I’m going to be stuck in a permanent state of blushing after getting naked with you.” I reach behind myself, running my hand over his length, feeling how wet I am seated across his abdomen, legs spread wide.

He huffs out a breath, thumbs brushing the silver studs on my nipples. I can tell by the way he groans he likes them. A lot. “Works for me, Red. You should see how pretty you look with your cheeks all pink. These perfect tits out. If you don’t get to work, I’m going to blow on your back rather than inside you.”

“Fuck.” My tongue darts out over my bottom lip, followed by a graze of my teeth. I push up onto my knees.

With one hand propped on his round shoulder, I reach down between us, wrapping my fingers around his throbbing length. When I notch the head of him against my entrance, we groan in unison.

It’s this moment where everything feels inevitable. It’s the anticipation that’s almost as good as the real thing. I can feel the dome of his head, just slightly inside of me. It’s going to be a tight fit, so before I let go, I run him against my wetness, swiping up and down, pressing him against my aching clit.

“Jesus Christ, Red. Are you trying to kill me?”

“No. I’m trying to make sure it will fit.” My eyes are still down, watching the way his cock comes away glistening.

“Baby, it’s going to fit. You were made for me.”

My eyes shoot up to his, but that’s right when his hips thrust up and he’s sinking into me right as I’m sliding down on him. I grip his forearms desperately. The feeling of fullness and not knowing how to respond to that comment draw my eyes back down, and we watch as my body stretches to take him.

“Look at you, Willa. You take me so well,” he grits out, voice sounding strained and gravelly.

I moan, feeling the way our bodies throb together. Skin on skin. My hands slide up to his shoulders as I push down the last couple of inches, taking his full length inside of me.

Cade sits up taller to press a kiss to the center of my chest, hands moving around my body to grip the globes of my ass. “Fuck, you feel like heaven. So hot and tight. Just for me.”

Just for me. My heart aches, and my arms wrap around his neck. I kiss the top of his head. This strong, stoic, honest, hardworking man—one whose hurt runs so deep that he’s lived several years questioning his worth. His value.

I hate it. I hate it for him. So, I rock my hips on him, hug him to my chest and say, “Just for you.” My nails graze over his shoulders and down his strong back. I bite on his ear again and nuzzle my cheek against his stubble. I love the feel of it rasping over my skin in perfect tandem with the rough pads of his fingers.

I lift and drop down, taking his full length in one go and hissing against his cheek at the slight burn. “Just for you,” I whisper again.

And I think I mean it.

Who the fuck knows what I’m doing? I’m positive that I don’t. Or I don’t most days. I go with the flow. I take my opportunities.

And God, an opportunity has never felt this right, so I don’t question it. I don’t overthink it. I give myself over to it.

To him.

I pull his head up to me and kiss him like it’s our last moment on earth. The energy in the small bedroom changes. What started off as rough and turned playful, has morphed into something more sensitive. But now we’re more frantic.

Our hands roam. He grips my ass, lifting me and pushing me back down. My legs shake and my head tips back. His beard scrapes across my chest. His lips work my nipples. My hands tug his hair.

We don’t talk.

But we don’t need to. Our bodies do the talking. Our kisses are wet, and messy, and perfectly imperfect.

“Cade,” I whimper, as wet slapping noises fill the room, followed by his animalistic grunts. My tits are bouncing. His eyes are glassy. “I think I’m going to . . .” I trail off, hot and breathless and totally out of control. Utterly consumed. But he knows what I’m trying to say. He knows what I need. What I want.

One hand splays over my stomach, and his fingers swipe over my bud. “Come for me, baby,” he pants.

“Yes,” I hiss. “Please don’t stop.”

“Never,” is his response. And it sets me off, the surety of it striking something in me that causes an eruption.

“Cade!” I scream his name this time. I don’t just call it. I let loose, and god, it feels incredible.

We’re a tangle of moans and taut muscles. His fingers keep moving, but his hand lands on my shoulder and clamps me onto his body as his cock surges, twitching and throbbing.

He spills himself inside me as he whispers my name against my lips, and there’s something intensely personal about it. I’m trying to catch my breath. I told him I’d say thank you, and I want to keep all my promises to him. He’s seen too many broken ones in his life.

He crushes me to him in the wake of our orgasms. It feels like he wraps his entire body around me. I nuzzle in closer, with him still inside me, damp chest against my cheek, steely arms clutching me around my back.

I open my lips to say the words he wanted.

But it’s him who drops his cheek against my head and rasps, “Thank you.”