Daddy's Girl by Barbara Bretton

Author:Barbara Bretton
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Barbara Bretton

Her breasts were soft against his chest. He could feel her heart beating rapidly against his. With her forehead resting against his shoulder, he was ten feet tall.

Had music ever sounded as sweet?

Had dancing ever held such erotic promise?

Johnny Mathis segued into early Frank Sinatra. It didn't matter who was singing. He could only hear the way his blood pulsed through his veins.

He drew her closer to him. She was warm and pliant in his arms.

And he was ready.

"Jeannie."

His voice reached into her heart. She raised her eyes.

"I'm going to kiss you, Jeannie."

"Of course you are." That kiss had been between them for days now. For a lifetime.

His hand moved from her shoulder, to the side of her neck, then trailed upward. He cupped her chin, running his thumb lightly across the line of her jaw. She had a fierce, primitive urge to draw his finger into her mouth and run her tongue across the sensitive ridge of flesh at his fingertip.

Slowly he lowered his head, bringing his mouth closer, closer to hers, until their lips met. He traced their fullness with his tongue, and then swept along her teeth before entering her mouth. She gasped--it had been so long and the invasion was so hot, so sweet, the hunger so deep that it took her to a place she'd all but forgotten.

Teasing.

Tempting.

The kiss deepened until they were both left shaken and aching for more.

"The couch," said Jeannie, her fingers fumbling with the buttons on his shirt.

"Too small," he said, cupping her breasts. "Your room."

"Can't." She bared his chest then pressed her lips against his skin. "Daisy."

She started to suggest his room when he dropped to his knees in front of her. Involuntarily she stepped back, but he caught her behind the knees and drew her closer and closer until the heat of his breath burned against the tops of her thighs.

His hands were large and strong, his fingers questing. Inch by devastating inch his fingers moved their way under her skirt, sliding up the length of her stockings until he found the snaps of her black lace garter belt.

His laugh was low, thrilling.

She felt as if the world was spinning wildly on its axis and she gripped his shoulders in a desperate attempt to maintain her balance against this sensual onslaught. Her skirt was a froth of lace around her hips as his mouth found the soft skin of her thighs above the black silk stockings. She reached down to help him unsnap the garters but he caught her hand and held it fast.

"No," he said, his voice a delicious rumble. "Keep it on."

"But--"

Words died. He found her center with his mouth, his lips hot and wet against the fragile silk of her panties. She heard herself cry out when the fabric tore in his hands, that last barrier between them falling away as if it had never existed.

"Not yet," he whispered against her skin. "Not this way."

He rose to his feet and in the blink of an eye

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