I slip my fingers into her wet cunt and I watch as goose bumps erupt on her flesh. “God yes,” she whispers. I rub my index and middle finger over her clit, back and forth, inching my way closer to her opening. I drop my lips from her cheek and move to her neck, nibbling on the sweet skin before I bite down on her shoulder gently just as I push two fingers inside of her while stimulating her clit with my thumb.

“Right there, JP.”

So, tonight is going to be like that then. Whenever she calls me JP it’s usually only a few more minutes until she starts calling me Daddy.

“Oh, is my princess feeling needier than usual?”

She nods and then she does something that shocks me. She pulls my fingers out of her and spins around so that she’s kneeling between my legs. She’s still holding my hand that was just inside of her. She looks at my fingers that are wet with her juices before pushing them toward my mouth. I take a second to inhale her scent, my cock going to granite in the memory of her. I suck them eagerly and my senses are reminded of her tangy, sweet flavor that used to be my favorite thing to have on my tongue. She pulls her fingers from my mouth and a smile so sweet and sexy crosses her face that for a moment, I’m lost in her smile and those eyes.

“You know what I think about… often?” she asks me and I shift, trying to relieve some tension in my dick because I already know it’s going to be something to make me even harder.

“That first night…” She trails off. “Dry humping on my parents’ couch while they were asleep upstairs.”

“You mean the night you seduced me?” I chuckle, because that’s exactly what happened. The night I became absolutely powerless against Whitney Monroe.

Five Years Ago:

It had been a month since I’d been back in the States and I was settling back into my old life. Which basically consisted of the hospital and then Kevin and Michelle’s and sporadic visits to see my mother. Then one night, I’d drank a little too much with Kevin after a Lakers playoff game went into double overtime so I planned to stay the night. I’ve stayed over so frequently that the “guest room” is basically just my room that “guests” use when I’m not there. I’d fallen asleep on the couch my guess when the post-game show was on because when I wake up, the television is on but most of the lights are out and there’s a bottle of water in front of me.

Thank you, Michelle. I think to myself.