Claimed By My Ex Boyfriend's Dad

The man, Shark, stares at me like he's one inch away from devouring me. The cigar between his lips puffs out tiny smoke that wafts over my face. The nicotine clouds my lungs.

I twirl my hips over his toned thighs. Energy pulsates from his body. It seeps into mine like the possessive fists of a lover. It clenches my core.

The music pounds, all brass and bass, and I rock myself on him, pretending to own the moment, but in truth, Shark owns it.

He hasn't touched me yet, but I'm already combusting at the seams, dripping like a waterfall.

My nose clogs with trapped breath.

I bring my fingers up and graze the air near his sharp jaw. When I try to pull my hand away, Shark grabs it.

A gasp wrenches from my mouth, and I flick my eyes at him, lashes fluttering.

Gently, he pulls the cigar from his lips.

He puffs out a string of thick, gray smoke, crashing over my face and thickening the tension between us.

My chest heaves.

"Touch it, little flame,"

That gruff voice again. It has to be an energy booster.

A smile curls my lip. I don't speak, but I do as he says, curling my fingers over his beard.

It's spiky but silky. I've never loved a beard before. I liked how Liam's was shaved, but with this man here, old enough to be my father, the beard has become a tick I can't unlearn.

Every sweep of my fingers over the spiky, silky salt and pepper hairs rewrites something in me. Like this is going to be my new obsession.

Shark growls low in his throat.

He pulls the ashtray on the coffee table close and stubs out the cigar.

Attention back on me, he grins.

"Those little fingers are stirring me up, little flame," His voice dips.

My fingers roam away from his chin, down to the base of his neck.

I don't stop rolling my hips. The pace falls in rhythm with the music in the club.

My pussy wets more, weeping and soaking the net panties.

I peer at Shark, a lazy smile covering my lips.

Rocking against him, I roll my fingers down his powerful chest.

The taut muscles yield under my touch. I feel them pulse alongside his heart rate.

He growls again. A puff of steamed breath comes out of his nose and parted lips, thanks to the cigar.

The scent blends with his cologne. So masculine. So powerful.

My heart beats.

"I like how you touch me, little flame," He says, his hand going into my hair.

I don't respond with words, only my hands.

I slide them down his torso, loving how he bucks, like I've set him on fire.

"So innocently. Like you don't mean to tempt me,"

Oh, but I do, I think to myself.

I want to tempt him like he's tempting me without even trying.

"It takes a lot of effort for women to stir me, little flame," He says, tugging at my hair hard to assert his dominance, but he's cautious enough not to make it hurt.

He angles my head, tilts close, and licks his tongue over the column of my neck.

Chills skitter down my body. The hot sweep of his tongue over my skin makes my blood boil with hunger.

I moan, soft at first, but it slowly becomes unguarded. Wild.

God, his tongue is unraveling me.

My hips twitch over him, losing their rhythm with the music.

My fingers cling to his shirt. I arch my back, giving him access to lick his way down my chest.

"I love how you moan, little flame," He purrs, placing a kiss over the right side of my chest. His lips miss the mound of my breast by an inch. "So wild. It says what your mouth refuses to voice out,"

No, I can't talk. I don't know why, but I want to deny him the privilege to hear my voice. I guess the need to protect my identity is firm.

All I can do is moan.

The heat flares inside me. I peer over at him, seeing how he's greedily watching my nipples.

The sweep of his eyes alone sparks something in me. Hunger. Want.

I suddenly burn with the desire to have those perfect lips wrapped around my nipples.

Shark is staring at them, like he's cataloging them in his mind. As if he doesn't want to forget how they look.

I'm surprised the whole tension hasn't paused my rocking hip because my heart has stopped beating for a moment there.

I swallow past the clog in my mouth, letting my fingers drift into his quiffed salt and pepper hair.

He's so hot I want to call him zaddy. Only I can't talk. I don't want to give him that luxury.

"I love how your tits look..."

I expected him to feast on them, but Shark only kissed through the valley of my breasts, heading down to my torso.

He arches my back; it's a miracle I don't break in two.

My body flares with awareness at what he's doing.

He's taking in the scent of my cleft.

Sweet Jesus.

Who does that?

No one except Shark.

Who the hell is this man?

By some twisted pleasure, I rock my waist up, silently giving him permission to smell more of me.

He groans, the vibrations ghosting over my body.

He throws his head back, slowly inhaling like he sniffed coke.

His shoulders vibrate. The energy crackles and flares. He brings his eyes down at me, his blue depth shining like he's possessed.

"You smell so good, Little flame. So addicting. I bet you'll taste yummy too."

I shiver as he runs his finger down my torso. His lips meet the skin, kissing me along the harnesses.

It makes me cry out. I shove my body over his, my hips continuing to rock against him again. I remember my moves back when I was into ballet dance, and I incorporate them here.

My upper body bends backward, I jut my hips to his face.

"Ohh,"

Another moan flies out when his breath ghosts over my cleft.

Yes, I want to scream out loud, but I keep it trapped.

The thought of Shark trying to kiss me there makes me go wild.

I rock against his face recklessly, giving him the chance to take me.

I've never been this wet before. To the extent that I'm now dripping onto his thighs.

"You've made a mess on my slacks, little flame," He says, pulling up enough so I can look at him. A coy smile plays on his lips.

A purr of protest escapes me. I want to bend over again just to have him place a kiss on my sex.

Liam has never done it to me before. I always feel embarrassed by the idea of him kissing there. Probably because he said he'd never go down on a woman, and he doesn't like sniffing a woman's musk.

Now that I think about it, was it him hating sniffing and going down on women, or did he hate to go down on me?

But seeing the satisfaction on Shark's face just from sniffing me, it makes me want to know what it feels like to have a man kiss me there. It boosts my self-esteem.

However, Shark denies me that experiment.

From his chuckle, I know he's aware of what I want.

He wants to make me beg.

He makes me rise back on my feet. I feel my nectar drip down my thighs.

I don't protest much because he paid for this service. His pleasure against mine first.

"See how you've soiled my slacks, little flame? Your pretty little pussy is such a humidifier," He gestures to his slacks. I see the wet map of my essence left on his black slacks. "Doesn't look so good, does it, little flame?"

I shake my head.

"Word," he commands, staring up at me.

He's seated, but he still reaches my shoulder from this position.

"No, sir," I dip my voice a bit, not wanting him to know my real voice.

He grins, brow twitching. He leans in, raises his hand to my lips. His fingers sensually, slowly brush over my lips. The matte black lipstick staining his fingers.

"It's daddy to you, little flame,"

I puff hard breaths, his hands sweeping over my chest. "Daddy,"

I taste the word on my lips and swallow. It tastes rich and sounds dominant like him.

"Good. Now..." Shark reclines over the sofa, hands on the headrest. His hips shift forward, legs spread, trapping me in them.

I can feel the jut of his boner through his slacks.

Eyes on me, he commanded, "Be a good girl and clean the mess you made, little flame."

I know what he wants. And I've never done it before.

I should refuse, draw the line here, but desire blooms in my tongue, and I slowly go down to my knees between his legs.

Looking at him through my lashes, I slip out my tongue and start tracing it over his slacks up to the wet map I indented on his slacks.

Shark growls, head thrown back.