Sugar Dusted Dad Bod (Dad Bod Christmas)

6. Jasper

Six

Jasper

I f Elvis threw the break room door open and marched in with an army of trumpet-playing piglets, I would not be surprised right now. Because surely this is a dream. Surely Cady didn’t really just drop to her knees and suck me like an angel; surely my assistant baker isn’t really half naked in my lap right now. Her lips are swollen and shiny, and her auburn hair’s fraying out of her two little braids.

So I must be dreaming. There’s no way I’d ever get this lucky.

Except… well, her wriggly little ass pressing against my lap sure feels real. The heat of her, the coconut sugar scent of Cady’s skin, the scratch in her voice when she says: “You’d better.” That’s all real.

My heart lurches when I cup her cheek and she lets me. Cady blinks those sweet brown eyes up at me, so hopeful for a kiss, and Christ. I’ll never deserve her.

I bend my head, heart thumping. Our mouths brush—gently at first, then hungrier, deeper. When our tongues meet, I taste my own salty musk, and my still-rigid shaft twitches against her hip.

God damn.

How long have I wanted this girl? How many nights have I laid awake in my bed, lonely and self-loathing, refusing to let myself touch below the waist because that’s not what a good boss would do?

Now here I am, Cady panting in my lap, her hands buried in my hair as she sucks on my tongue. Funny how things work out. And I’d be second-guessing everything, calling myself a creep, except Cady’s been driving this bus from the start. She’s the one who dropped to her knees. She’s the one who got sad over that mistletoe when I didn’t ask for a kiss.

So maybe it’s time to trust her. Maybe it’s time to let myself believe that Cady’s a grown woman who knows what she wants.

Maybe it’s time to accept this isn’t a dream.

“Can I—?”

My hand slides between Cady’s warm, soft thighs and creeps toward her damp core. She moans and nods, peppering desperate kisses all over my face.

Well, then.

And… Cady’s wetter than a slip-n-slide down here. Swollen and slick and needy as hell, with her whole body trembling when my fingertips brush through her damp curls to find her slit. Her back arches, and she moans like a demon when I rub the tight nub of nerves.

“I’ve got you.” My words are pressed into her neck as Cady pants in my ear. “I’ve got you. Feel this?” My pointer finger sweeps along her slit, gliding like an ice skater on a pond. “You’re so wet, baby. You really want this, don’t you?”

Her laugh is strangled. “Uh-huh.”

“I’ve wanted it too.” My fingertip circles her entrance. Cady’s arms tighten around my neck. “Ever since the first day I laid eyes on you, I’ve wanted it. You’re so goddamn perfect, Cady.”

When I push inside her to the first knuckle, we both tense up—then gust out twin sighs as her body relaxes for me. Yes. Finally.

“K-keep going.” Cady’s flushed face is buried in my neck, but her hips roll, coaxing my finger deeper. “Jasper, keep going.”

No fear.

I work my way inside steadily, pumping one knuckle deeper at a time, my finger slick and shining in the candlelight. And Cady urges me on with helpless moans and breathless little cries, before begging me to add a second finger.

I do it.

Of course I do it.

I add a second finger, and I work my girl with them both, all the while rubbing her clit with my thumb. There’s no better feeling in the world than the sensation of Cady’s tight channel gripping me; no greater satisfaction than hearing her breath get heavy and her words slur.

She comes on my fingers, back arched and her stomach muscles shuddering. Cady squeezes her eyes shut and tilts her head back to the ceiling—and when she finally floats back down to earth, when her body relaxes enough to slide my fingers out, I figure we’re done for the night. We’re done, and I’ll count myself the luckiest man on the planet. Maybe one day she’ll let me touch her again.

But Cady fixes me with those hazy brown eyes. “Wait,” she says, when I move to tuck myself away and buckle back up. “Don’t you want to…?”

Thud. Thud. My booming heartbeat is the loudest thing in this room.

Is she serious?

I shake my head. “Of course I want to. I haven’t lost my damn mind, Cady.”

Her relieved smile is like the sun shining through the clouds.

It takes some rearranging. Some logistics are required. At one point Cady huffs and leans forward, untying her boots with jerky tugs on the laces, before kicking them off with two muffled thumps. Then her leggings and panties follow, and she’s free to turn in my lap, her back to my front, her legs sprawling over my spread knees.

My assistant baker leans forward and yanks off her tunic and bra too, tossing them across the room for good measure. When she settles back against me, she’s not wearing a single stitch of fabric.

Hot damn.

I glance at the window. The snow’s still coming down thick out there, the swirling clouds of snowflakes enough to block the street’s view—thank god.

Don’t want anyone ever seeing Cady like this.

No one but me.

If we’re doing this… if we’re crossing this line… she really is mine.

And I can’t hold in my groan when I stroke both palms across Cady’s front, feeling her taut stomach, her heaving sides, the two little mounds of her tits. For a stolen moment, I wrap my arms around my girl and hug her close.

Mine. Mine.

“Jasper,” Cady whispers, pressing her ass back against my bare shaft. I’m harder than a steel bar with moisture weeping from the tip, and it smears against her lower back. “Do it. Do me. ”

She’ll never have to ask me twice.

I lift Cady easily, gripping by the hips, and line her up with my length. She gasps when she feels it brush her entrance, and her fingernails dig into my forearms.

“Ready?” I ask.

“ Yes. ”

I lower her down slowly. Partly to give her a chance to adjust to my girth, partly to catch my own breath and keep from spilling too soon. Because I’ve been craving this for years, and Cady is tight and hot and slick, and Christ, she’s everything I imagined she’d be and more.

“Oh.” Cady sways back against my chest, resting her head on my shoulder. “Th-this feels…”

Her ass hits my lap again, but now I’m all the way inside her. Buried to the hilt in heaven. “Yeah.” Sweet tension buzzes in every nerve, right down to my back teeth. “It really does.”

Then I’m thrusting up and she’s rolling her hips, and we’re both cursing in the quiet break room. The nearest candle snuffs out from our breath, and the leather armchair creaks but holds strong, while pleasure crackles along my spine like wildfire.

It’s sweaty and awkward and clumsy at times, both of us needing a minute to find our rhythm. It’s clear that we’re both inexperienced at this; both learning as we go. But even when we move out of sync and clonk heads, even when we’re less than graceful, we still laugh and whisper to each other, thick as thieves.

We’re in this. Together.

Finally.

And when everything clicks into place, when we find our rhythm… it’s the best thing I’ve ever felt. Judging by Cady’s moans, she feels the same.

“Say you’re mine.” It’s a demand I never would have made in a thousand years, but I’m a different man now that my girl’s riding my cock and panting up at the ceiling. The little blissed out noises she keeps making—they’re rebuilding me from the foundations. I’m brand new. “Say you’re mine, Cady. Say you’ll come home with me after this blizzard and never leave.”

“Oh, god.” Her hips move faster at that, eager and rough, and it’s all I can do to hold onto her waist and keep thrusting, teeth clenched. “I’m yours,” Cady gasps, and another candle huffs out on the table. Shadows stretch through the break room, but it’s good. Primal. It suits the drumming war beat of my heart. “I’m yours for as long as you want me, Jasper.”

That’s an easy one. My face presses against the back of Cady’s neck, and I lick a drop of salty sweat off her skin before saying, “Forever. I’m never giving you up after this, you hear? Not ever, Cady. You’re mine. ”

Her moans get louder, my thrusts get sloppier, but we’re building to something now, climbing higher and higher together. There’s a knot winding tighter in my belly, and my balls draw up close to my body, heavy and full. Every thrust into Cady’s wet heat sends sparks raining across my skin.

“I love you,” Cady gasps out, and my rib cage cracks open. I’m decimated.

“I love you too,” I rasp, and it’s not enough. Even if I say it a thousand times per day for the rest of our lives, it will never be enough. She still won’t understand the depth of my feelings for her; the way she’s etched on my bones and twined around my DNA.

Still, it’s a start—and Cady cries out, arching her back, then slams down onto my lap as she comes and comes and comes.

She twitches and squirms. She pants and heaves.

And all the while, I clamp down on her hips and hold on for dear life, gritting my back teeth against the pressure building in my body.

Not until Cady finally slumps against me again, not until she’s done using me for her pleasure, do I finally let go with a relieved snarl. It’s agony, and then it’s bliss.

One, two, three long pumps inside her. My shaft swells and spurts, filling up Cady’s tight channel with my seed, emptying out my heart and soul, and I’ve never been a religious man but this is the closest to holy that I’ve ever felt.

It goes on and on. So long, I’d be embarrassed—except Cady sighs happily and wriggles her hips, screwing herself down even deeper to take it all in.

Hey. Give me a break—I’ve been pent up since the day I met this girl.

As my breath starts to slow, I soften inside her, and Cady turns around enough to kiss my bearded cheek.

“We should move,” I mutter, flushing at her kiss even after all that. “Get ourselves cleaned up.”

But Cady nuzzles my jaw, and I sink back deeper into the armchair, clutching her to my chest.

“In a minute,” she says.