Her First Time With Daddy

Chapter Eighteen

Ava’s POV

“I didn’t even notice it,” I said.

Corren turned fully toward me in the back seat of the Maybach. The privacy partition was already raised. The city moved past the tinted windows in a soft blur of glass and steel, but the inside of the car felt sealed off from everything else. His eyes moved over my face with slow, deliberate attention.

“You are lying to me,” he murmured.

“I swear I didn’t notice it.”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead he reached out and cupped my jaw, thumb resting just beneath my lower lip, holding my face steady so I had no choice but to meet his gaze. The air between us thickened. I could still smell his cologne, clean and expensive, mixed with the faint scent of the new clothes folded in bags at our feet.

Then he kissed me.

It was not soft. It was deep and controlled, his mouth claiming mine with the same quiet authority he brought to everything else. I made a small sound against his lips and he answered by angling my head further back, tongue sliding against mine until my fingers curled into the fabric of his jacket. The kiss went on long enough that my breathing turned uneven. When he finally broke it, my lips felt swollen.

He did not pull away far.

His hand left my face and moved down, finding the neckline of the cream dress. He tugged the soft fabric aside with practiced ease, exposing one breast to the cool air of the car. For a moment he only looked. Then he lowered his head and took my n****e into his mouth.

The heat of his tongue dragged a sharp breath from me. He sucked slowly, deliberately, the pressure firm enough to send sparks straight down my stomach. My back arched slightly against the leather seat. He switched to the other breast, peeling the dress further aside, and gave it the same focused attention—licking, sucking, scraping his teeth lightly until both n*****s were tight and aching. I bit down on my lower lip to stay quiet, but soft sounds still escaped.

His hand slid beneath the skirt of the dress.

I felt his palm move up my inner thigh, warm and certain. He pushed my underwear to the side without ceremony. One finger stroked through the wetness that had already gathered there, and a low sound of approval left his throat.

“Already like this,” he said against my skin.

He pressed that single finger inside me.

The stretch was slow and exact. He worked it in and out with steady control, watching my face the entire time. My hips shifted against the seat, trying to take more. He gave me more—adding a second finger, filling me thicker, curling both until he found the place that made my thighs tremble. The wet sound of his fingers moving inside me filled the quiet car. My hand gripped his forearm. My breathing turned short and broken.

He kept the pace deliberate. Not rushed. Not gentle. Each stroke of his fingers pushed the heat higher, spreading it through my stomach and down my legs until I was lifting my hips to meet him. My head fell back against the seat. I could feel how wet I had become by the easy slide of his fingers and the way my body clenched around them. The tension coiled tighter and tighter, every nerve focused on the exact way he touched me.

I was close—horny, open, desperate for him to keep going.

Then, without warning, he withdrew his hand.

The sudden emptiness made me gasp. Corren sat back against the seat, expression controlled, and calmly adjusted the neckline of my dress, covering my breasts again. He smoothed the skirt down over my thighs as if nothing had happened. My underwear remained displaced. The ache between my legs pulsed, sharp and unfinished.

The car began to slow.

Corren glanced out the window, then back at me. My face was flushed. My breathing had not yet steadied. He looked at the state he had left me in—wet, aching, visibly unsettled—and the corner of his mouth lifted by the smallest degree.

The Maybach came to a stop.

Without another word, he opened the door and stepped out of the car, leaving me alone in the back seat with the taste of his mouth still on my lips and the unbearable throb of what he had started still pulsing between my thighs.