Yet he didn't pull away.

His hand hovered there, nearly touching the luscious mound. His eyes staring at it. His vision was filled by its creamy flesh and pert form, watching it subtly rise and fall with her breathing.

Then it was in his hand.

His fingers closed around the firm mound, cupping it tenderly. An intense, primal hunger stirred somewhere deep inside him. His fingers gently squeezed.

A quiet sigh rose from Missy.

Tom froze, this time with fear rather than shock. His eyes darted to his daughter's face, expecting to find her staring up at him accusingly. His mind raced in search of some explanation for him to...