Temp

“It’s okay.” She blinks her beautiful bedroom eyes up at me. “I think it was just…it was meant to be you.”

A hoarse sound escapes my chest.

I’ve spent so long abandoned, but she’s claiming me now.

I’m a pauper on the steps of a palace, unworthy of being allowed inside, but she’s taking me in, regardless. “Tell me I’m not hurting you.” The thought of her pain makes me see red, my shoulder muscles knitting together. “If I injure you I’ll kill myself, I swear to God.”

“You didn’t,” she murmurs, her hips beginning to rock beneath me. “Stop worrying and be here with me. I need you here with me.”

Five milking rides of her cunt and my balls begin to tighten. “My God.” I pin her down and begin to ride, to pump as carefully and slowly as I can, so I don’t ruin the magic she’s weaving. Not only with her snug, soaking sex that flexes and grips and ruins my dick with horny little strokes, but with her eyes. They capture mine and never leave, the universe pausing around us. Stopping dead in its tracks to witness two soulmates colliding. That’s what this is, isn’t it? She’s my fucking soul mate. “I’m never letting you go. I’m never, ever, letting you go. Don’t go anywhere. I’ve been lost, baby.”

“Me too,” she breathes, her palms smoothing down my back, branding me through my shirt. “It’s okay. Me too.”

I can’t believe either of us is wearing clothes. Emotionally, we’re stripped down to nothing and yet my balls ricochet between her wet pussy and my open zipper, faster and faster with her encouraging nods, the sharpening of her claws in my back, until we’re straight-up fucking, my hips drilling her against the edge of the chair, my hoarse bellows clashing with the sound of the rain. And underneath it all, Christ, is this little squeak her pussy makes every time I land balls deep. The friction of my cock bottoming out in her insane tightness elicits a tiny squeal. I’m a lunatic for that sound. Instantly. I bang away at it, panting, sweat soaking through my shirt while she whines and opens her thighs wider for my abuse. My abuse. That’s what it is. I’m devouring her. Biting her neck and throat and dominating her smaller body. But she only screams for more. And I give it until her heels dig into my ass and that pussy cinches up like a belt, blinding me with acute pleasure.

“If anyone ever finds out what you’ve got between these legs, I’m fucked. We’ll have to go into hiding, baby, it’s so motherfucking tight. I’m coming in it now. I’m the one who comes in it, starting now until forever.” I am rampaging, hips blurring, flesh smacking, seed burning up the trunk of my cock to the place it belongs. Where it will always belong. “Oh baby, baby, feels like I’ve never come before in my life. So good. So good. So good.”

“Daddy,” she breathes against my mouth, tits shuddering, complexion rosy. Flushed. Goddess. “You’re my Daddy now.”

Does she have father issues? Yes.

Am I here to solve them? No. I’m here to bask in every piece of her. Good or bad.

I’m here to make her feel right, because she is. She’s perfect.

“That’s right. That’s who I am. That’s who you breathe for,” I growl, our foreheads meeting, my loins convulsing, lower back muscles pulled tighter than violin strings. She’s wrecking me. The pleasure is verging on too intense. Jesus. Christ. “That’s whose cock you sit on. Period. The end.”

She nods, seemingly awed by how long I’ve been ejaculating. She’s not alone. Every time I think the well has run dry, another spurt wrings free, adding to the overflow of her sex, ruining the chair beneath her ass, caking her thighs with come. And that pussy keeps on making that squeak sound. How am I supposed to stop when it doesn’t stop? I’m going to hear it in my sleep, throughout my day, for the rest of my life, aren’t I?

Finally, I collapse on top of her sweet body with a groan. I’m…changed. Somehow I’m not the same person who walked into this dollhouse studio. I need her close. Close. Attached to me, if possible. But I settle for pulling her down off the chair into my lap and encircling her with my arms. Holding her tight and kissing her hairline, whispering words I never thought would leave my mouth. Loving words. Promises to protect someone, something besides my own interests. Across the room, my propped-up phone mocks me, roasts my conscience alive. But I console myself with the fact that no one—no one—will ever see the video.

I should lay all of my cards on the table right now. How can I do anything else when I’ve just had the most raw and honest experience of my life?