The Boss's Runaway

She whines as I start to eat her out, sucking in stuttered breaths and wiggling her hips restlessly. “I…I n-never saw this on the farm,” she stutters, finally opening her thighs wider for it. Accepting that it’s happening and that she likes it. Likes my tongue on her sensitive pink pearl, licking it all over and pursing my lips against it, sending vibrations through it and feeling it swell up, listening to her whine and thread her fingers through my hair, pulling me closer to the place I never want to leave—the notch between her heavenly thighs. “Daddy. Please. Daddy.”

I groan into my next lick, overcome by the power granted to me by that title.

I’m tonguing my little girl’s pussy, making her wild. Making myself wild.

And I don’t stop until I’ve pulled her trigger, sugary wetness seeping out all over my mouth and chin, drenching my beard. Wracking me with lust so intense, I don’t know myself anymore. I don’t know who I am as I lick her through the orgasm and stand up to remove my tie. “Want to feel those perky-ass tits drag up and down my chest while I’m banging you,” I growl, ripping off the tie, followed by my shirt.

Dazed and gorgeous, she sits up to watch me, her eyes widening over my big, curved cock where it hangs hard and heavy through the opening of my zipper. She gulps, her gaze skittering sideways to the pile of liquor bottles. “Isn’t liquor supposed to dull pain?”

Before I can guess what she’s planning, Sissy reaches for a mini bottle of tequila, twists off the cap and drains it, looking surprised at herself.

That makes two of us. “You’re not twenty-one, Sissy, dammit. I shouldn’t have let you drink that.” My voice is growing more and more unrecognizable. Deep and abrasive. “Add it to my list of sins, I guess,” I say. Finally bare chested, I climb back on the bed, picking Sissy up with a forearm and dragging her beneath me toward the headboard. “I’m going to put my cock in that sinnin’ hole now.” My voice is guttural and I’m jacking myself off right above her sopping wet sex. “You understand we might make a baby?”

She bites her lip and nods. And I can see the alcohol has had a calming effect. Gone are the nerves I spied a moment before. They rush back to the fore when I wedge the pulsing head of my cock against her entrance, her breathing coming in harsh pants. “I want you so bad. I’m just worried about the pain.”

Knowing it’s wrong, so wrong, I balance my weight on one elbow and pick up another liquor bottle, using my teeth to open it. Then I pour the contents into her mouth. Wrong. Bad. I’m getting a nineteen-year-old runaway drunk on tequila and fucking her in a hotel room. There is no end to my depravity, is there?

I’m at the point of no return, though. As soon as she swallows the golden substance, I fist my cock and work it deeper, deeper, into the snuggest space I could ever imagine. It’s hot and slick and tighter than the center of a bolt. “Oh my God,” I breathe, angling my hips for that first pump and delivering it slowly, but forcefully at the same time. Grinding down hard when I bottom out. Can’t help it. I hear her whimper, but my ears are ringing, too, my dick the consistency of iron. Is she real? Is she? “Oh fuck, you’re a miracle.” I seal my mouth over the top of hers, pressing her lips wide to give her my tongue, working it in and out, trying to stop the tremors coursing through her petite frame. “My cock hurting you, honey?”

“A little.” Her pussy flexes around me and I see stars. “Mostly it feels good.”

Don’t come. Don’t come. I’m breathing hard against her mouth like a maniac, my hips giving firm mini pumps to stretch her out, get her used to me. “That’s a good girl,” I whisper in between kisses. “That’s my sweet pumpkin.”

There’s a flicker of burgeoning wickedness in her eyes and she moans, her hands trailing down and up my back, spearing into my hair—and God almighty, she begins to rock her hips, looking up at me eagerly, as if seeking approval. “Daddy likes that,” I grit out. “Don’t stop.”

“I won’t,” she says, her breath hitching, our bodies finding a rhythm now.

One that makes her nails dig into my back, her eyes losing focus. Fuck yes.

I’m getting ready to drop my weight onto her, yank up those legs and thrust until my balls give up the fight, but a pounding starts on the door of the hotel room.

Sissy and I exchange a dazed look. “Who is that?” she whispers.

“I don’t know.”

“It’s not the police, is it?” she says, clinging to my shoulders.