Daddy's Worst Nightmare

My God, my God, my God, this is what heaven tastes like.

She’s sugar and vanilla and musk and I’m never getting enough.

The seat rocks underneath us from the force of me humping the bench, and that swaying motion brings her up and back against my mouth. She’s sobbing, trying to lock her thighs around my head, but my hands keep knocking her knees wide, my mouth keeps diving deeper, sucking on her inner thighs, motorboating her swelling bud, giving her thorough licks of my tongue, asshole to clit and back for more.

“Tasty little girl, aren’t you?” I growl, wedging my tongue partway into her entrance and jiggling it, listening to her breath catch, her hands grabbing fistfuls of my hair.

“Damian. What…what is happening? I feel like I’m going to burst.”

I can’t stop to explain it to her. She tastes too good. My lower body is slamming into the seat now and I pretend she’s face down on the front lawn of our estate. Her hair is wound around my fist and I’m showing her everything I’ve toiled for, just so I could give it to her one day. And she’s opening her legs in lust, in love, in gratitude, eager for the pleasure only I know how to give her right. Jesus yes.

Now, her pussy starts to spasm around the tip of my tongue and she makes a sexy mewling noise, her hips lifting off the seat. “Oh my goodness,” she moans.

“Come on, sweetheart,” I groan, worrying her clit with the pad of my thumb. “Let me carry you over the threshold of our home for the first time with your come all over my chin. Let me carry you inside looking like you just got drilled.”

Her body seizes and she screams, a shocked, euphoric sound that I want to hear every second for the rest of my life. Her cream sluices out and I lap at the source with my tongue while squeezing her taut little ass cheeks in my hands. I rub my nose side to side against her clit, then slowly suction my lips over the top of it, suckling gently and pushing her into a deeper orgasm, turning her scream to a hoarse chant of my name.

Everything I dreamed she would be…has far been surpassed.

There are parts of being with Arya I didn’t know enough to imagine. The silkiness of her inner thighs on my cheeks, the way she reaches for me like I’m the cure for everything. The addictiveness of her whimpers. Even her come is exquisite—and it’s all mine. I’m the only one who will ever experience the warm rush of this girl on his tongue.

My lower abdomen twists violently with the need for release, but I push my own need to the side and pull Arya up into my lap sideways, tucking her head beneath my chin. She pants, her eyes unfocused, and I kiss her mouth over and over again, telling her I love her.

“Damian, that was…that was…the best thing I’ve ever, ever felt.” Her head lolls against my shoulder, a smile playing around her lips. “Do you…get to feel like that?” she says shakily, testing my erection with a twist of her butt in my lap. “Do you, Damian?”

“Yes, sweetheart,” I say hoarsely, stilling her hips with a firm hand. “You’re going to do things to make me feel that good. Frequently. You’re going to wrap your pretty mouth around my big bad cock so often, it’s going to taste like home. You’re going to ride it, get ridden, get it up your tight ass and no matter what I do, you’re going to cry for me to go harder.” She looks up at me with lust banking in her brown eyes. “But not until you’re ready. Until then, I’ll find a way to take care of…” I blow out a breath when yet another wave of hunger slams into me. “I’ll find a way to handle it.”

In hindsight, I’ll have wished I’d chosen my words more carefully.

4

Arya

I wake up in the middle of an unfamiliar bed, more boneless and comfortable than I have ever been in my life. There is a mirror on the ceiling and my reflection is unrecognizable. I’m naked and my dark hair is spread out around me in disarray. Red marks decorate my neck and throat and shoulders. Are they the result of Damian sucking on me?

The last thing I remember is falling asleep in his arms in the back of the SUV, his stiffness wedged between the cheeks of my backside. He was in pain. Somehow I sensed that, but I didn’t know how to free him of it. Nor did he seem inclined to explain it to me, shushing me with hard kisses every time I asked.

My fingertips trail up and over my sensitive nipples. I gasp when there’s a corresponding tug between my thighs. Have those two body parts always been connected? I once found a big floppy toy in my mother’s sock drawer and wondered what she used it for. After Damian’s explanation, now I know. She put it inside herself to simulate…sex. And in doing so, she must have experienced that same mighty tide of relief Damian gave me with his mouth. Otherwise, why would she do it?