Surprise Daddy

I try to take it, just like he wants, but it’s overwhelming.

Marshal’s hands on my thighs, holding me open. Frantic licks dive-bombing my aching cunt, pulling me open a little more each time. He’s sucking, tasting, owning me from the inside-out.

Mercy.

I don’t even try to last.

My hands grip the pillows above my head for dear life as I collapse on the bed, ass up and at his mercy. Snarling, he pulls on my legs again, making me the world’s most pampered prisoner to his tongue.

My clit burns, swells, and ignites.

Then it’s all just fire. So much more than the first time.

My blood becomes a cocktail bent on vicious ecstasy. Chemicals churn in my veins, hit my lower belly, join the heat and give themselves over to the expert chemist’s tongue. With just the right pressure, Marshal pulls my tiny, pulsing nub into his teeth and strokes like it’s his last time.

Because hell, maybe it will be. And if tonight is the only night I’m destined to enjoy the Castoff’s fuck-genius, I want to come harder than I ever thought possible.

My appetite hasn’t softened a bit for his cock. The latest O he laps into my body, leaving me breathless, offers relief.

It’s fleeting. By the time I’m able to tilt my face on the pillow to replenish my spent lungs, the need surges in my pussy again.

It’s madness, but it’s real. Probably medically unhealthy, too, and there’s only one cure.

His hand slides into mine from behind. “Turn, Sadie. Spread those legs and get the fuck ready.”

Helping me, pushing his massive body between my legs, reaching across the side of the bed. The drawer to his homemade nightstand rips open so hard it slams against wood.

My eyes focus through the darkness, just in time to see him tearing open foil with his teeth. The condom hangs in his fingers like a portal to another world. He grabs my hand, guiding it to the rubbery sheath, and then to his cock, fuller than ever and leaking pre-come.

It slides on with a pleasant tightness. Then I’m falling gently, legs open and under him. Finally ready.

“Breathe for me, darling,” he growls, placing his hand gently on my throat. The head of his cock presses closer to my entrance. “Look here. Give me your eyes when I take your cherry.”

Oh, God.

He’s taking so much more than my virginity. I’m delirious.

My hands go flush to his big, powerful arms. Then he’s moving in, hips pushing hard, the head of his cock forcefully taking, filling, staking its claim.

My pussy burns. Something soft and faint gives way. There’s a second of pain, and then a little more as my walls fight to take him in all his pierced wonder. But it works because I was made for it.

In this weird, sensual I-can’t-believe-I’m-actually-fucking-Marshal moment, I think I was custom made for him.

Marshal grunts when his cock pushes in to the hilt. His balls rest against my ass, warm and full, God only knows how many pumps away from giving up their fire. Holding his position, his hand takes my breast, and my nipple throbs in his fingers as he smothers me in a kiss.

“Fuck me, Red. Throw your little hips into mine. Yeah, darling, just like that.” A satisfied groan melts into another kiss.

I listen, and we’re off.

Losing our minds. Fusing our bodies. Matching pulses.

My senses shut down. I lift my legs higher, fighting through the early discomfort, the burn. Pleasure rewards me a little more with every thrust. And then a lot when I’m able to push my hips into his.

My whimpers get more shrill by the second, drowning out the soft creak of the bed. His thrusts are coming harder, faster. They lift me up and punch me down again, masculine power slamming into me.

Marshal’s eyes burn like never before. It’s so intense I want to look away, if only he weren’t holding my chin, keeping my lips ready every time he wants to stamp another rough kiss into me.

There’s a new side of him in bed. It’s wounded, frantic, and dangerously greedy. He owns me harder in every thrust, and that’s where I sense him letting go, wishing our bodies were the entire universe.

My fingers pinch his arms harder. I move my hips into his, bite into our next kiss, as rough as I can stand because I want him to be okay, damn it. I don’t want him to think. I want him to be here, with me, sharing this reckless, beautiful heat.

Harder, Marshal. Fuck me and forget the rest.

Just you, and me, and fire.

Whatever I’m doing, it works. He can’t control the roughness entering his rhythm.

His hips slam mine so hard I might bruise. Delicate friction from his pubic bone becomes a fierce rubbing, rocketing my clit into ecstasy.

My mouth falls open, seeking desperate breath. “Marshal, I can’t…I can’t!”