I grasp his hair, hold it tight. He fucks my pussy with his fingers, licking my clit, eating me up. I roll my hips, pleasure rocking through my skin.
He pulls back, stands up, and kisses me. I sit up, pressing my body against his, taking his cock in my hand. I stroke him fast, needing it badly, losing myself to desire.
He groans softly. “You’re so fucking sexy, you know that, Clara?”
“Yes, Daddy,” I say. “I’ll be whatever you want me to be.”
He groans, pulls my hair. I gasp as he kisses my back, my breasts. He bites a nipple, teases me, pulls me up to my feet.
I groan as he turns me around, pushes me down again.
“That’s right, you’ll be whatever I want,” he says. He spanks my ass, nice and hard. “You’ll do whatever I want. Give me whatever I want. Because you know what’s good for you.”
“What’s good for me, Daddy?”
“Me,” he says, eyes wicked and intense.
He spanks me again before grabbing my ass and spreading it wide. He drops down, licks me top to bottom, before teasing my pussy with his cock.
I groan as he sinks himself inside of me. I look over my shoulder, staring at him like I can barely handle his size. Truth is, I barely can, even after feeling it already.
He slowly strokes in and out of me, but I’m not patient enough for that. I start to move my hips, riding back and forth along his length. He grunts, slaps my ass, squeezes it. I’m going to have a bruise and that only makes me feel more excited.
He starts to fuck me harder, holding onto my hips. He grabs my hair in one fist, pulling it back, hip in his other palm. He grips my waist, holds me there, pins me down and fucks me.
It’s like I’m his, completely and utterly. All I have to do is give myself up to him, let him fuck me however he wants, and I’ll get the pleasure I so desperately need.
This is what he means. This is what it means for him to be my Daddy, for him to take care of me.
He fucks me rough, faster, deeper. I roll my hips and back against him, bucking and wild. I’m sweating slightly, but I don’t care about that.
He pulls me back against him, whispers in my ear. “Every inch of your tight pussy feels like fucking heaven,” he says softly. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”
“Tell me,” I groan.
“You get me hard every time I see you. I just think about this tight cunt and I’m so fucking hard I can barely walk. Every day, I dream about fucking you, making you scream, making you beg. You drive me wild, Clara.”
“Oh, god, Jason. Fuck me, Daddy.”
He pushes me down, thrusts into me, merciless and intense. I ride back along his huge shaft, taking him deep, feeling nothing but intense pleasure and need and desire for him.
I can feel it building inside of me, but he’s not giving it to me just yet. He pulls back, turns me over onto my back. He spreads my legs wide and pushes inside of me as he leans over and kisses my lips.
I groan into his kiss as he grinds his cock deep inside of me. I can feel bliss as he writhes against my clit, cock buried inside my pussy. I moan as he pulls back, fucking me faster.
I moan, losing myself in the moment. I’m his, completely and fully, without any reservations. Anything else disappears, any of the stress, the worry, the fear.
All of my hesitations are gone.
There’s only Jason, his body against mine. That’s all I want from him, just his flesh, his blood, his desire. His cock inside of me, pushing me to my limits, spreading me apart, driving me wild.
I can feel him building inside of me. It’s pleasure, intense and deep and sparing nothing. Every inch of my body burns with it, yearning for him, burning for him.
I gasp as he bites my nipple, pulls back and smirks.
“Not yet,” he whispers, almost as if he can sense the growing orgasm. “Not yet, Clara. You’re not ready for it yet.”
He slides back and pulls me off the bed. I stumble toward him as he kisses me, wrapping his arms around me, pulling me against his naked body. I should be cold but instead there’s sweat on my skin, heat in my breath.
He lowers me to my knees again and steps away. There’s a large dresser nearby that he opens. I sit there on my knees, throbbing with him, aching for more. I can’t believe he stopped.
“You’ve been good, Clara,” he says softly, taking something from the drawer. He carries it over to me, draped in his hands.
It’s a black scarf.
“You’ve been very good,” he repeats. “Having you around… it makes me feel something I haven’t felt in a long time. I want to give that feeling to you, too. Do you want that?”