Austin drives into me with long, measured strokes, the kind that grind my clit against the mattress. I can feel another orgasm approaching. Just a few more seconds, a couple more thrusts...
I whine as a violent climax tears through my pelvis, making me squeeze his cock.
“Jesus, you’re fucking tight like this, baby girl.” He pounds me harder, grunting and slamming into me, sending bursts of pleasure up my spine to light up my brain like fireworks. I can tell he’s close when his pacing grows erratic, and his cock throbs.
Austin groans. I feel him pulse inside me, filling me with heat. It seems to go on and on forever, until finally his body slackens, and I’m pinned beneath his weight.
After a few moments, he pulls out and sits up.
“Kenzie...”
I whimper softly in response. He kisses my shoulder, then my back, then my opposite shoulder. Middle back. Lower. With every kiss and gentle touch, Daddy makes me better.
“Oh, shit, baby. Look at that gorgeous mess dripping out of you.”
I shiver as he dips his tongue between my folds, tasting himself, me, us. I can already feel the wetness soaking the fitted sheet. We’ll have to change the sheets tonight before we go to sleep.
But that’s okay; Daddy doesn’t mind the mess.
I used to wonder how my life might’ve been different if my mom hadn’t left, or if I’d been placed with different foster parents. I don’t ask myself those questions anymore. Everything that’s happened has brought me to this moment, this house, this bed. I won’t go so far as to say that I’m grateful for my suffering. It’ll take a lot more therapy to reach that level of acceptance, if I ever reach it.
What I can say is that I wake up every morning exactly where I want to be, next to the man I want to be with, in a life that’s even sweeter than my dreams.
* * *