Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 46159 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 231(@200wpm)___ 185(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46159 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 231(@200wpm)___ 185(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
“Yes,” I croaked.
There was nothing unhurried about what came next. He began fucking me in long, quick thrusts that sent trails of fire through me and stole my ability to make sounds. Jesus H. Christmas, he punched the air right out of my lungs, and the pleasure built up fast.
I jerked my cock quickly until he took over.
“No, that’s Daddy’s job.” He yanked me back, controlling my movements with one hand and my cock with the other. “He loves it when you make a big mess on the sheets,” he whispered in my ear. I shuddered violently. “But it’s a bit filthy, isn’t it? How you always come in Daddy’s bed?”
Oh God, Daddy was in a dirty-talk mood. I stood no chance!
My body could roll with the punches, and I fucked myself on his perfect cock as if I’d been born to do it. Meanwhile, my mind was a sluggish mess swimming in every filthy whisper.
“So desperate and needy.”
“My wonderful little baby whore.”
“That’s it—milk Daddy’s cock, just like that.”
I gasped, black spots filling my vision, and I realized I hadn’t taken enough breaths.
“Daddy, I wanna come so bad,” I cried out.
“Beg.”
Fuck. I choked on a dry breath and cleared my throat. Focus, focus! He was teasing me, stroking me too gently, all while I was fucking myself on him like there was no tomorrow. I swallowed against the dryness in my throat.
“Please, Daddy,” I whimpered. “I wanna make a mess with you. Please? It’s your fault anyway.”
He took a breath and nipped at my neck. “How’s it my fault?”
“Because you always make me so needy!” I moaned.
Thank goodness, he grasped my cock tighter. I rolled my hips, taking him all the way in, then thrusting forward to fuck his fist. Fuck me, that was the sweet spot. I went faster and faster, and Daddy got caught up in it too. Daddy’s cock, Daddy’s fist, over and over, fluid motions, harder and faster, and I was suddenly a feverish puddle of desperation standing on the edge of a cliff.
“Jesus fuck,” he whispered huskily. “Only I make you needy, correct?”
“Freakin’ duh,” I whimpered. “Please, Daddy. I’m so close.”
He groaned through a chuckle and squeezed me to him. “Okay. Get us off, baby. As hard and as fast as you can.”
I nodded quickly and chased our orgasms, and he poured all his focus on me. He kissed me, he touched me greedily, he whispered how much he adored me, how…
“I’m fucking obsessed with you,” he whispered roughly.
That did it. I choked on another breath, caught totally off guard, and felt the pleasure crash down on me. Holy fuck, the sensations hit so forcefully that I lost all my composure—and Daddy had to take back control. He lifted me up a few inches, then pounded his cock in and out of me, creating those slapping sounds, and I automatically took over and stroked myself through my orgasm. Within seconds, he was groaning out his own release, fucking it deep into my ass.
You gotta breathe, dude!
I fucking couldn’t. Or almost. Wait—okay, now it worked. I managed to draw a ragged breath, and it kick-started my lung function again. Goddamn. I should’ve worn my Fitbit.
Daddy said he’s obsessed with you. Let’s focus.
I shivered and blinked sluggishly. Holy crap, yeah. Because…if he was obsessed with me, like I was with him, chances were I could convince him to propose to me one day.
“Christ, baby boy.” Daddy shivered too, and he hugged me tightly from behind. “I say we move this party over to the couch where we can nap.”
“And open presents,” I added, holding up a finger. “And eat breakfast.”
He chuckled and kissed my shoulder. “That too.”
After a quick shower, I jumped into my new reindeer jammies, and then it was Daddy’s turn. He’d ordered breakfast and made some preparations while I’d freshened up, and the living room area was super-ready for our Christmas morning. He’d put cartoons on the TV, though the sound was off, and Christmas music was playing on my Bluetooth speaker.
We gave each other a big smooch in passing. He ducked into the bathroom, and I grinned gleefully at the setup in the living room. The tree, the Christmassy blankets we’d picked up yesterday—because that was a must! Oh! And he’d brought Turtleton to the couch. I sprinted over there, only to change my mind and hurry over to the tree. I grabbed three of the gifts for Daddy, because that seemed like a good start.
I’d bought him over twenty! But, like, they weren’t all Mont Blanc pens and stuff. I knew what my Daddy liked. He wanted a few of the finer things—like the pen he’d dog-eared in an actual paper catalogue—and he wanted…me. He loved gifts where my personality shone through, so I’d been creative. We were talking body worship coupons, a new picture of us for his desk at the office in Culver City, a mug that said World’s Best Daddy Christmas, a cookie jar for his office at corporate…