Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23595 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 118(@200wpm)___ 94(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23595 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 118(@200wpm)___ 94(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
I squeeze my eyes shut. “I could be both. A-at different times.”
“Interesting.” He gathers more of the leather in his fists and I have to grip the stove for balance, my thighs starting to tremble violently from the arousing pressure between my legs. The belt isn’t even moving and I’m sure to climax. It’s inevitable. God oh God oh God. “Let’s say you’re my little girl right now. What does that make me?”
My heart is going to beat out of my chest. “I…I don’t know.”
He clucks his tongue. “You don’t?”
“No.” The belt is yanked. Hard. I scream. “Daddy! You’re my Daddy!”
“Good girl. Now you get a reward.” He starts to saw the belt between my legs, up and back, dragging the denim seam over my clit, creating friction everywhere. Everywhere. Even on my back entrance, which shouldn’t feel so perfectly good, but it does. So good, I can barely maintain my position on my tiptoes. “One more question.” His mouth is right up against my ear. “If I’m your Daddy and you’re my little girl, where does that leave your mother? Is she in the picture?” The belt. The belt. It moves faster, making me moan. “Do I have a very short window of time to exercise my rights?”
“Yes,” I gasp, groping blindly to turn off the stove burner.
He knows. He knows every naughty thought in my head without me having to say a word.
Accepts even the parts of me that are a little wrong. A little twisted.
“I see,” Christopher says, dropping the belt.
I whine over the loss of friction, the promise of an imminent orgasm, but the sound gets caught in my throat when I’m spun around, picked up by the waist and tossed onto the edge of the kitchen table. And oh my God, his eyes are pitch black, sweat dotting his upper lip, which is curled up in a snarl. His shaft is thick, filling out one leg of his pants. And his fingers, they undo his shirt buttons quickly, jerking the garment open and treating me to mouthwatering muscles, tattoos layered above flushed skin.
“How long do we have?” he pants, stripping off his shirt completely, dropping it.
“Fifteen minutes,” I whisper.
He growls, as if frustrated by having so little time, and goes to work unfastening my shorts, lifting me up against his chest to get them down my hips, then jerking them further, past my ankles and away. “We’ll leave on the shirt and panties, so you can get dressed fast.”
“Okay.”
I’m hypnotized by the sight of his thick fingers lowering the zipper of his pants, the bulky ridge that comes into view, hidden only by thin white cotton. It’s the first time. He’s my Daddy and we’ve been tempted too far. “I can’t take it anymore. Having you so close and not being able to touch,” he rasps, pulling me to the edge of the table, fastening his mouth over mine in a forbidden kiss. “You’re the only thing that makes me hard.”
Our mouths devour, tasting hungrily, his hands lifting my tank top to my neck so he can fondle my bare breasts, groaning brokenly as he does it.
“So supple,” he says, dipping his head to suck a nipple into his mouth. “So sweet.”
My fingers twist in his hair, holding his skilled mouth to my breasts, but I drop one now, sliding it into the V of his pants, exploring his erection, gasping excitedly over his size. “You’re so big, Daddy.”
He groans at my praise, tugs the silk strip of my thong underwear to the right. “Oh Christ. We shouldn’t be doing this.”
“I won’t ever tell.”
I open my legs wider, bite my lip, and he loses the battle between right and wrong.
In one rough move, he stuffs me full, capturing my shocked mewl with his mouth. “Fuck,” he grits, pumping into me crudely, his hands going to my buttocks and clutching, yanking me into his thrusts, causing the table to bump wildly on the floor. “Not going to be able to get off any other way now, am I? Now that I know what this tight cunt feels like.”
“No.” I pout. “Only with me.”
Roaring a curse, he pulls me off the table and pins me against the fridge, driving into me with powerful, greedy hips, his breath frenzied in my ear. “I put a roof over your head. Food in your little belly. Now show some gratitude and get those knees up around my hips, girl.”
My knees fly up and hug his muscular body.
“Good girl.” He licks his lips. “Look at those little titties bounce.”
I gasp at the violent constriction of my loins.
I’m not sure I knew how deep this fantasy ran. Or how potent it would be. How much it would arouse me, score me with lust. But it does. My nails are buried in his shoulders and I’m holding on for dear life, my mouth in a permanent O, receiving rough thrusts of his huge sex and feeling my own pleasure dam begin to give way, even though I want more of the game. More of the depravity and pull between good and evil. More Christopher.