PLEASE, DADDY

"You can." He sucked my clit harder. "Come now, baby girl."

And somehow, impossibly, I did. Another orgasm tore through me, smaller but no less intense. I was dimly aware of crying, of begging, of pulling his hair so hard it had to hurt.

When he finally pulled away, his face was glistening with my arousal. He looked so fucking satisfied with himself.

"See what you've been missing?" He crawled up my body, kissing my stomach, my breasts, my neck. "This is what you deserve. Every. Single. Day."

I could taste myself on his lips when he kissed me.

His cock pressed against my entrance, and even after everything, I still gasped at the size of him.

"Look at me," he commanded. "Want to see your face when Daddy fills you up."

I met his eyes as he pushed inside, slow this time, letting me feel every inch. The stretch was still overwhelming, my pussy sensitive from multiple orgasms.

"Fuck, you feel good," he groaned. "So tight. Like you were made for my cock."

"Maybe I was," I whispered.

Something flickered in his eyes—possession, pride, hunger. He pulled back and thrust in deep, making me gasp.

"Say it again."

"I was made for your cock, Daddy."

"That's right." He set a slow, deep rhythm. "This pussy belongs to me now. Not my son's. Mine."

Each thrust hit so deep I could feel it in my stomach. His pelvis ground against my clit with every stroke. I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper.

"Harder," I begged. "Please, Daddy, fuck me harder—"

He grabbed my wrists, pinning them above my head with one hand. The other wrapped around my throat, squeezing lightly.

"Like this? You want Daddy to destroy this tight little pussy?"

"Yes!"

He fucked me harder, the bed frame slamming against the wall. I hoped distantly that the neighbors weren't home. The sounds we were making were obscene—skin slapping, my moans, his grunts, the wet slide of his cock in my soaked pussy.

"Touch yourself," he ordered. "Make yourself come on Daddy's cock."

My hand flew to my clit, rubbing frantically. I was so sensitive it almost hurt, but I couldn't stop.

"That's my girl. Look how desperate you are. How much you need this." His grip on my throat tightened slightly, cutting off just enough air to make everything more intense. "You going to come for Daddy again?"

"Yes, fuck, I'm so close—"

"Tell me who you belong to."

"You! I belong to you, Daddy—"

"That's right. Mine now. My good girl. My perfect little slut." His thrusts grew erratic. "Come with me, baby. Come on Daddy's cock while I fill you up."

The orgasm built at the base of my spine, coiling tighter and tighter. His cock hitting that perfect spot, my fingers on my clit, his hand around my throat, his filthy words—

I came apart.

The orgasm was different this time—deeper, fuller, radiating from my core through my entire body. I clenched around him, milking his cock, and felt him pulse inside me as he came too.

"Fuck, Mia, fuck—" He buried his face in my neck, hips jerking as he emptied himself inside me.

We stayed like that for a long moment, both panting, hearts racing, bodies tangled together.

This was wrong on every level. He was my husband's father. I'd just betrayed Ethan in the worst way possible.

But God, I'd never felt so alive.

David rolled off me, pulling me against his chest. His fingers traced lazy patterns on my arm.

"You okay?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "I just cheated on my husband with his father. Multiple times. In his childhood bedroom."

"This isn't my childhood bedroom. I bought this house after the divorce."

"That doesn't make it better."

He tilted my chin up, making me look at him. "Do you regret it?"

I searched my feelings. Guilt was there, definitely. But regret?

"No."

"Good." He kissed my forehead. "Because I meant what I said. I'm not done with you. Not even close."

"What does that mean?"

"It means you're mine now, Mia. I don't share. And I don't give up what's mine."

"I'm married to your son."

"I know. But we both know that marriage is over. Has been for a while." His hand slid down my stomach, between my legs. I was still sensitive, still dripping with his cum. "Your body knows who it belongs to now."

He pushed two fingers inside me, making me gasp.

"Gonna keep you full of my cum. Gonna fuck you so often you'll always be dripping. Every time you sit next to my son, you'll feel my cum leaking out of you. Every time you kiss him, you'll taste me on your lips."

"That's fucked up," I whispered.

"I know." He curled his fingers, finding that spot that made me moan. "But you love it, don't you?"

I did. God help me, I did.

"Say it."

"I love it, Daddy."

"What do you love?"

"I love being yours. Love your cum inside me. Love being your dirty little secret."

"That's my good girl." He fingered me faster, thumb finding my oversensitive clit. "One more. Give Daddy one more and then I'll let you rest."

"I can't, I'm too sensitive—"

"You can. You will." His other hand pinched my nipple. "Come for Daddy, baby girl. Show me this pussy is mine."

It shouldn't have been possible. I'd already come four times. But my body responded to his command, the orgasm building despite my protests.

"That's it. I can feel you getting close. So fucking responsive for me."

"Daddy, please—"

"Come. Now."

And I did, clenching around his fingers, crying out his name, my whole body shaking with the intensity of it.

When I finally came down, I was boneless, exhausted, thoroughly used.

David kissed me softly, so different from the rough fucking moments before.

"You're incredible," he murmured. "Absolutely incredible."

I should go. Should get dressed, go home, pretend this never happened.

But I didn't want to.

"Can I stay a little longer?"

"Baby girl, you can stay as long as you want." He pulled the sheets over us. "In fact, I insist."

I curled into his chest, his heartbeat steady under my ear.

What had I done?

What was I going to do?

But those were questions for later. Right now, I just wanted to enjoy this—being wanted, being satisfied.

Even if it was wrong.

Especially because it was wrong.