Caught Red-Handed!

DADDY'S PLUS SIZE ADDICTION (2)

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NATALIE

“You think I don’t know what you’re doing? Those pictures made that pretty fucking clear!” Vincenzo yelled, slamming the door behind him.

My mouth opened, but no words came out.

Pictures? What pictures?

I stared at him, my mind scrambling to catch up.

Then it hit me.

The nudes.

No!!!

That wasn't possible. 

My hands instantly flew to my phone.

I sent them to Luca. Not his father. I repeated it to myself like a prayer, desperate to believe it. My trembling fingers unlocked the screen and opened my messages.

There he was.

Don Moretti. The last person I’d messaged.

Luca’s name sat right below his.

In my blind panic, while trying to stop myself from sending them, I had sent everything straight into the wrong man's inbox.

Blood drained completely from my face as I swiped through each attachment.

One was a high-resolution shot of me on my hands and knees, back arched, ass thrust into the air, my own fingers spreading my pussy wide open while I looked back over my shoulder with desperate, raw lust smeared across my face.

The next showed my tits pressed together, glistening with oil, my tongue teasingly slipped between my lips like I was begging for a cock to fill my mouth.

The last was a hardcore, merciless close-up of my cunt, two fingers buried deep inside, my swollen clit leaking with my own juices.

All three sat in Vincenzo's inbox.

Opened.

He'd seen every single one.

My stomach dropped.

Oh, God.

He had seen me naked, spread open, dripping and begging for a pounding like the shameless, sex-starved slut I was terrified I really was.

The thought of what a man like him could do with those photos made my stomach twist.

What if he was disgusted? What if he sent them straight to my husband?

Cold sweat broke across my skin.

Shit.

There was nothing left to salvage.

If Vincenzo wanted to destroy me, who was going to stop him? One order from him could tear my life apart before I even had time to understand what was happening.

My heart pounded hard against my ribs. I could barely breathe.

Yet beneath the fear, a thought crept in. I was terrified that Vincenzo had seen me like that, but a part of me couldn't deny how much it thrilled me that he had.

For months, I had touched myself in the dark while imagining this exact man fucking me.

It had only ever been a fantasy. A dirty little secret locked away in my head.

I never expected that fantasy to stare back at me while I was sober enough to understand exactly how dangerous it was.

“I…” My voice cracked. “I’m s-so sorry.”

The apology sounded weak even to my own ears. I forced my chin up, expecting his glare to burn right through me.

It didn’t.

His eyes had drifted lower. Slowly. Taking his time.

He took me in, and the wicked glint in his expression sent a chill down my spine.

Then it hit me.

I was naked.

Jesus Christ…

A fierce blush flooded my face. My fingers clawed blindly for the throw pillow, yanking it against my lap to shield myself.

I lay frozen on the couch, completely paralyzed beneath the weight of his stare.

“I know women like you,” he spat. “You play the quiet, innocent little wife, but underneath, you’re just waiting for a real man to bend you over a table and fuck the screaming hell out of you.”

My brain struggled to make sense of what I’d just heard.

Vincenzo Moretti was actually talking to me like this.

This wasn't some sick dream playing out behind my eyelids anymore.

This was right here in front of me.

“I’m sorry. The pictures were…”

“Meant for me,” he interrupted, cutting me off without raising his voice.

“The only bloody reason you’d be naked on that couch right after shooting those filthy angles is because you were expecting me.” He took a step towards me.

“Luca…” My voice came out small. “I was expecting Luca.”

“Luca?” He spat his son’s name like it left a bitter taste.

His focus drifted to my heavy breasts.

“Does my son even know you spend your afternoons wanting his father’s dick to fill you up?”

Vincenzo moved again, closing the distance between us.

Every second stretched as he approached, fear creeping through me.

Then he stopped.

Dangerously close.

Close enough that I could smell his cologne, his glare pinning me in place.

“Every damn time I come over to check on my son, I notice you,” he rumbled, his voice deathly low in a way that terrified me and soaked my panties all at once.

“The way you swing that thick ass around like you want everyone to look. The way you stare at me when you think I’m not paying attention. You really thought I didn’t fucking notice?”

His accusation should have made me look away.

Instead, my stupid eyes betrayed me.

They drifted over the hard line of his chest, the broad span of his shoulders, the way his shirt stretched across his frame.

Then they dropped lower.

My stomach flipped.

The heavy, unyielding outline of his cock strained hard against the front of his trousers.

He was hard.

Rock hard. Because of me.

I kept staring despite myself.

God help me, I should've looked away.

My fingers tightened around the throw pillow as I dragged my gaze back to his face.

“If you want to tease Daddy that badly, I’m going to teach you a fucking lesson you won't forget. Now, drop that pillow,” he ordered.

I clutched it tighter to my stomach, shaking my head.

“Please,” I breathed out.

His jaw flexed.

“I hate when you pretend you don't hear me,” he growled, the patience snapping in his eyes. “Take that damn pillow off your body before I rip it to shreds.”

Before I could even draw another breath, he lunged forward, ripped the pillow from my grip, and hurled it across the room.

It crashed straight into a glass vase on the side table, shattering it into a million pieces across the floor.

I flinched hard.

His eyes dropped back to my exposed body, his tongue sliding slowly over his bottom lip like he was looking at a feast.

“Stand up and walk over to that table,” he commanded, pointing a finger at the mahogany surface without breaking eye contact.

I scrambled up, my legs shaking as I crossed the floor and braced my hands against the edge.

He stalked over behind me.

“Lay face down,” he ordered.

My palms pressed flat against the cool wood as I lowered myself down, my hips arching automatically.

“You asked for this, Natalie,” he muttered, his hands sliding onto my waist. They were surprisingly gentle as he gripped me, hiking my hips up higher.

Was he going to shove himself right into me here in the open?

Or spank my ass?

I had no fucking clue.

Desire coiled low inside me despite every effort to fight it.

His warm breath hit the sensitive skin of the back of my neck as he crushed me against the wood, pinning me down with his full weight.

Every instinct told me to fight him. I was supposed to be begging him to leave.

Instead, all I could think about was the hard, solid ridge of his cock pressed against the curve of my ass.

A desperate moan tore out of me before I could bite it back.

“I’ve been thinking about you ever since I caught you weeks ago,” he rasped next to my ear. “Riding that fucking dildo out by the pool like you wanted the whole world to watch. You had no idea I was standing right there, did you?”

I tried to swallow the lump in my throat, trying to find my voice, but my mind was fried.

“N-no,” I gasped as his hand slid between us, shoving my legs wider apart with cold authority.

His finger grazed my wet clit, sending a sharp shockwave of pleasure straight up my spine.

He traced the same path again, gathering my slickness before parting my swollen folds. Another sharp, embarrassing moan burst past my lips, echoing off the high ceilings of the room.

“Oh. Look at you...soaking wet,” he mocked, his thumb grinding hard in circles over my clit. “How are you going to sit there and lie about expecting Luca when you’re dripping all over my hand for me?”

I bit down on my lower lip until I tasted blood.

I had no goddamn answer for him.

I tried to pull together a lie—anything to save a shred of my dignity, anything to pretend I still had some control—but his fingers didn't give me the chance.

“Tell me the truth,” he whispered, his fingers pumping in and out of my cunt in a slow, torturous rhythm that made my knees buckle.

“When was the last time my son fucked you?”