5

“So close,” he whispers. “Daddy is so close.”

I grip his shoulders as I look up at him. I need him to hear what I have to say because he’s bare inside me.

“Daddy, I’m not on birth control. I’m not on anything. You could get me pregnant.”

His eyelids flutter at my words. Then his eyes roll back. His fingers dig into the flesh of my ass so hard that I’m sure I’ll be able to see a bruise from each fingertip tomorrow. Daddy’s eyes stay locked with mine as he slams in deep one last time.

That’s when I feel his cock jerk inside me. Warmth spreads as we watch each other. It’s so hot, it flings me over the edge as well. Inside me, his length throbs and shoots. My body spasms around him, trying to milk every drop.

The eye contact draws things out. Daddy’s hips continue to rock through his orgasm, as if he’s still trying to get deeper inside me.

Slowly, as if doing a push up, Daddy lowers himself. First, he nips at my lips with his. Then his tongue thrusts lazily into my mouth. I taste a little of my own flavor as he kisses me slowly, thoroughly.

When he pulls back, shocked words fall from my lips. “You came inside me.”

His cock jerks deep within me as he groans. “And I’m going to do it again and again and again.”

“Should I… should I get on birth control?”

He shakes his head. “Apparently, I have a breeding kink and a stepdaughter kink, because nothing has ever made me come as hard as being inside you while you told me I could get you pregnant. I want you to remind me of that all the time. Every time I’m buried inside you, I want you to whisper, ‘but Daddy, you could get me pregnant.’”

Even his own words have his body reacting as his length flexes against the tight hold of my body.

I nod. “Yes, Daddy.”

“I’m going to keep you filled with my cum. No one else touches you.

Do you understand?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“No other boys.”

“I told you there wasn’t anyone else. I don’t want anyone else.”

His brows furrow in confusion. “But you’re always out partying.”

“I haven’t been partying. I’ve been working.”

“Working?”

“Yes. I wait tables at Noir.”

“The French restaurant?”

I nod. “I worked weekends until summer started. Now I work whatever hours they give me.”

“Like last night,” he says, almost to himself.

“They do private parties and sometimes they run really late. Like last night.”

“But… your mother said you’ve been running up her credit card bill.”

I snort. “Not likely. Ever since you’ve restricted her spending, she told me I’m on my own. She said she was afraid to ask you to help with my tuition, so I was on my own there as well. But I almost have enough saved from tips to cover next year’s tuition. Now I’m saving for living expenses.”

Daddy rolls us so he’s on his back and I’m splayed over him. Then he starts to laugh. He rolls us again so I’m beneath him.

“What’s so funny?” I ask.

“This,” he says with a wave of his hand. “Your mother is a real piece of work. She told me you’ve been spending her money. She told me I should give your tuition money to her so you won’t blow it. So I suggested you live over the garage to save me some money so I wouldn’t have to pay for your dorms, too.”

I stiffen, outraged. “What? You didn’t give her the tuition money, did you?”

“No. I was planning on paying that myself. I know what your mother’s about. At least, I thought I did. I believed her when she said you were running up her bills. I was pissed. I was even more pissed that I still wanted you so badly I could taste it. If I’d known the truth, I might have been gentler your first time.”

I shake my head as I bite my lower lip. “It was perfect,” I told him.

“And you living here while you go to college is perfect. Daddy can sneak into your bed whenever he wants, can’t he?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

+++

Daddy exhales slowly, face softened by the afterglow, and for a long, weighted second we simply hang there, breathing the same air, tangled, ridiculous, and terrified by how easily the world outside the room could be set on fire by one wrong word.

My skin still tingles where his hands held me; every small nerve insists I remember.

I press my forehead to his, listen to the hush of his breath, and realize I am both steadier and more broken than I was at the start of the night.

“You okay?” Daddy asks, his voice was rough with something that could be worry or fear or the tail end of desire.

There’s a softness there that makes me want to tell him everything and nothing all at once.

“I’m…” I search for the word that will keep me honest without handing him the whole wreck of me. “I’m here. That’s all.”

He laughs, low and incredulous, like he can’t believe I’m still speaking, still making decisions after all that.

“Good,” he says, and his hands find my hips, not possessive now but steadying, anchoring us back to common land.

“Because I don’t want you anywhere else.”

Something in it makes me ache.

Not the quick, hot ache that sent us tumbling, but a slow, stirring bruise that promises to color everything I do for days. Then I think about the life growing in me, then about the dreams written in pencil rather than carved—and how our escapade has tilted that careful balance.

“Listen,” I say, voice small but quickening with resolve.

“If we do anything else—if there’s another night—we have to be honest.

Honest about everything. No lies, no stories that make either of us safer by making the other small.”

He studies me like I’ve just offered him the map to someplace frightening and sacred. Then he nods, slowly.

“No lies.” He presses a kiss to my temple that feels, impossibly, like an apology and a promise all at once.