CHAPTER 4: MY STEPDADDY GOT ON HIS KNEES AND RUINED ME

The sound he makes against me vibrates through my entire body. His hands tighten on my thighs, pulling me closer to his mouth, pulling me to the very edge of the bed until I’m practically riding his face, and he sucks my clit between his lips and pulses his tongue against it.

My vision whites out.

“Fuck, right there, right there don’t stop—”

He doesn’t stop. His tongue is relentless, flicking and pressing and circling, and I can hear myself, the wet sounds his mouth is making against me, the slick obscene mess of it, and I can feel it running down, dripping between my cheeks, soaking the comforter under me.

He slides two fingers inside me and I clamp around them so hard he grunts.

“Tight,” he says against my clit. “So fucking tight. Your little pussy has barely been touched, hasn’t it?”

“No, I’ve only been with—” I can’t even finish because his fingers curl and find a spot inside me that makes my thighs slam shut around his head.

He forces them open again. Wide. Pinned apart with his forearms.

“Only been with who?” He’s pumping his fingers now, curling on every stroke, and I can hear how wet I am, this obscene squelching sound every time he pushes in.

“One, just one person, he was—”

“I don’t care who he was.” Dominic’s thumb replaces his mouth on my clit, pressing hard, and he rises up on his knees so his face is level with mine. His chin is dripping. His lips are swollen and glazed. “He’s gone. Right now there’s only me. Say it.”

“Only you.”

“Only what?”

“Only you, Daddy.”

His fingers speed up. Three now, when did it become three, and the stretch burns in a way that makes my eyes water, but I don’t want him to stop. The fullness is addictive. I can feel every ridge of his knuckles dragging against my walls, feel the way my body grips him and tries to pull him deeper.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, watching his hand between my legs. “Look at this pussy swallowing my fingers. Greedy little thing.” He twists his wrist and I cry out. “You hear that? Hear how wet you are? That’s not fake. That’s not for show. That’s your body telling me what your mouth won’t.”

“I’m going to come—”

“Already?” He doesn’t sound mocking. He sounds pleased. Like proving his point is the greatest pleasure he’s had all night. “It’s been four minutes, Elena. Your stepfather’s had his mouth on you for four minutes and you’re already falling apart.”

“I can’t, it’s too—”

“Let it go. Come on my fingers. Show me what that boy never bothered to see.”

He curls all three fingers hard, presses his thumb flat against my clit, and I shatter.

It’s not like anything I’ve given myself in the shower or under the covers at two a.m. It’s violent. Full-body. I’m convulsing around his hand, gushing, I can feel it, hot liquid pooling in his palm, dripping through his fingers, and I’m too far gone to be embarrassed. My heels are digging into the mattress and my back is arched and I’m pulling his hair and sobbing his name, not his name, the other thing, Daddy, Daddy, oh fuck Daddy, and he works me through every wave, fingers pumping, thumb grinding, until I’m shaking so hard I can’t sit up.

He eases his fingers out and I whimper at the emptiness. My thighs are trembling. The comforter under me is soaked, a dark, spreading stain, and I can see his hand, glistening from wrist to fingertip.

He looks at it. Then at me.

Then he puts his fingers in his mouth and sucks them clean, one by one, eyes fixed on mine.