Craving Daddy's touch

ISADORA POV

For a moment, I couldn't move.

My heart hammered against my ribs so hard I thought it might break through.

"Isadora?" Richard called again, his voice low and rich, echoing through the bathroom door.

That voice. God, even just hearing him say my name made heat pool between my thighs all over again.

I should panic. I should scramble for clothes, compose myself and pretend nothing happened.

But something had shifted inside me during that orgasm.

I was done pretending, I was done performing.

I was done being the perfect, patient wife waiting for scraps of affection that would never come.

My legs were still shaking, my pussy still throbbing with aftershocks.

I turned off the water with steady hands. Steam swirled around me as I stepped out of the shower, water dripping down my flushed skin.

I caught my reflection in the mirror. My hair was wet and wild, my lips swollen from biting them and my cheeks flushed pink. My nipples were still hard, peaked and sensitive. I looked like I'd been thoroughly fucked.

Except I hadn't been for years and I was tired of that too.

I reached for the white silk robe hanging on the bathroom door.

Funny how the damn thing was Marcus's gift that he had never bothered to see me wear. It was short, barely covering my ass and with a deep V-neckline that left little to the imagination.

I tied the sash loosely around my waist, the damp silk clinging to my still-wet skin, then pulled the door open.

Richard stood in the hallway outside the guest bathroom, clearly surprised. He had probably expected me to be using the master suite.

The moment his eyes landed on me, he went completely still.

His gaze traveled over me, starting at my wet hair, down the deep V of the robe where my breasts were barely contained, over my bare legs still glistening with water droplets, then back up to meet my eyes.

I watched his jaw clench and his hands curl into fists at his sides. I watched him struggle for control.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice rougher than usual. He took a step back, giving me space. "I didn't mean to intrude.

Marcus is out of town and I needed some documents from his home office.” Richard announced.

I almost scoffed out loud.

Of course his son was out of town bending for another man or whatever bullshit they'd be doing.

“I called out when I got here but…" His eyes dropped to the robe again before he forced them back to my face. "I wanted to make sure you knew someone was in the house.” He explained.

"You're not intruding," I said softly, not moving from the doorway. "You're family, Richard." I added in that coy voice I learnt enticed every man except my fucking gay husband.

I watched as something dark flashed in his eyes at that word, but he maintained his distance.

"Still, I should've called first." He cleared his throat, already starting to turn away. "I'll just grab what I need and get out of your way." He added.

"Richard, wait."

He stopped, his back to me and shoulders tense.

I stepped out of the bathroom, my bare tapping the hardwood floor silently .

The movement made the robe shift, and I felt the silk caress my wet skin, almost making me moan.

"Don't you ever get tired of it?" I asked quietly.

Richard turned slowly, his eyes guarded. "Tired of what?"

"Pretending." I took a step closer. "Playing along with this charade and acting like everything is normal when we both know it isn't." I challenged.

If he wasn't ready to approach this topic, I'd shove it in his face and see if he would run away.

His jaw clenched. "Isadora…"

He trailed off but there was a hint of warning in his tone, one that only had me more excited.

“ I feel your gaze on me, feel that burning desire you try so hard to hide but fail miserably.” I pause.

“ I know you want me,Richard.” I don't bother trying to be careful with my words because the moment I made the decision to walk out of that bathroom, I'd thrown all caution to the wind.

Richard's breathing changed.

"You should stop." He breathed out, the words coming out pained.

"Should I?" I reached up and slowly loosened the sash of my robe. "Why? Because it's wrong? Because I'm your son's wife?"

The robe fell open, held together only by the damp silk clinging to my skin.

"Yes," he said, but his eyes betrayed him, dropping to where the robe gaped open.

"That doesn't stop you from looking at me," I said softly. "It doesn't stop you from eye-fucking me across dinner tables when you think no one notices."

"Isadora, don't…"

I shrugged the other shoulder, and the robe slipped down to my elbows.

Richard's control was visibly thinning. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his eyes dark with hunger as he stared at my exposed breasts.

"Touch them.” I whispered. "Don't you want to feel how firm and hard they are?”

I was crossing a line I shouldn't but I didn't care anymore.

"This isn't—we can't…" Richard stammered but his gaze — his hot scorching gaze remained on my naked skin.

I let the robe fall completely and it pooled at my feet, leaving me naked in front of him.

I was still damp from the shower, skin flushed and nipples hard.

Then I stepped forward, closing the distance between us and reached for his hand.

He tensed but didn't pull away.

I brought his hand to my breast, pressing his palm against my hard nipple.

"Do you feel that?" I whispered, my voice shaking. "How hard they are? How desperate?"

Richard's hand trembled against my skin, but he didn't move it away. His fingers flexed involuntarily, and I gasped at the contact.

"Isadora…" His voice was wrecked, just how I wanted him to wreck me.

"Feel it," I insisted, then took his other hand and guided it between my thighs. "Feel this."

His fingers brushed against my wetness and we both groaned.

"Do you feel how wet I am?" I breathed, my eyes locked on his. "Feel how I'm dripping? That's for you, Richard. All for you. I'm craving you. Craving Daddy to touch me. To fill me. To ruin me."

The word 'Daddy' made his eyes go black with lust, but he still held himself rigid, fighting it.

"You're my son's wife," he said, but it sounded hollow and desperate.

"Your son doesn't want me," I said, pressing harder against his hand between my legs.

“ That hasn't stopped you from eye-fucking me across rooms, has it? From imagining what I would look like naked? What I would sound like screaming your name?"

His fingers barely moved against my wetness.

"We both know you want this," I continued, my voice dropping to a whisper. "You've wanted it since the day we met. I have seen it in your eyes.” I pressed.