Ruined by my new daddy

“Fuck me please” I said between gasps.

His fingers were still buried deep inside me, curling relentlessly against that spot that made my vision blur, His storm-gray eyes locked onto mine, daring me to say it out loud.

I was trembling on the edge, my hand still wrapped around his thick, pulsing cock. The distant sounds of the reception, laughter, clinking glasses, and the soft strains of the string quartet, only heightened the madness of this moment. I was in a stranger’s bathroom, with my dress hiked up, my breasts exposed, and letting a man I had never met unravel me completely.

“I want you,” I whispered, the words spilling out raw and desperate, “All of you, please.”

A low satisfied growl rumbled from his chest. He withdrew his fingers slowly, leaving me clenching around nothing, aching with need. In one fluid motion, he lifted me off the counter, spun me around, and bent me forward over the cool marble. My palms pressed flat against the surface as he yanked my dress higher and shoved my lace panties down my thighs.

“Keep your hands right there,” he ordered, his breath hot against my ear, “And spread your legs for me.”

I obeyed without thinking, my body was humming with anticipation. He kicked my feet apart gently, then I felt the blunt head of his cock nudge against my entrance. He was thicker than anything I had experienced, for a split second, doubt flickered through me. What was I doing? But then Mark’s cruel words crashed in again, and I pushed back against him, needing this more than air.

He didn’t rush, but teased me first, sliding the head up and down my slick folds, coating himself in my arousal. “So fucking wet,” he murmured, one hand gripping my hip while the other tangled in my hair, pulling it just enough to arch my back. “You’re going to take every inch, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” I gasped.

He thrust forward, burying himself halfway in one powerful stroke. The stretch was intense, and burning in the most delicious way, I cried out, my fingers scrabbling against the marble. He paused, letting me adjust, his free hand sliding around to circle my clit with slow, firm strokes.

“Relax,” he whispered, kissing the back of my neck. “Breathe, You feel so goddamn perfect.”

I moaned, as I pushed back, taking more of him, inch by inch. He sank deeper until his hips were flush against my ass, fully seated inside me. The fullness was overwhelming. I had never felt anything like it before.

Then he started to move, slow at first, deep grinding strokes that hit every sensitive spot inside me. Each thrust dragged a broken sound from my throat, the party downstairs faded completely. There was only him, the slap of skin on skin, his low grunts, and the wet sounds of our bodies coming together.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he groaned, picking up speed. His hand left my hair to grip both hips, pulling me back onto him harder, “Squeezing me like I was made for his cock.”

Pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in my core. I was close already, shamefully fast. He seemed to know it, one of his hands slipped between my legs again, rubbing my clit in perfect rhythm with his thrusts.

“Come for me,” he commanded. “ I want to feel you fall apart.”

I shattered, as the orgasm crashed over me like a wave, harder and longer than anything I had ever felt. My walls clenched around him rhythmically, stars exploding behind my eyes as I cried out, loud and unrestrained. He didn’t stop, fucking me through it, drawing it out until my legs shook and I could barely hold myself up.

“Good girl,” he praised, voice rough with restraint. He pulled out suddenly, spinning me around to face him. Before I could protest the emptiness, he lifted me onto the counter again, hooking my legs over his arms. This time when he thrust back in, it was deeper, and more intimate as our eyes locked.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him down for a messy, desperate kiss. His tongue matched the rhythm of his hips, deep, and claiming. Every stroke sent aftershocks through me. He was relentless, powerful, but there was something almost reverent in the way he touched me, like he was savoring every gasp and tremble.

“You’re so responsive,” he murmured against my lips, nipping at them. “So fucking perfect, Come again for me.”

I didn’t think I could, but he angled his hips just right, hitting that spot inside me with every thrust while his thumb worked my swollen clit. The second orgasm built even faster, crashing over me in pulsing waves. I buried my face in his shoulder, muffling my scream as my body convulsed around him.

He groaned, his rhythm faltering. “That’s it… milk my cock just like that.”

But he didn’t finish. Instead, he pulled out again, dropping to his knees on the tiled floor. Before I could catch my breath, his mouth was on me, his tongue plunging inside, licking broad stripes up to my clit, sucking it between his lips. I threaded my fingers through his dark hair, my hips bucking against his face as another wave of pleasure tore through me.

Only when I was a trembling, oversensitive mess did he rise, lifting me effortlessly and carrying me toward the large walk-in shower. He turned the water on, warm spray cascading over us as he pressed my back against the tiled wall.

This time when he entered me, it was slower, almost tender at first. Water sluiced between our bodies as he rocked into me, deep and steady. I kissed him hungrily, tasting myself on his tongue, my nails raked down his back, urging him faster.

He obliged, pounding into me with renewed intensity. The sound of wet skin slapping echoed off the tiles. I came again, shorter this time, but no less intense, clenching around him until he finally let go.

With a guttural groan, he buried himself to the hilt and spilled inside me, hips jerking as hot pulses filled me. We stayed like that for long moments, breathing hard, water pouring over us.

He kissed my shoulder, then my neck, murmuring something soft I couldn’t quite catch. For the first time in hours, I felt… whole.

Then reality intruded, the bathroom door was slightly ajar because the sound of my mother’s voice suddenly rang out clearly from downstairs, amplified by a microphone.

“Thank you all for celebrating with us tonight! I’d like to introduce my wonderful new husband to those who haven’t met him yet, Harrison Voss!”

The man still buried deep inside me, is Harrison Voss, my stepfather.

I froze, as my blood turned to ice.

No. No, no, no.

His eyes met mine, widening slightly in shock that mirrored my own. But beneath the surprise, something darker flickered, possession, hunger, and a dangerous spark of recognition.

“Ivana?” he said, voice low and rough, my name sounding like a sin on his lips.

Downstairs, applause erupted, My mother’s joyful laughter floated up.

The man I had just allowed to ruin me in the most exquisite way possible, and whose cum was still leaking down my thighs, was my new stepfather.