Chapter 10: Ripped By My Roommate’s Dad(10)

He shoved me onto my back like I weighed nothing, knelt between my thighs, and hooked both hands under my knees until they were pressed to my chest and I was fully exposed—dripping, swollen, messy, soaking for him. And he didn’t say a word. He just lowered his mouth and fucking devoured me.

Tongue out. Hands holding my thighs wide open. Breathing like a beast while he licked through the mess between my legs like it was the only thing that could keep him alive. And I screamed. Loud. Full-throated. No shame. No filter. Just raw, hot, unhinged pleasure tearing through my whole body.

“Oh my God—Daddy—fuck—I’m gonna—”

He didn’t stop.

He growled.

I swear he growled into my cunt, lips sealed around my clit, tongue flicking so fast my vision blurred and my toes curled and my body just snapped. I came. Hard. So hard I arched off the tile, my hands slamming into the floor, my voice cracking as I cried his name again and again, my thighs shaking like I was having a seizure and loving every second of it.

But he didn’t stop.

Even when I came.

Even when I was begging.

Even when I was sobbing.

He just kept eating me like it was his last meal, like he was trying to taste the baby he put inside me, like he was marking every inch of me from the inside out.

And when he finally pulled back, face soaked, eyes dark, chest heaving?

He stood.

Unzipped.

Pulled his cock out.

And shoved it back inside me in one thick, brutal thrust that made me scream so loud I covered my mouth with both hands.

Because Kayla was still home.

And the bathroom door wasn’t that thick.

“Say it again,” he growled, hips slamming into mine as he held my legs up. “Say what you are.”

“I’m yours,” I whispered, voice breaking. “I’m your slut, Daddy, I’m your cum dumpster, I’m your little knocked-up kitten, I’m your everything.”

He grunted.

Deep.

Low.

And then he came.

So hard.

So deep.

So thick.

I felt it everywhere. Flooding me. Warming me. Filling me. And I cried as he did it, because I could feel him clutching my hips so hard he’d leave bruises. I could feel every drop soaking back into my already-full womb. I could feel his breath on my neck as he whispered, “Good girl. That’s it. Take Daddy’s cum. Take it like the little pregnant slut you are.”

And when it was over?

When we were both shaking and panting and my body was twitching under him?

He kissed my stomach.

Just once.

Soft. Gentle. Possessive.

And whispered—

“You’ll never sleep in that guest room again.”

His hands stayed wrapped around my thighs, but his fingers loosened just enough for his thumbs to stroke the crease where my legs met my trembling core. He was looking at me now. Not like a man who’d just come. Not like someone who was done.

But like someone who owned me.

“You think I’m letting you go back to that cold little bed?” he rasped, voice dark, wrecked, feral. “You think I’m going to let you sleep a single night without my cock in you now that I’ve filled you like this?”

My lips parted.

I tried to answer.

But all I managed was a choked little whine because I could still feel it.

Still feel the way his cum was thick and hot and sliding deeper with every twitch of him inside me.

Still feel the soreness in my thighs from how wide he’d stretched me.

Still feel the ache in my pussy that hadn’t stopped pulsing since the first time he’d growled into it like a man starved.

“You belong in my bed now,” he said, chest rising and falling with every breath. “You sleep naked. With your legs open. Just like this. Every night.”

I swallowed.

Hard.

His hips rolled forward slowly, grinding his cock deeper into my sore, dripping cunt and making me gasp so sharp I nearly bit my lip bloody.

“I want to smell myself on you every fucking morning,” he went on, voice lower now, more dangerous. “I want to wake up to you drooling on my chest and leaking my cum down your thighs. I want to fuck you awake. Breed you again. And again. Until that little belly is so round and full you can’t walk without me holding you.”

My hands fell from my mouth.

I was panting.

Eyes wide.

Heart racing like I was still mid-orgasm and maybe I was, because the way he was talking—the way he was claiming—was dragging me right back to the edge of something dizzying and raw and too much.

“I don’t want you dressed,” he said. “Not around me. Not in this house. Not when you’re mine. Do you understand me, baby?”

I nodded.

Shaking.

Whimpering.

“Use your words.”

“Yes, Daddy,” I whispered, voice hoarse. “I understand.”

He kissed my thigh.

Then the other.

Then slid his cock out slow, and I moaned at the loss of him, at the stretch, the mess, the emptiness that made my walls clench and twitch around nothing but air.

Until he pushed two fingers in without warning and scooped his cum back inside me.

I screamed.

He smiled.

“Not a drop goes to waste,” he murmured. “That’s my baby in there. That’s my seed soaking your womb. And if it takes fucking you five times a day to make sure it sticks, then that’s what I’ll do.”

I was crying again.

I didn’t even know why.

Tears were just falling, my chest was shaking, my pussy was pulsing, and I didn’t know how to be a person anymore when this man was everywhere—inside me, around me, claiming me in ways that left nothing untouched.

“You’re mine now,” he said, wiping my tears with his knuckles like he hadn’t just wrecked me. “You hear me, baby girl? You’re not just my slut. You’re not just my cum-dump. You’re my home. My everything. My fucking world.”

He leaned down.

Pressed his lips to my neck.

Then my cheek.

Then my mouth.

And whispered against my lips—

“I’m going to marry you.”

My breath caught.

“What?”

“I said I’m going to fucking marry you,” he growled, more serious than I’d ever heard him. “I don’t care if the whole world says it’s wrong. I don’t care if your best friend finds out. I don’t care if you try to run. You belong to me now. I’ll put a ring on your finger and a baby in your belly and I’ll chain you to the goddamn bed if I have to.”

My heart was slamming.

My pussy was weeping.

My soul was screaming.

“Say it,” he demanded again. “Say what you are.”

And this time, I said it louder.

More broken.

More soaked.

More full of everything I’d become.

“I’m yours,” I sobbed. “I’m your kitten. Your fucktoy. Your wife. Your whore. I’m fucking yours.”

He grinned.

Dark.

Triumphant.

“That’s my good girl”