Chapter 14: Ripped By My Roommate’s Dad(14)

~Maya~

“Daddy,” I whispered, and it came out like a prayer—no, not a sweet little bedtime one, but a desperate, shaking, sinful kind of prayer. One that belonged in a church with the roof caving in. My throat was raw from begging.

My lips were swollen from sucking. My whole body was wrecked, but I still said it again.

“Please. I want her to see. I want her to see how I moan for you. How I cream for you. How I take it over and over until my legs stop working and I forget my fucking name. I want her to see what it means to be yours.”

I heard it—the sound she made. Like a sob. Like the kind of noise someone makes when their whole reality just gets ripped in half. It was broken.

Shaky. Crushed. And for a second, I almost felt something. Pity? Guilt? I don’t even know. But then he touched me again and all of it vanished.

Because he didn’t speak.

He didn’t warn me.

He didn’t even look at her.

He just grabbed me by the waist as his dick left my mouth. He grabbed me with those huge hands that already knew every part of me and lifted me like I weighed nothing. Like I wasn’t a girl but a possession.

Like I was something he could carry, claim, fuck, ruin—and he was going to do it right in front of her. He walked to the couch like it was a throne, like it was our stage, and when he sat down, he spread his legs wide and pulled me into his lap so fast my breath caught in my chest.

I didn’t resist.

I didn’t blink.

I didn’t even think.

I climbed on top of him like I belonged there, like the living room was a fucking altar and this was my worship. My bare thighs opened on either side of his lap, wrapping around him like I was already begging to be taken again.

My pussy was soaked. My panties were ruined. My shorts were damp and sticky and clinging to me like second skin. I was grinding without even realizing it, rolling my hips slow and dirty, pressing my clit against the thick ridge of his cock through both our clothes like I couldn’t help myself.

And then he touched me in a way that made the entire world disappear.

He slid one hand beneath my shirt—his shirt, the one I stole, the one that still smelled like his cologne and his skin and the night he first ruined me—and he pressed his palm right to my belly. Not low. Not teasing. But right there. Right in the middle. Right where it mattered.

Right where the baby was growing.

His baby.

Our baby.

And in that moment, I almost broke.

I almost shattered into sobs. My lips trembled. My hands clutched his shoulders. My breath hitched so violently I thought I might pass out. Because it wasn’t just about sex anymore.

It wasn’t just about the way he filled me or the way I begged or the way I loved when he made me choke. It was about this. About the life he gave me. About the way his eyes softened just a little when he touched me like that. About the way he knew what he was doing to me and still wanted more.

When he spoke again, it wasn’t rough. It wasn’t cruel. It was final. Heavy. Thick with promise.

“You’re mine now,” he said, and it felt like a chain locking into place. “She’s going to see what happens when you belong to someone like me. She’s going to watch me mark you. She’s going to watch me fuck you. She’s going to watch me take care of what’s mine.”

And that was it.

That was the moment I forgot the world.

I was panting. Sweating. Grinding harder now. The friction of my soaked panties rubbing against the pressure of his cock made me moan without meaning to, loud and shameless and so wet it was obscene.

The air around us was heavy with heat and sex and the scent of everything we’d already done. My legs were shaking. My nipples were hard. My clit was throbbing. My whole body was on fire.

And I didn’t care that she was still there.

I wanted her there.

I needed her to see what her father had done to me.

So I leaned in close, mouth against his ear, hips moving slower now, deeper, wetter, and I said it with everything inside me.

“Please, Daddy… make her watch.”

I didn’t say it to be mean.

I said it because it was the truth.

Because I wanted to be seen.

Because I wanted her to know I wasn’t her little friend anymore.

I was the girl her father bred.

And I was about to ride him until I came screaming his name.

“Please, Daddy,” I whispered again, louder now, more breathless, more ruined. “Please fuck me. Please show her. Show her what happens when I obey you.

Show her how you make me scream. Show her how deep you go, how hard you fuck me, how much I love it. I don’t care if she’s crying.

I don’t care if she hates me. I don’t care if she never speaks to me again. I just want you. I want your cock. I want your cum. I want your hands bruising my hips while you fuck our baby deeper into me.”

He growled, and it wasn’t just a sound. It was a possession. It was a claim. His whole chest vibrated beneath me, and then he moved—fast, brutal, perfect.

He grabbed the back of my neck, pulled me forward, and kissed me so hard I whimpered into his mouth. His tongue was in my throat. His hand was in my hair. His other hand slid between us and grabbed my ass like he was reminding me who it belonged to.

I kissed him back like I was starving. Like I needed him more than air. I ground down harder, rolling my clit over the ridge of his cock, moaning into his mouth like a desperate little slut. My skin was burning. My panties were useless. My pussy was so wet I could hear it squish against the denim. And still—I needed more.

When he finally pulled back, his lips wet and his eyes black with lust, he didn’t yell. He didn’t ask. He just ordered.

“Take your fucking clothes off.”

And I obeyed.