All Chapters of Dripping Wet for Only You, Daddy: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

I crawled to the edge of the bed. He stepped close, fisted the base of his cock, and painted my lips with the precum beading at the head. I opened for him. He pushed into my mouth slowly, letting me feel every inch until he rested against the back of my throat.“That’s it. Take it. Show me how much you’ve been longing for this cock.”I moaned around him and started sucking. He let me set the pace at first, long, wet strokes, tongue working the underside, one hand stroking what wouldn’t fit. Spit ran down my chin. The wet, glucking sounds of him fucking my throat grew louder as he began to thrust deeper.“Fuck… look at you. On your knees for your new step-uncle, drooling all over his cock while the rest of the family is outside. You’re my dirty little secret, Claire. Say it.”I pulled off just long enough to gasp, “I’m your dirty little secret, Daddy,” before he pushed back into my mouth.The word made his hips jerk. He fucked my face harder after that, one hand tangled in my hair, usi

The final night of the wedding weekend arrived too quickly.By the time the last guests drifted to their rooms and the villa finally quieted, my body was already thrumming with need. I had spent the entire day watching Nathaniel move through the celebrations looking calm, polite and untouchable while the memory of his cock and the rope and the way he had gagged me the night before kept my panties soaked.I didn’t wait for a signal this time. I went straight to his door.He opened it like he had been expecting me. The second I stepped inside he closed it, locked it, and backed me toward the bed with a look so dark it made my stomach flip.“Last night,” he said, voice low. “I’m going to use you until you can’t walk straight tomorrow. And you’re going to take all of it.”My answer was a shaky nod.Nathaniel stripped me slowly this time, from the dress, bra, to the panties until I stood completely bare in front of him. Then he undressed himself. When his cock sprang free, thick and alre

The first time Thane came to the house I forgot how to breathe.He was tall enough that the doorway seemed smaller when he stepped through it. Mid-forties, broad through the shoulders, dark hair clipped short, a thin scar cutting through one eyebrow. He carried a black duffel bag and the kind of quiet, absolute presence that made the air feel heavier. My new stepfather, Garrick, introduced him as the private trainer who would be coming three mornings a week.“Sable,” Garrick said, “this is Thane. He’ll be working with both of us, but your sessions are separate.”Thane’s eyes landed on me and stayed there a second too long. Not polite. Not professional. Just assessing. I felt that look between my legs like a direct touch.“Pleasure,” he said, voice low and rough, like gravel under boots.I managed a nod. My mouth had gone dry.The first two sessions were pure torture. Thane put me through lunges, planks, weighted squats, and core work that left my thighs shaking. He barely spoke

The three days between sessions nearly broke me.I obeyed Thane’s order. I didn’t touch myself. Not once. By Tuesday night I was aching so badly I could barely sleep. Every time I closed my eyes I felt the ghost of his cock stretching me open, heard the rough way he had called me filthy, tasted the salt of his skin on my tongue. I woke up wet, thighs sticky, clit throbbing against the sheets. I pressed my face into the pillow and whimpered, hips shifting restlessly, but I kept my hands away. The denial only made the longing sharper, meaner, more desperate.Wednesday morning I put on a soft skirt and nothing underneath, exactly as he had told me. The air against my bare cunt felt obscene. When I walked downstairs I could already feel slickness gathering between my thighs.Thane arrived at the usual time. Garrick had already left for the office. The house was quiet. Thane set his bag down, looked at me once, and said, “Gym. Now.”I followed him. The second the door closed he locke

The rain had been falling since dusk, very heavy and relentless, the kind that turned the city into streaks of light and made every surface gleam.Nyra stood at her apartment window watching it, arms folded, the glass cool against her forehead. Three months since the divorce. Three months since her mother had finally left Simon. Three months of running into him at the worst possible moments.Vael.Simon’s younger brother. Forty-four. Sharper. Quieter. The one who had always watched her too long across family dinners when she was still living under their roof. The one whose gaze had made her press her thighs together under the table even when she told herself she hated the way he looked at her.She had moved across the city to get away from the memories. It hadn’t worked.A knock sounded at the door — low, certain, not the hesitant tap of a neighbor.Nyra’s pulse stuttered. She knew before she opened it.Vael stood in the hallway, rain-dark hair dripping onto the collar of his bl