MAKE ME SCREAM, DADDY
He curls his fingers against my g-spot, firm, practiced, the rough pads of his fingers catching on the textured spot, and my thighs slam shut around his hand.
He forces them open. Pins my knees apart with his forearms while his fingers pump inside me, deep, curling strokes that hit my g-spot on every pass. The wet sounds are obscene, squelch, squelch, squelch— filling the dark kitchen, and I can feel my arousal running down his hand, dripping onto the granite.
“Don’t stop, right there, oh please oh PLEASE, Dominic— DADDY—”
The word slips out. Daddy. For my boyfriend’s father. And the sound he makes, a low, guttural groan against my breast, tells me it was exactly the right word.
Sikat na Kabanata