Total pages in book: 15
Estimated words: 13200 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 66(@200wpm)___ 53(@250wpm)___ 44(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 13200 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 66(@200wpm)___ 53(@250wpm)___ 44(@300wpm)
I smile at him. "Or they'll have even more to say. You do own a sex club."
"And I'm damn proud of it." He nuzzles my neck. "Not that you'll be going there anytime soon. The thought of you seeing anyone naked but me makes me homicidal."
"Uh, eleven million people see you half naked every week."
"Saw me half-naked every week," I correct. "That won't be happening anymore. It got people to stop and listen to what was being said, but if they aren't willing to do it with my clothes on at this point, they weren't listening in the first place."
"I love that," I whisper. "You really care about this."
"Fuck yeah, I do. I see people walk through the doors of the club every day, ashamed because of their kinks. It shouldn't be that way. What happens between two consenting adults is their own business."
"Unless they're social media stars."
"Even if they're social media stars," he says, nipping my throat. "No one gets to dictate to us, baby girl. And they don't get to shame you."
"Then let's do this," I whisper.
He kisses me again, long and deep this time, and then pulls me back into his arms before settling down in his chair. I perch on the edge of it, watching as he sets up the camera. Once he hits record, he sits back down, slipping his hand into mine.
"Dear World," he says, pulling me close, "you know me as Mr. Dad Bod, but this talented goddess right here knows me as something else."
"My world," I say. "Madden Banks."
He grins at me, but I just shrug. It's the truth.
"You've done an awful lot of gossiping lately about what she calls me. We just wanted to set the record straight." He narrows his eyes on the camera. "We're two consenting adults in a loving relationship. And that's none of your fucking business."
Epilogue
Madden
"Daddy," Olive moans, gripping the sheets tight in her hands as I play with her little asshole. "Please, daddy."
"Please what, baby girl?"
"Please, I can't take any more!" she cries. "Please fuck me now!"
"Why should I? You won't obey the rules."
"I will," she sobs. "I p-promise I will."
It's a lie, and we both know it. She's six months pregnant and supposed to be resting. Instead, she's running all over the house after our toddler and trying to choreograph a new routine. She doesn't know the defintion of rest. So I'm wearing her gorgeous little ass out so she sleeps. It's the only way to ensure she does what she's told.
"Liar," I growl, grinding against her clit again. "You'll just be up again in five minutes, doing exactly what you aren't supposed to be doing." Her little asshole clenches around my thumb and I know she's on the edge of another orgasm. "When I decide you've had enough, I'll give you what you want."
She sobs my name, clawing at the bed, writhing as another orgasm sparks. This one cracks her. She wails her way through it, screaming the fucking roof down as she convulses. She's so fucking hot when she's like this. God, it's been four years, and I still can't get enough of her. Every day with her, my obsession grows. Every day, I find a new reason to adore her, a new reason to love her.
It took a while for the newness of us to wear off and for people to find something else to fixate on. Our video helped, I think. At least, it got people to back off prying into our sex life. It also sparked a lot of honest conversations about kinks. I won't say it changed anyone. We aren't that world yet. But we creep a little closer every day. Maybe one day, women won't feel shame for dreaming about having a daddy. Couples won't have to hide in exclusive clubs to explore their desires. I don't know. All I know for sure is that people left my baby girl the fuck alone. They let us have our privacy.
"Please, please," she whispers, her body going limp in my arms as her legs fail her. Finally. I swear to God, my wife has more energy than anyone I've ever met.
She runs her own studio, choreographs, and chases our three-year-old around all day, and somehow still never seems to run out of steam.
I flip her onto her back, lifting her leg over my hip as I slide into her, giving her what she wants. Denying her is hard as hell. It goes against every instinct I have. But she's been running full steam ahead for months. She needs a break. It's my job to make sure she takes one. I'm her daddy. And that's my baby growing in there.
"Daddy," she moans, her eyes rolling back in her head as I thrust deep, finally giving her what she wants.
"Goddamn, baby girl," I growl, fucking her slow and deep. "You pretend you hate being punished, but you're never fucking wetter than when you've been bad."