Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 25416 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 127(@200wpm)___ 102(@250wpm)___ 85(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25416 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 127(@200wpm)___ 102(@250wpm)___ 85(@300wpm)
“You wanted Daddy’s cock, didn’t you?” he asks, his voice gruff as sandpaper.
“Yes,” I say, because I did want it, and I do. I’d never wanted anything so badly in my life.
“Good girl. Take it all.” He buries himself inside me to the hilt. I arch my back, canting my hips in time with his thrusts. After a few more thrusts, he pulls out suddenly, and flips me over. “On your knees, baby,” he says, and I hoist my ass into the air just as he commanded.
He slides into me, somehow even deeper than before.
“Oh, fuck, Daddy…”
His fingers dig into the soft flesh of my bottom as he fucks me hard, his skin smacking against mine
“That’s daddy’s good girl.” He reaches around to play with my clit as he works his cock in and out of me. The combination of inner and outer stimulation reduces me to nothing but a vessel for sensation, a storm of pleasure punctuated by the occasional lightning bolt of pain.
I feel another orgasm rush toward me then, just as his pace begins to quicken.
“God, I feel you tightening,” Lucas rasps. “That’s it, good girl. Come on my cock. Milk daddy’s cock with your pussy.”
“I want your cum, too, Daddy,” I say, breathless. I’ve never said anything like that out loud, but it feels good. Sexy. Scandalous. “I want you to come inside me.”
My orgasm crests and breaks like a wave upon rocks. We cry out in tandem, as he thrusts deep and then holds himself inside me. I feel his cock throb. I press back against his hips, squeezing every inch of his shaft as he comes inside of me, and I come around him.
After, we collapse onto the bed, sweating, panting, and complete.
“That was…” I can’t find the words. But Lucas gets it, gets me.
“It was.” He clears his throat awkwardly. “Is it all right that I said… When I asked you to call me…”
I roll over to face him and cup his cheek. He studies my expression like a puzzle he’s having trouble solving. “It was better than all right. It was hot. Really hot.”
He exhales through his nose, looking relieved. I gasp as he slides his hand down my body, between my legs, and slips two fingers inside me.
“You know why you like it when Daddy turns your tight pussy into a cream pie?” When he raises his hand again, his fingers are glistening. “Because you’re my dirty girl. Say it.”
“I’m your dirty little girl.” I squeeze my thighs together as he smears our combined wetness onto my lips and then kisses me.
seven
LUCAS
Falling in love with Tatum is the easiest thing I’ve ever done. Tempering my obsession so that I don’t scare her off? That’s the real challenge.
The days melt into weeks. Tatum and I find a calm and easy rhythm to our lives. She spends her days at the salon, working her way up to being a full stylist, and I spend mine working with my hands. The carpentry job is rewarding, if exhausting, but it’s satisfying to watch a house come together and know that I had a hand in creating it. I come home tired and content most days, then Tatum and I make dinner together. Sometimes we eat with Nina, sometimes we dine alone. We talk about our days, our hopes, our dreams for the future. We watch TV, read quietly side by side, and hang out with Marcellus.
Our lives are the peaceful kind of quiet I’ve always wanted but didn’t think I’d get to have. Not with Tatum, anyway. On weekends, we find more furniture for my apartment until it’s almost as over-decorated as Nina’s—almost.
But I love it; it feels like an extension of Tatum’s home, and she’s helped to make it her own, which helps it feel more like mine. Because what I’ve discovered over the course of falling in love with her is that she is my home.
And I don’t know how to tell her. Because there’s still this thing between us, this heartbreaking secret I carry. It’s always there, skulking around the back of my mind, reminding me how fragile our relationship really is, turning what should be a perfectly pleasant Sunday breakfast into something tainted by lies.
“What’s wrong, baby girl?”
Tatum sits at my kitchen table, her chin in her hand and clouds in her eyes. She’s got a blank piece of paper and a pen in front of her, but she isn’t writing.
“I haven’t heard from my dad for a couple of months now. I’m starting to get worried.”
My heart starts to pound but I do my best to keep a straight face. I refresh the coffee in her mug and then sit down beside her.
“I’m sure he’s fine,” I say.
“How can you be sure? He’s never gone this long between letters.” She looks at me, concern knitting her brows. “Do you think I should go see him?”