The Painter’s Daughter Read Online Margot Scott

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Dark, Insta-Love, Virgin Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 44
Estimated words: 41577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 208(@200wpm)___ 166(@250wpm)___ 139(@300wpm)
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I writhed uncontrollably, my hips lifting off the bed. He stilled me with his strong arms.

“Too much?” The tilt of his smile made it clear he knew exactly how much—or how little—it took to make his daughter flail around like a fish on the dock.

I went limp and struggled against my racing pulse to catch my breath.

My father dipped his head and licked my pussy from bottom to top. I melted like ice cream in the summer sun. He flattened his tongue and lapped languidly, focusing on my clit. I closed my eyes and surrendered to the feeling of having my bones reduced to gelatin.

He flicked and fluttered before easing into a steady rhythm. A warm flush swept through me. My nipples pebbled, aching to join in on the fun. I massaged my breasts and played with my nipples, ratcheting my pleasure even higher. His tongue disappeared for a second and then returned along with two slick fingers. He teased my opening, then slipped inside. I cried out at the delicious incursion.

He sucked my clit softly. Tiny eruptions of pleasure lit up my brain like fireworks. He added a third finger, fucking into me while his lips and tongue worked their magic.

My arousal crested. I felt the urge to bear down, to clench up, to be everywhere at once. I came around my father’s fingers, my arms and legs spasming. He fixed his mouth over me, playing with my clit and stretching my orgasm out until it became too much and I had to wave him off.

He flashed a glossy smile. “Fuck, I love making you come.”

“Me, too.” I grinned. “Thank you, Daddy.”

“My pleasure, baby.”

He wiped his face with the sheet and then crawled up to kiss my mouth. He’d left a thin sheen on his lips just for me. I hummed my enjoyment and savored the delicate tang. His cock nudged my belly, smearing a drop of precum above my navel. I took him in my hand, stroking lightly, and coaxed a low growl from his throat.

“Christ. My balls feel like dead weight.” He shuddered as I swirled my thumb around the tip. “You’re absolutely sure you want to do this?”

I cradled his jaw and forced him to meet my gaze. “Are you?”

A taut moment of silence passed as he studied me. I bit my lips together and kept them clinched even after they started to hurt.

“I want you so fucking much,” he said, his voice strained. “Too much. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“The only way you could hurt me now is by letting me go.”

My father laid his hand between my breasts, over my heart, then skimmed his fingers down my body. Arousal bloomed fresh between my thighs. I whined softly. His gaze darkened as he squeezed me gently with his whole palm.

Please, I thought, don’t push me away. Let me stay with you.

I pressed against him, needy and insistent. He reached for his cock. My heartrate picked up speed as he positioned the head at my opening.

“Put your arms around me,” he said.

Chapter Twenty

Thousands of tiny luna moths took flight inside my ribcage. I clutched at my father’s back and shoulders as he slid the head of his cock inside me. My muscles burned. He withdrew to the very tip and then eased forward. I cried out.

“Jesus, you’re tight,” he rasped. “Am I hurting you?”

“Kind of.”

His shoulders tensed. “Want me to stop?”

“No, keep going.” I squeezed my eyes shut.

“You sure?”

I nodded. I wanted this, all of it, the pain as well as the pleasure. “I’m sure.”

He kissed a meandering line from my ear to my lips. I slipped my tongue into his mouth, a mirror image of what he was doing to me down below. He eased a little further in and then paused, allowing me time to get used to the sense of fullness. I imagined supple, receptive things: roses blooming, sand slipping through spread fingers, dark-chocolate pudding. I willed myself to be open, to embrace the anticipation of not knowing what would happen next.

When my father’s pelvis met mine, I knew he was all the way inside me. I felt stretched, plugged, so full I thought I’d burst. Yet, it didn’t hurt nearly as much as everyone said it would. Weeks of fingering and oral sex had no doubt prepared me for this moment.

He rolled his hips. I felt every inch of him sliding in and out, every inch of my wet pussy expanding and contracting around him. But it wasn’t enough. I needed more pressure on the outside, more direct stimulation of my clit.

I opened my eyes. He was watching me, his expression equal parts lust and concern.

“What do you need, baby?”

I licked my spit-chapped lips. “My clit…”

My father sat up without pulling out. Draping my legs over his thighs, he gripped the backs of my knees and hauled me toward him, burying his cock deeper. I moaned, shaken by the sensation and turned on by the unparalleled view of his toned chest and stomach. He licked the pad of his thumb and then used it to stroke my clit while he fucked me.



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