Page 185 of Cook

I stood out of his swiping range, or he would already have his arm around my waist and me sprawled across his bed.

“What if I want to eat?” I asked.

He looked down at my plate of food, but we both knew that wasn’t what I meant. His smirk turned into a smile, and he leaned back on the bed in full. “My pretty little sausage slut?”

“Yours, Daddy. Always.”

The pillows raised his shoulders and head. He would watch my technique, but I had come a long way since my first blow job.

“Take off your clothes,” ordered Cook.

“Daddy,” I warned, “your stitches.”

“I haven’t seen you in such a long time, baby girl. Show me.”

I took off my T-shirt—his shirt, actually—and skirt I’d used to hide myself when he came home today. I had wanted him to rip the clothes off my body. Instead, I let them sink to the floor and stood naked before him. He dragged his gaze across me, and goose bumps pimpled my skin in the wake. When he had gotten the look he wanted, he snapped his fingers and pointed to his cock.

Kneeling beside the bed, I sized up his length. My eyes had always been bigger than my stomach, but I dropped my jaw, anyway. I dragged my tongue across the length of his member, and it answered accordingly. His hips raised, and I realized just how much control I had over him.

I placed my mouth around the head of his cock and then bobbed up and down. He moaned, fisting my hair and keeping me steady. I couldn’t open my throat at this angle to take him fully inside, so I used my hand around his base too. I swirled my tongue around the head of his cock and lingered on the sensitive spot on the underside of the head.

Cook released my hair, and I took his cock further into my mouth. I took him in as far as I could, and then I stretched my throat, pushing myself to take him deeper.

His fingers prodded open my entrance between my legs. With Cook’s cock in my mouth, I glanced at him. His long arm worked, muscles stretching, as he slid his fingers across my pussy lips. It was enough to make me come now. Almost. I had been desperately waiting for him. He slid his hand up and down my slit, but he didn’t play with my clit. He didn’t enter me. What a bastard move.

Then Daddy brought his fingers to his lips as I worked his cock, and he licked his fingers, tasting me. I hollowed my throat and pushed my head down onto him, taking all but the last inch. But then he gripped my hair and pulled me back.

“Ride me, baby girl,” he ordered.

“Yes, Daddy.”

I wanted his cock more than I wanted breath itself. My lungs had burned for oxygen when I’d been fucking him with my mouth, but I wanted him deep in me any way possible.

I crawled up to his body and was about to swing myself over him and sink down like I was back on his motorcycle, but then he shook his head. He swirled his forefinger around, motioning that he wanted menotto face him. But I needed his eyes.

“Daddy?” I asked.

“You’ve been a bad girl,” he said. “You need to be punished.”

Following his order—and hiding how a thrill of excitement pounded through me—I turned away from him. I swung my leg over his waist and then sank down onto his cock. Fuuuuuuuck. The head of his cock slid between pussy lips, and I opened further for him until I was seated on his member. I stretched to accommodate him, and he waited beneath me.

“Am I in, baby girl?” asked Daddy.

“Yes.” The single word came out breathless.

“Are you comfortable, baby girl?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Are you scared?”

I thought for a second, but even though I wasn’t looking at him, I was fine. All I thought of was him and how he stretched me so perfectly.

“No, Daddy.”

“Ride me, baby girl.”

And I did.

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