Page 32 of Morally Gray Daddies

I wanted to beg him to stop, yet I knew it was pointless.

There was also the part of me that didn’t want him to stop. The traitorous, hedonistic part of me that wanted him to keep going. That would be disappointed—though that was too tame a word—if he ceased his assault on my senses.

I bit back a moan as he sucked my nipple into his mouth, pulling hard on the tiny bud. My body shuddered in reaction, the flash of pleasure going straight from my chest down to my quivering pussy. My bottom clenched, remembering the sensation of his cock sliding inside it, the pain—and the pleasure.

That’s not where he was going to have me tonight, though, and I knew it. My pussy pulsed as his mouth moved, switching nipples. I could feel his hard body against me, his weight lying atop me, as my senses were roused. I could feel the tops of my stockings starting to roll down my thighs as he moved against me, the ribbons holding them in place coming loose from all the movement.

“Daddy, please!” I didn’t know if I was asking him to stop or keep going when his teeth bit down on the turgid bud between his lips. It hurt, it ached, yet it felt so good, too. I jerked my hands against the bowtie, the fabric digging into my wrists and keeping me immobile.

“Don’t worry, babydoll. Daddy’s going to take care of you.” He said the words around my nipple, muffled but intelligible. Hands moved down to my lower body, hitching it upward, one sliding behind me to cup my bottom, the other to my pussy. Fingers pushed at my opening, thick and demanding, and I cried out as he pushed them inside me, stretching me.

Then his mouth came down on mine, muffling my cry as he moved his fingers.

The stiff, starched shirt he was wearing and the textured fabric of his tux jacket rubbed against my breasts, abrading my damp, sensitive nipples. I cried out again as the tumult of sensation tumbled over me. His hand on my bottom shifted again, his fingers sliding to the center, seeking out the hole there as well. No matter how I squirmed, I couldn’t get away from his relentlessly questing digits, the two that were pumping into my pussy, the one that sought and found my bottom hole.

It circled, pressed, pushing just the tip into the dry entrance, making me cry out against his lips because it hurt even as his other hand pleasured. I clenched down automatically, trying to keep him out, which made my pussy tighten around his fingers.

Then his fingers were gone, and he was ripping off his jacket and shirt. The buttons flew, the same way the beads on my dress had. The hungry expression on his face, the fiery need in his eyes, took my breath away as he opened the front of his pants, the thick battering ram of his cock springing out.

Placing his hands on my knees, he pushed them upward and outward, folding me in half. I could feel the cool beads against my upper thighs as he pressed them against my dress.

“Daddy, please, be gentle,” I begged, my heart in my throat. What else could I ask for at that moment?

Something flashed in his eyes.

He didn’t answer.

The tip of his cock pressed against my slick womanhood. I whimpered. He pushed in, slowly… I wasn’t sure I could call it gently, but he took his time stretching me open, pulling back, then thrusting in again, going deeper every time. It hurt. It ached. I writhed at the unfamiliar sensations. Yes, I had touched myself before, many times, but it had never felt like this.

All the while, he watched me, drinking in the sight of me slowly being impaled on his cock. My body quivered beneath his as he took my virginity… made me his. When his hips finally came to rest against my body, I let out a ragged, sobbing breath at the sensation. I felt so full. So invaded. Just as much, if not more so, as when he’d put his cock in my bottom.

It didn’t hurt as much as that, at least… it felt so much better. Which was devastating in its own right.

Part of me didn’t want it to feel so good.

Then he began to move.

I cried out, arching my back, thrusting my breasts up as if asking for him to touch them—and he obliged, his fingers closing around them as he began to ride me. The sudden onslaught of sensation was intense, pleasure spiced with pain as I was stretched, his cock moving against previously untouched flesh, going so deep inside me, I thought I was going to split open.

Every time he thrust in, his body rubbed against my swollen lips and my pulsing clit, sending another jolt of ecstasy through me. Everything was tingling, humming with desire, with need, yet the sensations were so intense, so overwhelming, I couldn’t reach my peak.

It was too much.

“Mine,” he growled, looking down at me, his cock moving inside me, hands gripping my hips to hold me in place while he pounded me into the bed. “My wife. My babydoll.”

I was too breathless to answer, too overwhelmed to protest.

Something was building deep inside me, spurred on by the steady assault of his body pushing into mine, rubbing against mine, but it was too much. I fought against the rising tide, struggling to push it away, to push it down. I couldn’t handle it… but just like Gio, it was inevitable. The all-encompassing rapture built up higher and higher, winding me tighter and tighter until I finally snapped.

The ecstasy exploded inside me at the same time the scream exploded out of me. I couldn’t hold it back. Not the pleasure, not the noise, not the way my body writhed beneath Gio’s. I heard his groan from a distance and felt his shudder against me as he plunged in deep. His body rubbed against mine, stimulating my already oversensitive clit, and I screamed again as the sensations whirled, spinning round and round and sucking me under.

Chapter Fourteen

Clara

I couldn’t look at Gio.

My new husband.

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