Page 4 of Kiss, Kill, Thrill Me, Daddy

“Don’t you dare,” he warns me, his breaths coming in quick. “Don’t wanna come. Wanna render you unconscious.”

I love this. The way I’ve taken him to the edge so soon, making speech almost impossible. “Come for me, Tatum. You know you want to.” I bring both hands to his hips and allow my fingertips to slip under the elastic band of his shorts. “I would like you to remove these, then I want you to fuck yourself against me. Will you do that for me?”

He shakes his head, but his body is working against him. He sets whatever object he’s been using to choke me with on the floor before standing and shimmying out of his shorts. Wonderstruck, I drink in the vision of his hard cock bouncing free, slapping his stomach. Tatum lowers himself back onto me, but he doesn’t grab his weapon this time, just leans forward, his cock wedged firmly between us. Guiding him, I roll his hips, trying to get him to follow my lead. Thankfully, any resistance he may have felt falls by the wayside, and he rocks against me without instruction.

“Fuck,” he groans, grinding harder. The pain in my chest is nothing compared to the lust in my heart. I’m just as hard as he is, but this isn’t about me. He can worship my cock soon enough. Tonight, I praise him.

“There you are. Let yourself have this. You’ve earned it.”

“Why?” he asks, his hips moving faster.

“Because you have been neglected far too long. I’ve seen it. Your social media, your boyfriends’ social media. They post nothing about you, yet your profiles are devoted to them. They do not realize what they have.”

“What do they have?”

“Everything,” I answer, licking my lips. He’s fucking against me with abandon now, his pre-cum soaking through my shirt. I want to feel him on me, so I remove a hand from his hip, enjoying the needy whine that escapes at the loss of contact. I sit up long enough to remove my shirt, wanting to give him an unobstructed view of what’s on offer. His eyes lock on the quickly spreading bruise over my cracked rib, and he looks like he might cry. His hips are no longer moving, which doesn’t work for me. I want him to have this. I want to be responsible for every orgasm he has from here on out.

“Are you okay? That looks really painful.”

“I am fine,” I assure him. “I love it, Tatum. Use me. Fucking abuse me. As long as I get to see you like this, you can do whatever you want. I have a high threshold for pain.” I kiss the tip ofmy thumb before brushing it against his brow. “I promise, I am okay. Go on, now. I want you to come on my chest. Mark me.”

“Don’t wanna.”

“I think you do. I think there is something you need. Something they cannot give you. I can, though. I will, if you will allow it.”

“What?” His hips roll, but he’s trying to be sneaky about it, looking around the room as if he’s searching for something. “What do I need?”

My hand slides around his hip, and I let it rest on his ass. Fuck. It’s the softest ass I’ve ever held. It’s like it’s calling out to me. Begging me to reach deeper. To touch his most intimate places. “You need someone who will worship the ground you walk on. Someone who will take care of you. Treasure you. You need a Daddy, Tatum.”

His eyes roll back in his head, and a moan escapes him. “Fuck off. I’ve got a father.”

“Correct. Nate St. James. Sexologist and bowling league champion.” I slide my fingers further back until they’re resting above his crack. “I know everything about you, sweetheart.”

He whimpers as his hips rock forward again. “You’ve been stalking me?”

“Little one?” When our eyes meet, I give him a clipped nod. “I will always stalk you. Now, come for me. Let yourself have this.”

“Fine,” he says, his voice firm, as if the request offends him to his very core. He grinds harder than before, sending spikes of pain through my chest. But I ignore it. I push it down until it doesn’t exist. I lock my eyes on him until the only thing left in this world are his rolling hips and throbbing cock. Wanting to guide him on his way, I slide a finger between his cheeks and stroke his hole. He’s breathing heavily when he opens his eyes, our faces only inches apart. “Is my cum still all over your cock?”

“It is. When I left the bar, I masturbated in my car so I couldfeel us together. I apologize, I could not wipe you away. I wanted you with me.”

“Oh, God,” he groans as his eyes roll back in his head.

“You feel so good on me. I don’t ever want to wash you off,” I admit. He’s grinding harder now, trying to find release. Wanting to push him over the edge, I dig my nails into his hip. “That’s it. Fuck my stomach, sweetheart. Let it all out.” I lean in and wrap my lips around his nipple, nibbling softly. “Would you like me to fuck you one day? All you have to do is ask. I will make it so good for you.” I place pressure on the entrance, not wanting to breach his rim, just wanting him to know I’m here. “This is where I belong. We both know it.” He slows his movement, biting his bottom lip. Then I feel it. He arches his back, pressing firmly against my finger.

“Do it,” he whispers.

I tap his entrance. “Knock, knock.” Pre-cum pours out, landing on my stomach. It’s all the invitation I need. Sliding my finger in slowly, I let the warmth envelope my skin. He feels so good against me. He feelsright. “This is where my finger belongs, isn’t it?”

He nods emphatically. “Yeah.”

“Is that right?” I crook my finger and his entire body shudders. I believe I’ve just found his prostate. “Because I think this is where I should keep it.” He rolls his hips, and I have to harden my expression to hide the pain from him. “Will you let me keep it here forever?”

“Always,” he pants, thrusting faster.

“I can just carry you around, sliding my finger in and out of you, fucking you endlessly for the rest of your life.”

“Fuck, yeah!” he shouts. His cock swells one final time, and warm, sticky cum flies from his cock, painting me. Branding me. Fucking consuming me. I grab him by the back of the head and pull, slamming our mouths together. His tongue snakes into my mouth and duels for dominance, but I will not let him take control. He needs me to guide him because I am the strong one.I am the protector, and I will protect him until I’m no longer able. Around us, the world is aflame, and we’re simply letting it burn down to nothing—because that’s what it is. Nothing. Anything that isn’t Tatum St. James or Abi Kincaid no longer matters.

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