Page 8 of Gangster Daddy's Girl

Still, I can’t deny that he isn’t exactly what I assumed him to be. He’s shady, scary, and a little dangerous, but the conversation we had over dinner was mind-blowing. Tyson is deep, layered, complex, and incredibly witty. I don’t remember the last time I laughed as hard as I did when we talked. For a while, I forgot that he was a mobster and got just as lost in the good time we shared as I did in those icy blue eyes.

It surprised me to learn he’s so well-read and well-traveled. He’s been all over the world and is far more cultured than anybody I’ve ever dated, that’s for sure. And despite his gruff, imposing exterior, I saw flashes of gentleness in him. The man is morelayered than an onion, and it has my head spinning. I don’t know what to think of him. He doesn’t seem to fit into any one box very neatly.

Shaking my head, I push it all out of my mind and close my eyes, trying to get some sleep. I’d prefer to not think about it anymore. As I do, though, images of what happened in the car flood into the empty space, taking control of my thoughts. My body follows. Though I try to resist, I feel his mouth on mine. Feel his tongue slipping past my teeth. I see his fingers glistening with my juices sliding in and out of my warm, wet opening.

Electric goosebumps wash across my body, and my nipples stiffen as heat blossoms between my thighs. As I remember watching him lick my juices from his fingers, savoring it the way I’d savored the meal we shared, I quiver. A small, breathy moan passes my lips, and the insides of my thighs grow slick, a powerful need rising within me like a lustful tide.

Cupping my breast with one hand, I pinch my stiff nipple hard enough that I gasp. My other hand travels down my belly and into my panties, my fingertips dancing lightly upon my clit. I squirm and writhe under my comforter as I massage my breasts and tease myself, memories of Tyson’s fingers pumping into me and filling my mind.

“Oh God,” I whisper.

I slip a pair of fingers into me, biting my bottom lip and shuddering. Sliding my other hand down, I rub my clit and press my head back against my pillow, flailing on my bed as I finger myself to images of Tyson’s hard cock buried deep within me. Squeezing my eyes shut, I picture him on top of me, my legs wrapped around his waist as he pounds himself into me. I seethose frosty blue eyes boring into mine as he drives that cock deep into my pussy.

“Fuck,” I whisper. “Yes, Daddy. Yes.”

The scene in my mind shifts, and now he has me bent over, one hand on my waist, the other pulling my hair good and hard. The sound of our bodies slapping together as he fucks me echoes in my ears, and I cry out as I drive my fingers as far as I can get them. I shudder as I picture him slapping my ass and yanking even harder on my hair, pulling my head back almost painfully.

As I plunge my fingers into my opening, I imagine his hand trailing up my back, then encircling my throat. He squeezes hard as he buries his cock to the hilt inside of me. A smile crosses my lips, and I shudder, my pussy growing hotter and wetter as my fantasies play out in my mind.

“Yes, Daddy,” I groan. “Harder. Give it to me hard, Daddy.”

I’m dripping wet and know I’m going to have to change my sheets, but I can’t stop. With the image of Tyson pounding me from behind while pulling my hair and choking me firmly fixed in my mind, my fingers have taken on a life of their own. One hand continues working my clit while I pump two fingers in and out of my pussy, my shuddering cries growing louder and more intense. I feel the pressure building up inside me as I hurtle toward the edge of bliss.

In my mind, Tyson is back on top of me, staring into my eyes, his hard, toned body hovering just above mine. He’s still got a hand around my throat, and the veins on his neck stand out as he fucks me with a hard, steady rhythm that sends shockwaves of pleasure washing through every corner of my body. My skinfeels like it’s on fire as I imagine his rigid length plumbing my most intimate depths.

As I reach the precipice, I quickly pull a pillow over my face, biting it savagely. For a moment, I hover at the crescendo and am weightless. With one more touch of my clit, I topple over the edge. I thrash and writhe wildly as I come, the pillow helping to muffle my cries. My stomach is turning somersaults, and it feels like I’ve got raw electricity flowing through my veins as I come harder than I ever have before.

Slowly, my orgasm ebbs, leaving me shaking, my skin damp with perspiration, and a puddle between my thighs. Deep down, I know fantasizing about being with Tyson is wrong. He’s not one of the good guys, and I shouldn’t be thinking about fucking him. I know myself well enough to know that train of thought isn’t going to lead me anywhere good. But I can’t stop. The more I try to stop thinking about him, the more I can’t stop thinking about him.

I close my eyes and laugh softly to myself, still basking in the afterglow of my orgasm. Every nerve ending in my body tingles, and my stomach is still rippling with pleasure. In the silence that envelops me, I tell myself that fantasies are one thing, reality is another. And so long as I don’t succumb to temptation, there’s no harm in pretending. It’s just a fantasy. Fuel for when I pleasure myself that I enjoy far more than porn. That’s all it is.

Right?

7

TYSON

It’s been a few days since I got Tabitha off in my car, and I haven’t heard from her. I sent her a text the next day just to make sure she was okay, but she hadn’t returned it. She seemed pretty freaked out when she ran off, so I’m going to give her a little bit of space to process what happened between us. But I’m not going to let her have too much space.

In the meantime, to keep my mind off her, I’ve thrown myself into work. It hasn’t helped much. No matter how hard I try to keep from thinking about her, I keep hearing Tabitha’s whimpers and moans. Can’t stop remembering the way she moved and writhed as I fingered her. Can’t help but recall her soft, pillowy lips and the feeling of her tongue in my mouth. Just thinking about it now gets me hard as fuck.

“Hey, boss.”

Marco’s voice is an instant erection killer and thank fuck for the distraction. I’ve jerked off to my memories of Tabitha coming all over my fingers so much in the last few days, I’m feeling a little raw. I look up from the papers on my desk to see Marco standingin the doorway to my office, an amused smirk playing across his lips.

“What is it?” I ask.

“You’re not going to believe this.”

He doesn’t say anything more, so I raise my eyebrows, waiting for him to go on. All he does is stand there with a stupid grin on his face. Needed distraction or not, I’m not in the mood for this kind of stupid guessing game bullshit.

“I might if you tell me what it is,” I prompt.

He chuckles. “Rico and Dawson are here.”

“What the fuck do they want?”

“They want to talk to you.”

---