Page 124 of Masks and Mishaps

“I love this,” I murmur. “Nobody has ever worshipped me like you do.”

“I could spend two years in bed with you,” he muses, dragging his fingertip around my bellybutton. “It still wouldn’t even out the two years I spent yearning for you.”

“Luckily, we don’t have a deadline anymore.” I guide his hand to my pussy. “Stuff me, Daddy. Use every inch of me.”

Dalton stares into my eyes. “Will you let me take care of you now?” he asks. I nod back, and without missing a beat, he works his fingers into my pussy. “So fucking wet. Your cunt is going to look so pretty stretched around a dildo too.”

“And my throat?”

“I love when you open it. Your body amazes me, and I know it’s going to keep amazing me.” A smile conquers his face. “When I fucked your ass, all I could think about was how I’m going to put a baby into you one day, breed you because you’re mine. But for now, I’m going to screw you reckless—because I love you.”

Smiling back, I slather one of the dildos with lube and pass it to him.

“Dripping,” he muses, watching his fingers disappear into me. “Did you get wet when I fucked your hole? Did I make your pussy weep?” He adds another finger. “Always dripping…”

“Please,” I urge him, glancing at the dildo in his hand. “I’m so ready to come, Dalt.Please.”

“So cute when you’re needy.” He pushes the head of the dildo into me, working the blunt bulb through my wetness and into my waiting pussy. “How are you?”

I raise an eyebrow. “Good—shit.” My body pulses with an unholy mix of pain and pleasure—that quickly melts into the latter. Dalton inserted the dildo all the way into me—a slow, single swoop—and I’m tingling all over.

“Holy shit,” I blurt out, gasping at the reality of how much cock this really is. My asshole strains and my pussy is aching, throbbing around the toy. “I’m so fucking full.”

“You’re perfect,” Dalton assures me, petting my stomach, my heaving breasts, my reddening cheeks. “Baby, I can feel that toy through you. I can feel it against my cock.”

“It’s so much,” I reiterate, forcing myself to breathe. It’s so difficult, but I try—I try.

“Look at you. Fucking look at you,” he continues. He grabs my jaw and faces me toward the camera. “We’re going to watch this video later, and you’re barely going to recognize this body. You’ve never seen it so stuffed and stretched before, but you’re going to be as obsessed with it as I am.”

The draw of a red light and the shine of a camera lens distract me for a beat. They’re familiar—a place where I’ve always performed comfortably, but it’s Dalton I want to look at.

His eyelashes catch the overhead light and his eyes shimmer with the haze of exertion and sex and want, but the most glorious thing about Dalton may be the sheer amount of devotion he carries. I feel it. I feel it when he admires me from across a room and when he slides his absurd length into my willing pussy while I’m asleep. I feel it now when he begins fucking me with his likeness, using his hand to work it in and out of me.

I could bask in him forever. Forever.

When he alternates strokes with his cock, I lose myself in rapture. This is what bodies were made to do—to be pushed and pulled in ways we decide for ourselves. Some women want a single cock, or none at all, or three at once, and it’s all just as magical—and for her to decide. I decided I wanted him, and when every obstacle in the universe sought to keep us apart, we still found each other.

I love him. I’m so in love with him.

“Say my name,” he instructs, breathless from the exertion of working me twice—of nearly splitting my body open every time he plunges his cock and his toy into me.

“Dalton fucking Cavendish,” I grit out.

He’s grinning at how decidedly filthy this is before he says, “Those are the last three words you get until you come.”

Then he places the head of the second dildo against my lips, entering my mouth, and I’ve truly opened all parts of myself to this. My holes are stretched and my body is quivering with need, invaded by three of Dalton’s cocks. My climax simmers in me and grows more potent as he pushes the toy into my throat. My breathing grows stuttered and jagged, and my jaw aches, but it’s transcendent.

To me, the most worthwhile things have never been simple or straightforward. They’ve been complicated and messy and hard-won at times, but they’ve been worth it—so entirely worth it.

“Essie, you’re everything,” Dalton says in a rolling whisper, and the admiration is unmistakable. “You were made to be fucked, and I was made to fuck you. Let me make you come. Let me make everything better. Let me do it forever, baby.”

I can’t answer. I can barely move. All I can do is take it, to stare with watery eyes and tears glittering on my cheeks. My body stays pliant, and Dalton is hard beneath me, inside me, around me.

“I’ll take care of you forever,” he continues, working each of my holes with equal devotion, with the calculated, planful positioning most wouldn’t associate with Dalton, but I would—I do. “Whenever you need this—a fat cock to ride, a ready body to bounce on, someone to make you gush and squirt on the bed we’ll share—I’ll be it. I’ll do it.”

The ecstasy is indescribable, and his words add to the surreality of the moment.

“And I’ll feed you. I’ll dress you. Make more money for you than you ever imagined. I’ll put you on my lap and fill your pussy whileyoumake more money than you ever imagined. Take it. Let Daddy take good care of you forever. Take everything from me, Essie.”

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