Page 75 of Masks and Mishaps

I’d never begged a day in my life until I met him.

“Never been so deep,” he’s muttering, barely getting the words out. “Choking me. This pussy loves me, doesn’t it? This pussy knows what’s good. I’ll defile it, and you’ll thank me—that’s how much you need a fat cock like this.”

“Make me come. Please, Daddy. Please. I need you—”

“I’m going to lick you clean when that camera is off,” he whispers.

The wicked duo of Dalton Cavendish’s words and his skillful strokes make my body detonate, and I lose control—and I don’t even care.

My orgasm pulsates through every inch of me, and I squirt when I come, gushing around him in a way that outdoes obscenity. And Dalton truly basks in it, holding his cock and watching me drench it.

“Fuck yeah,” he groans over the crude sounds I’m making. Now, he enters me full sheath and comes deep in my body. The warmth of his cum heightens the tingling aftereffects of my climax, and I’m quivering, babbling, and taking it all, every drop. “No matter what, you need a pussy full of my cum,” he’s murmuring as he pumps in and out, making his cum slide down to my ass. “Don’t push it out—don’t you fucking push any of it out.”

When he believes me—when he knows I’m not going to waste a drop—Dalton pulls out of me.

And that’s it. My best friend, my colleague, and my soon-to-be stepbrother and I just streamed together. A few minutes later, I end the stream and flop back onto the bed with my laptop.

It’s his first staged performance, and I can see the multitude of emotions painted across his unmasked face. In true Dalton fashion, the most obvious emotion is smugness. He likes seeing me as a slumped, sweaty, cum-covered mess. “I could fuck you for hours, Essie Romero,” he murmurs. “You’re so ridiculously fun.”

I already want him again. I want to lay on the floor at his feet and spread myself until he embeds me into the carpet fibers. I want his entire body to cover mine, to splay over every inch of my skin until I’m reduced to an aching, used-up pile beneath him.

But I have to be careful. Dalton thinks he loves me, and I have to becareful.

“Come here,” I encourage. I pat the bed next to me, so I can show him the laptop.

When he sits, he holds my face and studies me. “Did I hurt you? Don’t lie.”

“Not at all. I loved it.”

He nods like he’s convincing himself. “Good,” he decides. “I’d hate myself if I ever hurt you.”

“You won’t.”

Satisfied, Dalton nods again, and the next few minutes can only be described as worship—like he promised.

Dalton literally licks me clean.

His lips start on my neck and trail down. He sucks my arousal off my thighs and pussy lips. He places his tongue on my entrance and flicks it inside before he rises over me again and dips his chin.

I open my mouth.

His tongue presses against mine, and we exchange it in our mouths—an inimitable mingling of both of us—his cum and mine.

“Swallow it. Swallow for Daddy,” he urges while he drags his thumbnail over the line of my collarbone. He wraps his fingers around my neck and applies pressure as I swallow—and even more when I’m done. The heat in his gaze emanates and brushes over my sensitive skin, and I shift under his touch, whimpering when he lets up his grip. I want more—always more.

“Wait here,” he instructs before he disappears into the bathroom and emerges with a damp towel and two ibuprofen.

“Dalton,” I protest. “I—”

“You took me like a professional, yes—all of me.” He holds out the pills. “But we’re going to take very, very good care of this pussy, Ess, which includes taking care of you.”

I dry swallow the pills, but he gets me another coconut water anyway. And while I’m laying back, spread and drinking, he wipes my pussy down.

Eventually, he looks up from between my legs. “How’d we do?”

“Even after the site’s take, we just paid off your camera.”

A chuckle escapes his lips. “Let’s fuckinggo,” he whispers.

---