Page 90 of Masks and Mishaps

“I bought a kit, but the tube was small, so he had to hold the overflow—”

“Lander held your dick.”

“Twice,” I clarify. “The first one seemed crooked, so I did another, but it turned out fine. Now you have two.”

“Two,” she muses, picking up one of the thick green toys. It’s alarmingly accurate. The vein she’s licked countless times even runs prominently through the underside. “Two Daddy Dalton dildos. God, when you separate it from your body, it’s really just enormous.”

“Not everyone takes it like you. You know, Lander and I tried to share a girl once. My size made her uncomfortable, so eventually I bowed out and watched her do it with Lander.”

“And how was that?”

“Dull. I got bored and started playing Candy Crush on my phone.” I snicker. “Lander’s clit game was pretty weak.”

“I’ve heard he’s fabulous.”

“Yeah, he’s definitely put in the work over the years, But back then, it was like watching someone who had never DJed trying to play a nightclub.”

“Well, I can take you,” she reminds me before she kisses my cheek. “And I love my new toys. Obsessed.”

Perfect. I’m still smiling when I take out my ski mask—and she knows where this is going now.

I sit in an armchair, and she lowers herself onto my thigh and grinds down, gyrating that tight body like she’s a professional in a strip club. Head thrown back, one hand threaded through my hair and the other rubbing her own skin, she’s down to fuck—as usual.

In retrospect, it’s funny we both thought I needed a free-use clause. With Essie, it’s always free.

I’m doing my best to set my phone against a table lamp, but she’s making it exceedingly difficult. Her fluid motions carry the grace of well-honed seduction, capturing the intrinsic desire that seems to flow through her body. Such a sweet girl. Such a sweet, ridiculously horny girl.

We’re both in frame when I look to where she’s pulled the hem of her short, cotton dress above her perfect thighs.

“You’re going to make a wet spot on my pants,” I comment, excited by the prospect.

“Then take them off,” is her flippant response.

Brat.

But I do take them off along with my shirt because I hate saying no to her. Plus, the thought of her rutting her dripping wet pussy on my thigh is kind of incredible.

I give her the mask I brought her. She positions it over her face and tightens the long ribbons at the back of her head, forming a neat bow. Then she eyes my ski masked-face and nearly-naked body, keeping her lower lip trapped between her teeth before she climbs back into my lap and settles her weeping wet pussy on my thigh again.

She leans forward and her lips graze my ear. “Your body makes me lose my mind,” she whispers before her tongue slides over the shell of my ear. “Do you know how much I’d do for you?”

I exhale slowly, forcing myself to shut up and let her talk.

“You could make me do anything,” she goes on, wedging her hand between us and finding the evidence of how much I want her. “You could take any hole—all of them, Daddy.”

“All of them?”

She sucks my earlobe and gently nibbles the skin. “At the same time. You could make me doanythingfor you—that’s how drunk I am on this glorious body and this thick cock.”

Jesus, fuck.

“Then tell me about this pussy,” I urge before licking the pad of my thumb. “Tell me it’s wet and ready for me.” I wrap my hand over the apex of her thigh, gripping the spot where it meets her hip, and I lay my spit-slick thumb against her clit.

Essie lets out a mewing sound. She moves wantonly—faster. My thigh is slick with her arousal, and I can tell she’s getting herself there—doesn’t even need me to touch her.

“There you go, beautiful,” I murmur, pulling my thumb away and slipping it between her lips instead. She starts suckling immediately. “Are you going to get off on my thigh?”

Essie nods, groaning faintly and staring at me with needy, hooded eyes.

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