Page 27 of Bossh*le Daddy
When he finally freed himself, I couldn't look away.
His cock was a thing of brutal beauty—long and thick, jutting proudly from his body with a slight upward curve that made my mouth water. The shaft was veined, throbbing with his heartbeat, the skin smooth and taut. The head was broad, flushed a deep purple-red, and already glistening with a bead of pre-cum that made me want to lean forward and lick it off.
I must have made some sound—a gasp, a whimper—because his eyes snapped to mine, dark with hunger and something more dangerous. "Do you see what you do to me?" he growled, onehand wrapping around his length, giving it a slow stroke that made my thighs clench. "See how hard Daddy gets for his good girl?"
All I could do was nod, transfixed by the sight of him pleasuring himself while watching me with those stormy eyes.
He moved with that careful control, positioning himself at my entrance, letting me feel him there without pushing forward.
"Tell me you want this," he demanded, hands gripping my hips with bruising force. "Tell me you need Daddy inside you."
"Please," I sobbed, trying to arch toward him, seeking the connection we both craved. "Please, Daddy, I need you. Need you inside me. Need to be yours."
He snarled, "You already are mine," and with that, he drove forward, impaling me in a single fluid motion that drew a raw, primal moan from both of us. The sensation was all-consuming—the sharp stretch, the exquisite fullness, the sheer carnal perfection of having him buried deep within me. I'd never experienced anything so intense, so completely possessing, as if every inch of me was made solely for his claim. My hands clawed at the smooth desk, desperately seeking anchor, finally gripping his steely forearms, holding on as if he were the only stable thing in a world spinning wildly out of control.
"So fucking perfect," he rasped, holding himself still with a visible strain that made his muscles tremble. "So tight, little one. Like a velvet vice. Perfect for Daddy."
I could only moan in response, my body yielding to his invasion, nerves sparking with a pleasure so acute it obliterated thought. He filled me utterly, possessed me completely, and I never wanted this primal connection to end.
He began to move with a torturous slowness, withdrawing until I whimpered at the vacancy, then plunging back with a control that ignited every nerve ending. Each thrust wascalculated, deliberate, designed to stoke the flames of my need until I was a writhing, panting mess beneath him.
"Feel that?" he groaned, his voice a rough, hungry rumble. "Feel how perfectly your body takes me? Like you were molded for this. Molded for me."
I could only nod desperately, words lost to the overwhelming sensation of him moving within me. He filled me so completely, each withdrawal leaving me hollow and aching until he drove back in, deeper each time, until I swore I could feel him in every pulse of my body.
His hands roved over me with possessive, greedy touches—thumbs circling my nipples through my blouse, making them peak and throb. When that wasn't enough, he roughly yanked the fabric up, exposing me to his ravenous gaze and skilled fingers.
"So fucking beautiful," he growled, pinching one nipple just hard enough to make me arch off the desk with a cry, offering myself up to him like a sacrifice. "All spread out for Daddy like a fucking feast."
The praise and the sensation combined to push me higher, that familiar tension building low in my belly. But just as I started to climb toward release, his movements slowed, became teasing, keeping me balanced on a knife's edge of need.
"Not yet, little one," he commanded when I whimpered in protest. "Good girls come when Daddy says."
The authority in his voice made me clench around him, drawing a harsh groan from his throat. His control slipped for a moment, hips snapping forward harder, faster, before he caught himself.
"Turn over," he ordered suddenly, pulling out of me with a loss that made me sob.
His hands guided me, firm but gentle, until I was face down across the desk, the cool surface a shock against my heatedskin. This position made me feel even more vulnerable, more exposed, completely at his mercy.
"That's it," he praised as I arched my back, presenting myself to him. His hand smoothed over the curve of my ass, still tender from his earlier attention. "My perfect girl, so eager to please."
When he slid back inside me, the angle was different, deeper, hitting spots that made stars explode behind my eyelids. I bit my lip hard, trying to muffle the sounds escaping me, but he wasn't having it.
"Let me hear you," he commanded, one hand tangling in my hair, pulling just enough to arch my neck. "Want everyone to know who you belong to."
His pace increased then, all pretense of control abandoning him as he claimed me with powerful thrusts that had me sliding across the desk. I braced myself as best I could, pushing back to meet him, lost in the rhythm we created together.
"Please," I gasped when the tension became unbearable, every muscle coiled tight with need. "Please, Daddy, I need—"
"I know what you need," he growled, his free hand sliding around to find my clit. The first touch of his fingers there made me scream, the sensation too much and not enough all at once. "But you'll wait. You'll be good for me."
He played my body like an instrument he'd studied for years, building me up to the edge of orgasm before pulling back, again and again, until I was sobbing with need. Tears streamed down my face, my whole body shaking with the effort of holding back, of being good, of waiting for his permission.
"Daddy, please," I begged, dignity long abandoned. "I can't—I need—please let me come. Please."
"Look at you," he said, voice filled with dark satisfaction. " Tell me who you belong to."
"You!" I cried out as he thrust particularly deep. "I belong to you, Daddy. Only you."
