Page 42 of Filthy Business
I found the harness and returned to the bedroom. Her hair was down, and there was no sign of tears. My baby had a soft heart, no matter how tough she pretended to be.
“I’ll need to meet your mum,” I said, tearing open the cardboard packaging.
She frowned and bit her lip.
“I can be open about the age gap. I know she’ll have concerns,” I added, laying the black harness on the bed.
“Yeah… we might need to give her a little time to adapt,” she agreed, grudgingly.
“You don’t need to worry. Daddy will take care of everything,” I said when she still looked concerned.
I knew exactly what would get her out of her head.
“I want your mouth,” I said, pointing to the end of the bed.
Her eyes lit up, and she crawled over like a minx as I began to remove my clothes.
“No, leave your shoes on,” I said when she reached down to remove them.
She lay on her back and shuffled down the bed, her head hanging off the edge until her long golden hair brushed the floor.
“Is my little brat going to choke on my dick tonight?” I asked, unzipping my pants.
She nodded, biting down on her plump, painted lip.
I toed off my shoes before whipping off my trousers.
“I want every last bit of that red lipstick on my cock,” I said, working open the buttons of my shirt.
“Yes, Daddy,” she said, slicing her tongue between her lips.
The tip of my cock poked out from my boxers, already drooling at the sight of those sexy-as-fuck lips.
Her lips parted as I stepped closer, tongue already flicking in greedy invitation. I pressed the head of my cock against her lips, smearing precum across that perfect red paint.
“Open wider, brat.”
She obeyed instantly, lips stretching, throat relaxing—she knew what I liked. I eased inside, just enough to coat the back of her tongue. Her eyes fluttered as she sucked the tip, painting my cock with wet heat and crimson smudges. Slow. Worshipful. Her tongue curled and teased the underside as I fed her inch by inch.
“Fuck… look at you.”
Her throat welcomed me greedily, lips sealing tight as her spit bubbled around the shaft. I held the base, letting her take it on her own, inching down, swallowing more—eyes watering, mascara already smudging. Her lipstick trailed down the length, marking me like a filthy signature.
“Such a messy little cockslut,” I groaned.“Keep going.”
I thrust shallowly, watching her jaw flex, watching her throat bulge as I fed her more. When I bottomed out, she gagged hard—and fuck, I growled low. Her neck strained, and I gripped her hair with one hand, the other braced against the bed.
“Stay just like that.”
Then I started to fuck her mouth.
Hard.
My hips snapped forward, over and over, using her like a toy. Her throat bulged each time I rammed deep. I could feel the tight stretch of her neck with every drive of my cock—her soft moans vibrating along the shaft, spit pouring down her cheeks, her lips red and ruined.
I pulled out just long enough for her to gasp and sob, her chest heaving, drool dripping down her nose and eyes.
Then I shoved back in. All the way.
