Page 31 of Praise Me: Pilot
“He should have taken care of you when he had the chance,” I rasp, rutting deep and holding, my middle finger quickly strumming, strumming, strumming. “Now I’m going to love my angel better than he ever could. In ways he couldn’t.”
“Yes,” she whispers shakily. “Yes, Daddy.”
“Forever.”
“Forever.”
Triumph blurs with lust and adoration and I flatten her sweet body to the floor, my composure gone in the face of her total devotion, which I can see, feel and hear is totally mine. I’ll never take it for granted. I’ll never takeherfor granted. With the crook of my arm around her little throat and her pussy welcoming me wetly, I give myself to release with a bellow, vowing to stretch the feeling in this moment to the end of time.
“I love you, Joel,” she moans.
“I love you, too, Haylo.”
EPILOGUE
Haylo
Ten Years Later
Isit in my cushy leather wingback office chair, legs crossed, the air conditioner blowing down from the vent above to stiffen my nipples. My last client just left for the day, and the sun is setting, bathing the office of my psychology practice in a hazy glow. Knowing my husband is probably taking the stairs two at a time to reach me, I set aside my notebook and tug the elastic band from my hair, shaking out the blonde waves that have grown long over the summer, nearly tickling the small of my back.
Joel loves it.
He loves everything about me and tells me every chance he gets.
I’m twenty-eight now. He’s forty-two.
People don’t stare at us with disapproval over our difference in age anymore. No, they stare in disapproval because we can’t keep our hands off each other in public.
Or private.
Anywhere, really.
I hear footsteps in the reception area, and my pussy clenches, anticipation prickling the hair follicles to attention on my arms. I lift my hips and slide off my panties in preparation for Daddy to walk through the door, which he does a moment later, rugged and sexy as ever in worn-in jeans, boots and a navy blue T-shirt that boasts the logo of his flight school, which he opened a decade ago just outside of Nashville, where we still live.
“My God, just look at you,” he says now. “My wife is so fucking perfect.”
“You should see my husband.”
“You’re about to see a lot of him.” He stops in front my chair and I tilt my head back obediently, waiting for instructions. Joel’s support and encouragement have given me freedom from the bonds of my past. Freedom to pursue who I want to be professionally. He’s made me the mother of two little boys, who look just like their father.
But I’m most fulfilled when I submit to him.
That’s my choice.
He makes sure to balance that decision by praising me, showing me gratitude, reinforcing my safety, loving me authentically. And so I am at his command in moments like this. Exactly where I want to be.
“Unzip my pants and put my dick in your mouth.”
I squirm with excitement in my chair, my toes digging into the area rug. I can’t get his fly undone fast enough, hiccupping a sob when his beloved length springs out, demanding attention. “Should I suck on it until you come?”
He closes his eyes, visibly enjoying the question in itself. The options I’ve given him. “Not today, young lady.” He threads his fingers in the back of my hair, drawing me toward his lap until I have no choice but to open my mouth and accept his big, salty weight, the enormity of him that still never fails to strain my jaw. “Look at me while you service it.”
I nod like a good girl, using both my hands to twist and stroke his trunk of flesh, rubbing my lips where they meet his balls, my choking noises briefly filling the room.
“Just like that, angel. Yes. Yes. Yes. Ohhhhh shit. Yes. My favorite corner of this earth is that little curve in your throat. Take me there. Take…me…there. Oh God. OhGod.”
His praise has me scooting to the edge of the chair to get closer, closer to my man, and he correctly interprets my actions as a green light to thrust harder, to make use of me, and that goes on for several minutes. Joel going for broke, then stopping with a wince, because he’s on the verge of ejaculating. Regrouping. Resuming the panting pumps.
