Page 16 of Rough Daddy
The idea has my dick leaking cum. The image of her spread out on my kitchen counter, toy buzzing between her thighs while I tell her where to touch, how far to push it in…
"You're drunk. I'd be taking advantage—"
"I know exactly what I'm asking for." She steps closer, close enough I can count her fucking eyelashes. See the texture of her brown irises as they expand and contract. "I’ve never used one. I need… guidance."
This train is going off the fucking tracks.
Snatching the toy from her hands, I toss it into the living room and it falls with a thunk onto the wooden floor.
"That one's no good."
It’s way too fucking big.
No way am I letting her play with something that could take away that sweet cherry she's got saved for me. When I finally figure out how to get inside her without breaking her, I want to feel every inch of that tight cunt gripping my cock like I’m stuffing ten pounds of sausage into a one pound casing.
That’s not going to happen. I’d never forgive myself if I hurt her. But I have to keep the fantasy alive.
"Got other ones. Better," I say. The fire racing through my veins is burning me alive from the inside out. Her curves are calling to my hands, and if I’m not careful I’ll grab her, and then she’ll never want to see me again. "I’ll pick one. Then I’ll give you the fucking guidance you need."
Her breath catches. "Here?"
"Right fucking here. Don't move."
Half staggering to the back hall where I've got the rest of the shit the party lady left, I pull the closet door open with such force the top hinge pops from the frame. I fall to my knees and dig through the box until I find what I want.
I heave out a hot breath when I grab something that will work. It’s no bigger than my middle finger, straight, and doesn't look like a realistic cock. Because the only cock this girl is ever going to see is the one ready to snap in half inside my jeans.
Stomping back to the kitchen, I tear open the package and bark, "Kitchen counter. Now."
She stares at me for a long moment, then backs up to the granite island, skirt riding up soft pale thighs as she hops onto it. I salivate like a hungry wolf.
"Good girl," I growl as her knees squeeze together, a shy blush deepening on her cheeks.
Second thoughts, maybe? Too fucking bad.
My sweet little Instagram angel is going to put on a show. And this one’s just for me.
Six
Beau
My cock is straining against my zipper hard enough to leave permanent damage. "Before we start, there are rules."
"Rules?" She’s breathing fast. Keeping her thighs together, her little toes curling as her eyes stay pinned on me.
"Rule one: You do exactly what I tell you. No hesitation." I tap the blue tip of the device under her chin, watching her lashes flutter. "Rule two: You tell me how everything feels. If I say, ‘touch it to your clit and tell me how it feels,’ I don’t want you to just say, ‘Good,’ or some shit. I want how it feels, down into your soul."
She nods, and Christ, the way she's looking at me makes me feel like a fucking king. Like I'm some kind of authority on pleasure instead of a bastard who's been jerking off to her content for months.
Little does she know I have no more experience with this than she does. What woman would want to put herself in dangerwith me? What woman would risk being bruised by clumsy fingers, or broken by the weight and strength of a bear?
Until her.
“Spread your legs, princess.” I push the vibe into her hand, then step back. “Hike up that skirt and get those legs wide.”
She hesitates, only for a second, then her knees part, and Christ on the cross… the world starts to spin. I can’t breathe, I can’t think. I juststare. The damp patch on her plain white panties is impossible to miss. It’s calling to me. Fuck, I cansmellher, I swear it. I want to dive in and feast.
“Look at me,” I husk, and when those wide, glistening Irish-coffee eyes snap up, I have to hold back a roar. “Touch it against your pussy.”
