Page 61 of Daddy's Christmas Obsession
"Look at you," he murmurs against my skin. "So responsive. So perfect. Do you know how many times I've imagined this? How many nights I've stroked myself thinking about your taste, your sounds?"
"Tell me," I gasp as his teeth graze my nipple again. "Tell me what you imagined."
"I imagined you spread out beneath me just like this," he says, his hand skimming down my body to rest on my hip. "Desperate and wanting and completely mine. I imagined the sounds you'd make when I touched you here." His hand slides between my thighs "And the way you'd beg when I touched you here." His fingers brush my clit, and I cry out, my hips lifting toward his touch.
"Please," I beg, my hips lifting toward his touch. "I need you inside me."
"Not yet." His voice carries absolute authority, and something about the command sends heat racing through me. "First, I want to taste you again. Want to feel you come apart on my tongue before I claim you completely."
"But I already—in the bathroom—"
"I'm going to make you come so many times tonight that you lose count. I'm going to wring every drop of pleasure from your beautiful body until you can't remember your own name."
The promise makes me shiver with anticipation. Before I can respond, he's moving down my body, pressing open-mouthed kisses to every inch of skin he can reach. My ribs, my stomach, the sensitive spot just below my navel that makes me gasp and arch beneath him.
When he settles between my thighs, I'm already trembling with need. The first stroke of his tongue makes me cry out and arch off the bed, my hands fisting in the silk sheets.
But this time is different from the frantic encounter in the bathroom. This time, he takes his time, exploring every fold with methodical precision. His tongue traces patterns that make me writhe, alternating between gentle licks and firm pressure that has me climbing toward the edge embarrassingly fast.
"So sweet," he murmurs against my flesh. "I could spend hours between your legs and never get tired of your taste."
I try to hold back, try to make it last, but his fingers find a rhythm that matches the movement of his tongue, and I'm helpless against the onslaught of sensation. The orgasm builds and builds until it finally crashes over me with devastating intensity, my body clenching around his fingers as I scream his name.
He works me through every wave of pleasure, his mouth and fingers relentless until I'm boneless and gasping beneath him. When I finally go limp, oversensitive and shaking, he presses gentle kisses to my inner thighs.
"Perfect," he murmurs, his voice rough with his own need. "But we're just getting started."
"I can't," I protest weakly. "I'm too sensitive."
"You can," he says with complete confidence. "And you will. Because I'm not done with you yet, sweetheart. Not even close."
He moves back up my body settling between my thighs. I can feel the thick head of his cock pressing against my pussy, and the reality of what's about to happen hits me all at once.
"Look at me," he commands softly, his hand tilting my chin up. "I want to see your face when I take you for the first time. When I make you completely mine."
I meet his eyes as he begins to push inside, and the intensity I see there takes my breath away. This isn't just sex for him—it's claiming, pure and simple.
The stretch is incredible, just this side of too much. He's so much bigger than Aaron, so much more everything, and my body struggles to accommodate him.
"Breathe," he instructs, his voice strained with the effort of going slow. "Relax for me, sweetheart. Let me in."
I try to follow his instruction, focusing on the rhythm of my breathing as he works himself deeper inch by inch. Every time I tense, he stops, letting me adjust before continuing his slow invasion.
"You're doing so well," he praises, pressing gentle kisses to my face. "Taking me so perfectly. Such a good girl."
The praise helps me relax, and gradually he's able to sink deeper.
I feel split open, stretched to my absolute limit, completely and utterly filled. Every nerve ending is on fire, and I need him to move but I'm also afraid that any movement might shatter me completely.
"How does it feel?" he asks, his voice rough with restraint.
"Full," I gasp. "So full. Like you're touching every part of me."
"I am," he says with dark satisfaction. "Every inch of you belongs to me now. Do you understand that?"
"Yes," I breathe, and I mean it. I can feel the truth of it in the way my body has molded itself around him, in the way every cell seems attuned to his presence.
"Say it," he commands. "Tell me who you belong to."
