Page 57 of Stay Baby Stay

Tiny, delicate strokes...

I rest my forehead on the bed, concentrating on the pleasure Cal’s fingers are busy conjuring between my hips. With his free hand, he pets every inch of my skin he can reach, spreading his warmth and attention over me.

My clit pulses against the pads of his fingers as he rubs faster, presses harder. His touch evolves, becoming greedy. It’s not enough to caress anymore. He has to grasp and grope, pinch and knead.

I feel my muscles clench as he strokes me. Even my asshole puckers. I moan into the bedspread as my pussy tightens, coming in waves and currents.

Cal slows his movements, but doesn’t stop rubbing. In fact, he seems determinednotto stop.

“I can toy with your pussy for hours, baby,” he rasps. “I can rub this little clit until you’re nothing but a twitching, whimpering ball of desire.”

He makes good on his word by dragging another orgasm from me, and another. By my third orgasm, I’m barely a person anymore. I’m a cluster of nerves contained within a bag of bones, ruled by endless hunger.

Finally, he grants my clit a much needed reprieve. He runs his hand down my back, breathing heavily. I’m so slippery that I don’t even wince as he slides two fingers into my pussy.

“Baby, you’re soaking wet.” He thrusts his fingers in and out. “Is all this for Daddy?”

“Uh-huh,” I whimper, because it is for him. All of it, every drop. To ease his trip inside me. “All for you...to fuck me.”

I breathe the words, yet somehow, they reach his ears.

The fingers inside me stop moving.

“Don’t you dare say that if you don’t mean it, little girl.”

There’s a warning bite to his words, an unspoken threat that seems to say,don’t poke the demon. I have no doubt that Cal would gladly fuck my mouth again if I wasn’t ready to take him. But I am ready. After all these years, I finally want to let someone inside.

And I want that someone to be him.

“I mean it,” I tell him. “I want you to be the first.”

His breathing is ragged, like he’s waging a silent battle within himself. I glance at him over my shoulder. He wants to fuck me. The desire in his gaze is clear as crystal, but there’s something else there.

Restraint? Concern? Guilt? Yes, definitely guilt.

I rock my hips back, fucking myself on his fingers.

His jaw twitches. “Are you sure you’re ready?”

“I’m sure I’m sure, Daddy.”

He withdraws his fingers. The bed shifts. There’s a soft swoosh that I assume is Cal slipping his boxers off.

Then I feel it, the heat of his bare cock against my thigh.

“I’m gonna do my best to take care of you, Holly,” he says. “But you’ve gotta promise you’ll tell me to stop if I go too hard.”

“I will,” I say.

He angles his cock between my thighs, gliding back and forth along my slick folds. Each time the head of his cock strokes my clit, I feel a burst of pleasure. After a few more passes, he positions himself at my opening.

I whimper as he begins to push inside.

“Shh,” he coos. “Don’t want to wake the baby, now. Pretend you’re touching yourself and I’m lying beside you, pretending to sleep, rubbing my cock and imagining it’s your hand instead of mine.”

“You were rubbing your cock next to me?” I ask. His low chuckle is both a tease and a sharp spike of pleasure that spears through my body.

Knowing he was listening, knowing I aroused him to the point that he needed to touch himself...

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