Page 71 of Feast

When his groin was pressed up tight against her ass and there was nowhere else to go, he leaned down and, draping himself across her back, whispered, “Watch me fuck you.”

Then he straightened and started to move.

Maddie clung to the sink, her hair in her eyes and her tits bouncing uncomfortably against the faucet as he hammered into her. She didn’t care. He felt so good inside her, hot and hard, with just the right amount of friction. With her legs together she was extra snug, and though thanks to his talented tongue he was moving easily, it still felt as though he was breaching new territory on every stroke.

“So fucking tight,” he muttered, his eyes leaving hers for a moment to watch himself thrust into her, and she closed her eyes to try to picture it.

“Uh-uh,” he said, and before she could open her eyes his hand was in her hair, yanking her head back hard enough to make her scalp sing.

She managed to swallow her scream, emitting only a hard grunt, and frantically sought his gaze in the mirror once again.

“You don’t look away,” he ordered, his hips picking up speed. “You look away and I stop. Got it?”

“Yes,” she said, forcing the word from her arched throat.

His hand twisted a half-turn in her hair, making her scalp scream again. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, Daddy,” she wheezed, keeping her watery eyes focused on his in the mirror.

“You gonna come?” he asked, fucking her fast and hard so the slap-slap-slap sound echoed in the small, mostly tiled room.

She tried to nod, but he was holding her so tightly she could barely move. “Yes.”

He let go of her hair so abruptly her nose almost hit the mirror, then he was draped over her, his hands tunneling under the sweatshirt she still wore to find her breasts. He squeezed, her nipples stabbing into his palms, using them as leverage as his hips hammered.

“Fucking do it,” he growled, his cheek pressed to hers, his eyes almost black in the mirror. “I want to feel that pussy choke my dick, feel it suck the come right out of me. You want that? You want my come?”

“Yes,” she sobbed, pushing backward to try to get more of him inside her, so close she could almost taste it. It was a struggle to keep her eyes open, but she didn’t dare look away—if he stopped, she’d surely die.

“Tell me,” he whispered.

“I want your come inside me,” She was grunting, soft little uh-uh-uhs with every pump of his cock. “Fill me up with it, Daddy, make me your dirty girl.”

“Fuck,” he muttered, his hands clenching on her tits. “You close?”

“So close,” she cried, remembering too late that she was supposed to stay quiet. “I need—”

“I know what you need,” he growled, and lifting her slightly, jammed one hand between her pelvis and the sink. He fumbled for a second, digging between her tightly clenched thighs, his fingers snagging on her pubic hair. Then he found her clit and rubbed, the fast and furious pace matching the thrust of his hips, and with a scream, she came.

She barely felt it when he slapped his hand over her mouth, hardly noticed when her head rapped against the mirror. Her pussy felt like it was exploding, spasms going on and on as he continued to fuck her. Through the fireworks going off inside her she felt his thrusts grow jerky and erratic, felt him get harder inside her. “Fill me up,” she moaned from behind his restraining hand, and with a muffled roar, he did.

She wasn’t sure how long she lay across the sink, dazed and disoriented, but when he pulled out of her, the muffled thump and muttered curse had her opening her eyes.

“Are you okay?” she asked groggily, turning her head to see him slumped against the wall behind her, his pants still around his knees and the condom dangling off the end of his penis.

“No,” he rasped, chest heaving under the Henley. “Fuck, that almost killed me.”

“Yeah,” she agreed and rested her sweaty forehead on the mirror. “Ow.”

“What’s wrong?”

“My head hurts.” Unclenching her fingers from the sink, she reached up to check, and stared numbly when they came away streaked with red. “I’m bleeding.”

“Shit.” He shuffled forward as quickly as his half-off pants would allow, concern in his eyes as he peered at her head.

“Is it bad?” she asked.

“I don’t think so. There’s a little cut, right at your hairline, but the bleeding has stopped.”

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