Page 105 of My Big Fat Daddy Issues

I crawl down beside him, one step at a time, his hand on the back of my neck when I wobble, steadying me without breaking stride.

The shame should be scalding. I'm naked on a staircase with a belt around my throat, crawling naked next to my grandfather. But what I feel isn't shame.

I'm not thinking. I'm his. The simplicity of it sits in my chest like a held breath finally let go.

At the bottom, we cross the living room. Past the couch where he sat with our family hours ago. Past the dining table where my father asked him about cattle prices.

He opens the front door.

The storm rushes in. Wind and cold and soaked earth. The porch is slick, water streaming off the overhang in sheets. Beyond it, nothing. Just black and rain.

He walks me to the railing. My knees hit wet wood and the cold lights up my whole body. He stands beside me, one hand on the belt, the other running down my spine in a long, slow stroke.

"Stand up."

I do, gripping the railing because my legs are unreliable. He positions me against it and pushes my upper body forward until my ass presses back against him. His cock at full battle ready hardness again settles against the cleft of my ass.

"Know what kills me?" He grunts against my ear, the hard plastic of the mask against my ear. "That I get to be the one who does this to you. Out of everyone in the goddamn world, you picked me." His hand spreads over my stomach. "Your own Pawpaw. The man who taught you to ride a horse. Who watched you graduate."

His hand slides lower. Fingers dragging through my folds from behind, coating themselves, then pressing against my asshole. I shiver.

"And you let me do this," he says, pushing one finger into my tight ring of muscle and my nails dig into the wet wood. "You let me have this body." A second finger. The stretch burns and I grip the railing harder, my hips pushing back into the wicked pleasure. Wanting more even while the burn is blooming. "That's my girl." His voice lowers, gets smoother. "Greedy little thing. Pushing back on Pawpaw's fingers like you can't wait to get your little bunny ass stuffed full."

"I need it."

"I know you do." He works me open with slow, twisting strokes, his free hand pressing flat against my lower belly so I feel thepressure from both sides. "You trust me with every dark thing you've ever wanted." He pumps his fingers, in and out, spits down onto the crack of my ass and my whole-body jerks. "I'd burn the whole world down before I let anyone else touch you."

My throat closes and my eyes flood. Under the mask, under the game, under every filthy word and rough hand. That's what this is. A man who loves me so completely he'll become whatever I need. The predator. The Pawpaw. The stranger in the dark. All of it, for me.

He replaces his fingers with the blunt head of his cock.

"Deep breath, little girl. Pawpaw's going in your bottom."

I breathe. His head pops inside and I yell into the darkness.

The stretch is enormous. He feeds himself in slow, one inch at a time, and the burn crests and holds and crests again. He's so thick my body fights him, every muscle clamping, resisting, and he doesn't stop. Just keeps that steady, merciless pressure adding more saliva, another scoop of my juices on his fingers, spreading them on his shaft until something in me gives and he sinks the rest of the way in one long slide that makes him feel like he's at the back of my throat.

"Oh God." My forehead drops to my forearms. I'm full in a way that defies description, his cock so deep the ache radiates up through my chest.

"Look at you." He runs his rough palm up my spine, over the knobs of my vertebrae, and grips the back of my neck. "Bent over the railing with Pawpaw's cock buried in your ass. Soaking wet." His other hand slides between my thighs from behind and two fingers press down on my clit, rubbing, rubbing, then he brings them to my mouth. "Taste how bad you want this."

I open and suck his fingers clean as he pounds into me from behind as his hand leaves my mouth and wraps around my throat instead.

"That's it." He groans and pumps and pulls and pushes. "My brave, filthy, perfect girl."

The rain hammers the ground three feet away and the cold wind cuts across my bare skin and behind me he's a furnace. His chest against my back. His breath harsh through the mask against my neck.

I adjust my angle, tilting my hips. My legs shake.

"There it is." He feels me clench. Adjusts his grip, lifts my hips higher, and hits that same angle making things loop and tighten in my center. "Found what you need, didn't you?"

"Don't stop, Pawpaw. Right there. Please, right there."

"I'm not going anywhere." He holds the angle and drives into it. Each thrust precise enough to make my toes curl on the wet wood. "This ass is mine. This pussy is mine. Every sound you make out here in the dark belongs to me." His thrust bottoms out, his heavy balls swinging low with every thrust, smacking on my wet slit. "And I'm going to hell for how much I love that."

I scream.

"Fuck. Fuck." He buries himself deep and comes. Every pulse hot and thick, filling me, his whole body rigid and shaking behind mine.