Page 12 of Dirty Sweet Daddy

I can feel him trembling against me, his massive body coiled with tension. His control is fraying—I can see it in the tightness around his eyes, feel it in the way his fingers dig into my flesh. He wants me as desperately as I want him, but he's still fighting it, still holding back.

"Please," I whisper, framing his face with my hands, making him look at me. "I've wanted you forever. I know what I'm asking for. I'm choosing this. Choosing you."

His eyes search mine, looking for doubt, for hesitation. He finds none.

"If we do this," he says, voice rough with need, "there's no going back. No going off to college and deciding you want a college boy. I won’t be able to help myself, baby. Daddy is going to be very jealous, very possessive of this sweet little cunt.” He cups me between the legs, and I gasp.

“You understand that? You'll be mine. Completely. Belong only to Daddy.”

The possessiveness in his tone makes me shiver with anticipation. "I've always been yours," I tell him. "You just wouldn't claim me."

Something wild and primal flashes in his eyes at my words. His hand moves from my thigh to my throat, not squeezing, just resting there—a reminder of his size, his strength, how easily he could overpower me if he wanted to.

"Say it again," he demands, thumb stroking over my pulse point.

I know what he needs—what we both need. "I'm yours, Daddy," I whisper, watching his pupils expand until his eyes are nearly black with desire. "Only yours."

“Fuck it, I’m going to hell,” he says with a growl that vibrates through his chest, and then he kisses me again, all restraint gone. His tongue claims my mouth, his hands roam my body possessively, and I know I've finally broken through his walls. Finally made him see that this is right, this is real, this is what we both want.

I've won. And as his hands caress my bare skin beneath my dress, as his mouth devours mine like he's been starving for the taste of me, I surrender completely to the victory.

eight

. . .

Lucas

I've spent weeks building walls, constructing barriers, fighting what I wanted most. And with one whispered "Daddy" from those perfect lips, every defense crumbles to dust. Kate's body is warm and pliant against mine, her mouth sweet and eager beneath my own. I'm drowning in her—in the vanilla scent of her skin, the soft curves of her body, the little whimpers she makes when I bite her lower lip. Some distant part of my brain is still screaming that this is wrong, that she's too young, too innocent, that her father trusted me to protect her. But that voice grows fainter with each passing second, drowned out by the roaring of blood in my ears and the desperate need to make her mine in every way possible.

"Kate," I groan against her neck, my hips pushing involuntarily against her core. "We should stop."

Even as I say it, I'm sliding my hands up her thighs, bunching her dress around her waist, exposing her completely to my touch. She's bare underneath, just as I discovered moments ago. The knowledge makes my cock throb painfully against my zipper.

"No," she says, voice firm despite the breathlessness.

Her hands find my face, forcing me to look at her. Those hazel eyes are clear, determined, filled with a need that matches my own.

“My pussy is wet, Daddy. Please help me.”

I’m gone. “Gonna give my little girl what she needs, and what she needs is her daddy’s big cock inside her, isn’t it?” I lift her easily, carrying her to the oversized armchair in the corner of the room. She moans at my words, her eyes glazing over. I sit down, settling her on my lap so she's straddling me, her core pressed directly against the rigid length of my cock.

"Christ," I hiss at the contact, even through my jeans. "Do you feel what you do to me? How fucking hard I am for you?"

She nods, biting her lower lip as she experimentally rocks against me. Even through denim, I can feel how wet she is, her arousal soaking through to my jeans. The knowledge that she wants me this much, that she's this ready for me, makes me lightheaded with need.

"Every night, I touch myself thinking about you,” she confesses, her hands sliding under my t-shirt, exploring the ridged muscles of my abdomen.

"Fuck," I groan, my hands gripping her hips, guiding her movements against me. "Tell me what you think about. Tell me what you want me to do to you."

Her cheeks flush pink, but her eyes hold mine boldly. "I think about you holding me down. About your voice in my ear, telling me I'm a good girl while you…while you fuck me."

The crude word on her innocent lips nearly undoes me. I thrust up against her, grinding my cock against her center, watching her eyes widen at the friction.

"Say it," I command, voice dropping to a growl. "Say what you called me before."

She knows exactly what I need. "Daddy," she breathes, the word like a match to gasoline. "Please."

My control fractures completely. I capture her mouth in a bruising kiss, one hand moving between us to unfasten my jeans. She lifts up slightly to give me room, watching with wide eyes as I free my cock from its confines. It springs up between us, thick and hard and already leaking at the tip.