Page 40 of Mafia Daddy

“On your knees.”

The command is quiet but absolute. I sink down immediately, turning to face him. My shorts are still tangled around my ankles. Maxim hooks his thumbs in the waistband of his pajama bottoms and pushes them down. His cock springs free…

Maxim’s cock is thick, heavy, already leaking at the tip.

The sight of it makes my mouth water.

“Open,” he says.

I part my lips. He guides the head into my mouth, one hand tangling gently in my hair. I taste salt and clean skin as I swirl my tongue around him, taking him deeper. Maxim groans low in his throat, hips rocking forward.

“That’s it… good boy. Use that pretty mouth.”

I work him eagerly, hollowing my cheeks, taking as much as I can. My hands rest on his thighs, feeling the powerful muscles tense under my palms. He fucks my mouth with controlled thrusts, never forcing too deep, but never letting me pull back either. Saliva drips down my chin. My dick aches untouched and frustrated between my legs.

“Swallow every drop,” he growls. “Show Daddy what a thirsty boy you are.”

I moan around him as he swells. His grip tightens in my hair and he climaxes with a low, guttural sound, pulsing hot and thick across my tongue. I swallow hard, taking everything he gives me until he’s spent.

Maxim pulls out slowly, thumb brushing my swollen lower lip. His eyes are dark, satisfied, but still burning.

“Go back to bed,” he says, voice rough. “And do not touch yourself. Not even once. Understood?”

I nod, dazed and aching. “Yes… I understand, Daddy.”

He helps me stand, pulls my shorts back up, and presses a surprisingly soft kiss to my forehead. “Good boy. Now sleep.”

With that, Maxim playfully slaps the tent at the front of my shorts. He knows how aroused I am, and he loves that he gets to control that.

I walk back to my room on shaky legs, Zoop still clutched under my arm. My cock is aching for release, throbbing intensely now, my nipples still tight and sensitive from Maxim’s touch. Every step makes me more aware of how empty and needy I feel.

I crawl into bed, pull the covers over me, and squeeze my thighs together tight around my tucked cock. Maxim’s command echoes in my head.

Do not touch yourself.

I have no idea how I’m supposed to fall asleep like this… rock-hard, desperate, and utterly owned by the man sleeping just down the hall.

But I don’t touch myself.

I lie there aching, heart racing, mind replaying every second in the kitchen… and somehow, that only makes the need worse.

I’ll never get to sleep now.

Morning light filters through the huge windows, soft and hazy, when I finally drag my eyes open.

My head feels fuzzy, like I’ve been floating in a dream I can’t quite remember. The sheets are tangled around my legs, and my body feels heavy in the best and worst ways.

I stayed good. I actually obeyed Maxim’s command last night.

No touching.

No sneaking my fingers between my thighs even though I was erect and aching for what felt like hours.

It was torture.

I squeeze my eyes shut for a second, remembering the kitchen: his thick cock in my mouth, the taste of him, the way he’d looked at me afterward like I was both precious and completely his. My dick tingles at the memory.

And there it is, I’m hard all over again.