Page 22 of Demon Daddy

Chapter 9

He doesn’t let up. He growls things in a language I don’t understand, but it turns me on even more.

My body is already trembling, the edge close again, but he keeps me there, riding the knife.

The thrusts are slower, more intentional. His breath is ragged against my mouth.

“Make me feel good,” I gasp. “Daddy, take care of me.”

His pace deepens.

And then he shifts.

He draws back, pulling me upright onto his lap. I straddle him now, knees weak against the stone, impaled on his cock so deep I forget where I end and he begins.

My thighs stretch wide around his impossible frame. My body struggles to take him, but wants it, craves it like oxygen.

His tail loops behind me, around my waist like a belt, keeping me tight to him, his long fingers splayed wide across my ass. His release seeps out of me, mixing with my own lubrication, and I slide up and down, back and forth against wet fur over hard muscle.

“I want to see your eyes when you fuck Daddy,” he growls. “I want to see you take all of me, willingly. Your horny, hungry cunt doing what it was born to do, bring me pleasure.”

I do.

I ride him, guided by his monstrous hands, every inch turning me into someone I don’t know. My breasts bounce with each thrust, and he watches them with deep interest. He presses burning kisses to the moving flesh, sucking and licking. “You fuck Daddy like a very good girl.”

I moan, because his dirty talk is on point.

“You’ll carry my seed. It will be in your cunt, down your throat, in your ass…you’ll wear it every day,” he snarls. “Your body will swell, and hell itself will never harm you or what we create together.”

That’s it.

I’m off again like a rocket, sobbing Daddy, nails raking his chest.

My orgasm doesn’t crash so much as detonate, and it takes my belly and my thighs and every last bit of my good sense with it.

And his eyes—his eyes—they’re not just glowing now.

They’re orange and yellow and red.

He roars, hips jerking once, twice. He spills inside me again, and this time it burns. Not pain. Magic. I feel it coat my insides like molten gold, and somewhere in my primal DNA, I know he’s found home.

The flames don’t die.

They flicker in his eyes as he stares at my heaving body, still impaled. His heat doesn’t fade. It lingers, smoldering deep in my belly, curling around something that wasn’t there before.

“You bear my heir now,” he says softly, almost in awe. He folds himself down to press his forehead to mine. “You’ve changed me. Nine hundred years, I have only known how to take. Now I want to fill you and then sit in front of the door with my teeth bared so no one can harm you again.”

“Against what? There is nothing down here but me.”

“If they come I will be waiting, Little Dolly. My good girl. My filthy, horny cunt. You make Daddy proud. I have never felt pride before, but it fills me now. Like a fire in my chest.”

The world outside can suck it.

I’m his. I chose him.

And I’ll choose him again.

Every time.