by Jessa Kane
Is this really happening. “B-but…you’re not angry? Or—”
“I’m only angry that you didn’t show yourself sooner, Emery. We could have been together for years,” he rasps. “Years.”
“I’ve only been legal for one.”
“I would have waited forever.” He reaches out, dragging his thumb across my lower lip, his eyes darkening with undisguised hunger. “At the very least, I would have tried my damnedest to wait. Fourteen, huh?”
Relief and desire are making me dizzy. Clarke loves me. He was waiting for me. All this time, it wasn’t my imagination. “It’s complicated.”
His hand leaves my face and I hear him unzipping his pants. Wetness rushes between my thighs on command, but I manage to form my thoughts into words. “At first, I looked up to you. Like a father figure. You would take care of me. You would come save me and be a better father than my own. But…” My breathing harshens. “Something changed after a while, I started to…to think of you when I touched myself. And then you were my father figure and…more. I knew it was wrong, but I couldn’t stop. Those two roles got wrapped up together.”
Clarke’s fingers spear into my hair and massage my scalp. “And I became your Daddy.”
I nod, my neck losing power at the utterance of that word.
He holds it up. “You’re obsessed with your Daddy.”
My thighs clench together and a shudder passes through me. “Yes.”
Clarke growls. “He’s just as obsessed with his little girl.”
I’m suddenly starved for the taste of him. The taste of his pleasure. I’m craving it like nothing else, so I rise to my knees on the edge of the bed and reach into the opening of Clarke’s unzipped pants, taking his thickening flesh in my hands. As I stroke him, Clarke brings our mouths together and guides me through a slow, cherishing kiss, his hips rolling toward my grip in time with his seeking tongue. “Can I suck you here, Daddy?”
His head tips back on a groan. “How long have you been imagining yourself doing that to me?”
“A very long time.”
I whisper the age to him and a rope of come shoots across my lips. “That will be our little secret,” he says, gruffly, guiding himself to my lips with shaky hands. “Get my cock wet with your innocent mouth, angel. Show me what you dreamed about doing to Daddy, even when it would have gotten me arrested.”
The moment his thick staff slides between my lips, I’m overcome with his taste. It’s the most incredible texture and essence I’ve ever encountered. It causes a change to come over me, much like last night when Clarke tasted me. Suddenly I can’t get enough. I’m moaning around his stiffness, massaging him in both hands and trying to take him as deep as possible. The head of his sex caresses the back of my throat and I whimper loudly, my thighs flexing involuntarily on the bed. Need need need.
The door to my room opens and still I can’t stop bobbing my head, cramming my mouth and throat full of Clarke. I hear him shout, “Leave us, Karen,” and maybe I should be embarrassed that I’ve been caught in this intimate act by my friend…but I’m not. The click of the closing door means nothing to me. My eyes are tearing and moisture is leaving my mouth to drip down my chin and still I suck as hard as I can, hollowing my cheeks and listening to Clarke’s harsh pants, his seed trickling down the back of my throat in tasty little rivers.
“Stand,” Clarke orders, his voice choppy, his powerful hands fisted in my hair. “I can’t take any more.”
He doesn’t understand. I can’t stop. His pleasure is my addiction now. I whine as Clarke eases my head away and yanks me to my feet, whirling me around to face the wall.
“Which picture is your favorite?”
“Th-the one of you reading the paper. On the balcony in Italy.”
I’m propelled toward that section of the wall, Clarke crowding me from behind. “Would you stand in front of this picture and play with your little clit, Emery?”
“Yes,” I whisper. “All the time.”
His open mouth drags up the side of my neck. “Do it now while I fill you full of come.”
“Okay, Daddy.”
As he lifts the hem of my sleep shirt over my head, I sense his pause. “Is this my shirt?”
Without looking at him, I nod.
“I’m glad you stole it,” he says in my ear, licking my lobe, snagging it with his teeth. “I like knowing a piece of me was wrapped around you. Now get those fingers on your clit.”
My legs are like rubber, but I do what I’m told, looking at the picture I’ve mooned over a million times, only wonder of wonders, the man of my dreams is standing behind me now. I slide my middle finger between the folds of my womanhood and gasp as I make contact with the hardened nub. I bite down hard on my lower lip as I start to harass it with quick circles. I’ve only been stroking myself for a matter of seconds, before I feel Clark’s huge member tuck into my entrance. My breath suspends itself in my lungs, but I keep touching myself. How can I stop when his inhales and exhales are rasping in and out at the back of my neck?
His right hand cups my mouth, the other wrapping around my waist to lift me higher against his lap—and then he drives his rock-hard inches deep inside me, trapping my scream with his hand. “Daddy has needed you for so long,” he grates. “And you were right here, fingering your little cunt to pictures of him while he suffered uptown.”
“I’m sorry,” I gasp into his palm, trying to balance on my tiptoes.
“Do you know what I was thinking in that picture while I read the paper?”
I shake my head, my thighs beginning to tremble. “Keep touching your pussy and I’ll tell you.” My fingers blur back into motion and he resumes speaking. “I was wondering how the hell I can be in love with someone I can’t see. I thought I was losing my fucking mind. I almost cut that business trip to Italy short so I could get back to you—the scent and feel of you.”
His hips begin to slap deliberately, slowly against my bottom and my eyes roll back in my head at the delicious friction. My being is already beginning that delicious descent into a climax, my pulse walloping, lower body melting.
“I’ve found you now, Emery, and I’m never letting you out of my sight again.” His hand slides down from my mouth to the front of my throat, squeezing firmly. “If you ever leave me again, I’ll go fucking insane. I’ll take a wrecking ball to everything I own. You are what I need to survive, and if you think you’re obsessed, angel, just watch. My own obsession already far surpasses yours.” He stoops down and drives back up into me, bringing my feet off the floor and there I am, dangling in his arms as he pumps inside me, one hand around my throat, the opposite arm wrapped around my waist. Slap slap slap. He fills me over and over, his pace quickly becoming frantic and furious. “It’s going to take me decades to recover from this morning,” he growls. “Finding out you’ve been cleaning houses when you should have been spoiled rotten in your Daddy’s care. I can’t stand it.”
I throw my head back onto his shoulder, my back arches, thighs writhing. I can’t get any leverage to achieve my orgasm and all I have to do is whine “Daddy” and I’m thrown face down onto the bed, Clarke pressing me into the thin mattress. He holds open my thighs in a punishing grip and shoves his thick rail of flesh into my hole without cease, groaning his pleasure into my tiny room. The ancient, rusted bed creaks loudly, bumping into the wall with every thrust of his hips and I once again hear the door to my room open, probably Karen being worried about me with all the noise.
I’m beyond caring about the interruption, though. I need relief. My fingers sneak down between my thighs and I press down on my clit, tweaking my hips side to side, grinding down—and Clarke’s manhood finds that spot deep, deep inside me and I pop. I scream into my pillow as a rush of satisfaction courses through me.
“That’s a good little girl,” Clarke pants into my neck. “Now hold still while Daddy gets rid of the pain you caused. Feel how much my cock needs that fuck-tight pussy. All day and all night.”
“Sorry
, Daddy,” I gasp. “I don’t mean to make you hurt.”
“Don’t be sorry, angel. Just stay sweet for me. Just like this. Keep letting me do these bad things to my little girl’s body.”
Instinct makes me tighten the walls of my femininity and I almost have another orgasm when Clarke jerks on top of me, cursing as his drives start going faster, turning desperate—and finally he finishes with a shout, sweat from his forehead dripping onto my back, his teeth sinking into my shoulder blade.
“Mine,” Clarke says, breathing heavily. Then louder, “Mine.”
I stare up at the pictures above my bed, a secret smile curving my lips as my obsession—the man I love to the point of madness—gathers back his control on top of me. As if I’ll ever let that happen. My whisper is barely audible in the dim room. “Finally.”
EPILOGUE
Clarke
Two Years Later
My obsession with my wife knows has no end and knows no boundaries.
Sitting in the back of my limousine, I scroll through the thousands of photographs of her stored in my phone, landing on one of her wearing nothing but black stockings and my come splashed across her stomach. Judging I’m still ten minutes from our home, I take my cock out and abuse it in my fist with great, groaning strokes, my gaze never leaving the picture.
“I’ll be inside you soon, little girl,” I mutter thickly, willing the driver to go faster. Get me home to Emery sooner. Today is one of the rare days she didn’t come in to perform her duties as my “assistant,” which generally include me feeding her a lunch of caviar and champagne, before she slips off her panties and rides my dick.
Thinking of my wife’s tight cunt milking me up and down, I grit my teeth and tip my head back, my hand on my cock going faster, faster. My God, I love her. My angel, my Emery and my little girl, all rolled into one sweet, savvy package.
And she is savvy, my wife. She wasn’t at the office today because her private tutors gave her an exam. The one she’ll need to earn her Bachelor’s in Business.
When I brought her home two years ago and declared she was never leaving, Emery insisted she be allowed to attend college. She wanted to learn, so she could become a true help to me at Carroway-Silver. So I created my own college and named it after her. Emery University. She’s the only student and her tutors—women, every last one of them—teach her everything she needs to know from the safety of our penthouse, while I watch on a closed-circuit camera that connects to my phone.
Knowing I need to stop beating off so I can save my come for Emery, I zip myself back into my pants and close my photos, going to the live feed of her in our home. My thumb swipes left, left, until I find which room she’s in. She’s sitting on the edge of her bed in our playroom. We have two of them.
One is for our toddler son, Emanuel.
The other is strictly for Daddy and his little girl.
Call the games between me and Emery wrong or right, we require them. No form of judgment can change what turns us on and completes us. Emery was robbed of a proper upbringing, so while in the daylight hours, she’s my equal, my wife…at night, I give her the youth she missed out on. We do it our way—and no one can take it away from us.
My driver pulls to a stop outside the building and I don’t wait for him to open my door. I’m already out and striding toward the entrance, breezing inside and going straight for the elevator. My cock is leaking in my pants, in need of my wife’s pussy. This rampant fuck-lust for Emery has only grown more and more obsessive over the last two years. It grows almost unbearable to be away from her for even a couple hours. I’ve arranged round-the-clock nannies for our beloved son because my need for her knows no schedule. It’s never-ending.
I don’t want it to end.
As soon as the elevator reaches our penthouse, I step off and unzip my pants again, shouldering off my jacket and letting it drop, even though one of the nannies—Annie, a British woman in her sixties—is sitting on the couch while my son presumably naps. She’s well used to my single-minded hunger for Emery and has witnessed the outcome several times. It echoes off the walls of our home at all hours. Her screams of rapture, my possessive demands.
When our son gets a little older, we’ll be forced to be quieter—or soundproof sections of the penthouse—but not yet. And thank God. I have a particular need to make her call my name today. It has been two years exactly since she walked into my office and changed my life. Made me a better businessman. Renewed my passion for what I do. Made me want to live every day to the fullest. All because of my extraordinary soul mate.
My dick is throbbing as I stop outside our playroom door and knock lightly.
“Come in,” calls Emery.
I open the door and step inside the pastel pink room, covered in furry pillows, beanbag chairs and stuffed animals. There she is. The object of my obsession. She’s lounging on her belly in a bunch of pillows on the floor, reading a book and twisting her hair around her finger.
“Hi, Daddy,” she chirps, rolling onto her back, giving me a glimpse of the virginal white panties under her short plaid skirt. “You’re home early.”
I kneel down beside her and tickle her ribs. “Maybe I missed you.”
She giggles and her thighs fall open. Just a little, before she smacks them closed again, a flush rising on her cheeks. “Um…I think I did well on my exam.”
“Good girl.” My hand still lingers on her side and I slide it down now, over the curve of her hip, letting it rest high on her bare thigh. “I knew you would do great.”
“Thank you,” she whispers.
My fingertips creep just beneath the hem of her skirt. “Is your mother home?”
“No, Daddy,” she whispers, wide-eyed. “Why?” Reassuring her with a smile, I part her semi-resistant thighs and ease myself down between them, grunting when my cock grinds down on her pussy. “W-what is that?”
“Shhh. It’s just the part of me that appreciates the woman you’re becoming, angel. And I want to show you how proud I am of you. You’ll make me even prouder if you let Daddy wrestle with you for a while. Just like this. Would you like that?”
“I don’t know…”
I roll my hips and force a smile, though I suspect I’m baring my teeth like a wolf. “Isn’t this fun? You’re making me feel so good after a hard day.”
She tucks a thoughtful finger into her dimple, a line forming between her brows. “I do like making you feel good, Daddy.”
I’m dry humping her sexy body now, the soft cradle of her pussy driving me to the brink of eruption already, even through the barrier of her panties and my boxers. Speaking of which, we need to do something about that. My need is too vast for obstacles. Distracting her with a flick of my tongue against her gasping mouth, I take out my dick and lay it against the soft cotton, leaving only one layer of material between me and heaven. “That’s because you’re my sweet girl, aren’t you?”
“Oh my gosh.” Her back arches, body twisting her teeth chewing on her lower lip. “I’m feeling funny, Daddy…”
Once again, I shhh against her mouth and use my dripping cock to deftly push aside the crotch of her panties and slide my tip inside her drenched cunt. “Oh, that’s not good, angel. Only certain little girls get that naughty feeling between their legs.”
Nervous blue eyes flash up at me. “Bad ones?”
“Yes,” I say sternly, unbuttoning her tight, white blouse and watching her tits bound free, watch them bounce as I drag my cock up and back in her wetness. “There’s only one way to get rid of that feeling, Emery. There’s only one man who can do it for you. No one else.”
“M-my Daddy?”
“That’s right. This is how it has to be.” I bury myself inside her with a drawn-out groan and she sucks in a breath, feigning a struggle beneath me on the floor. It takes no effort for me to pin her down, wrists locked above her head. “We won’t tell anyone as long as you save that feeling just for Daddy.”
“Always and forever,” she whispers, when I lea
n down to kiss her. “I love you.”
My response resonates in my voice and deep inside me, my heart squeezing in my chest as I look down at my obsession, my wife, my soul mate. “I love you, too, angel.”
THE END
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