by Katee Robert
Humiliation lashes me and I whimper, arching my back, working my pussy with my fingers. Fuck, why is that it so hot to have him talk to me like this, like I’ve disappointed him? I don’t know, but I don’t want him to stop. “Sorry, Daddy.” The words just slip out. I don’t mean to. I really don’t.
Jonas pauses his idle stroking as if I’ve shocked him, and for a moment, I think I’ve taken it too far. He’s already pointed out our age difference in a way that suggests it bothers him. Calling him Daddy is just shining a spotlight on it and amping it up to a million.
“Get your fingers out of your pussy when I’m talking to you.”
The snap in his voice has me obeying instantly, but I’m me, so I only move them to my clit. I don’t stroke, but there’s no way he missed that I’ve obeyed the order to the letter, if not the spirit. Jonas tsks, and the disappointment in the sound has me turning my face into the pillow to keep from moaning out loud. Finally, he says, “Answer the question. Were you going to fuck my pillow next?”
“Yes.” I don’t even know if it’s true. It doesn’t matter. I suddenly want him to punish me, to pull on this delicious thread of humiliation until it undoes me completely.
“Thought so.” He brackets my upper thighs, a bare half an inch below my pussy, and squeezes hard enough to hurt. I jump a little and then shamelessly lift my ass higher. Offering myself to him, and there’s no denying it. I catch myself holding my breath as I wait for what happens next.
Jonas doesn’t make me wait long. He sighs as if already bored with this. “If you’re going to fuck something inadequate the second I leave the room, I’ll give you something with more substance to fill that needy pussy.” And then his fingers are there at my entrance. Not teasing, not doing anything but pressing lightly where I need his touch more than I need my next breath. When I freeze, he releases an exasperated breath. “Well, baby girl? You want to fuck something? Fuck my fingers.”
5
Understanding dawns, bringing with it another wave of that delicious humiliation. I hold my breath and ease back a little. His fingers slide into me to the first knuckle. Holy shit, he’s really going to make me do all the work. I have to work myself back onto his two fingers and if I thought what I was doing before is dirty, it’s nothing compared to this. He keeps a light grip on my hip and his blunt fingers stretch me as I take them deeper. The positioning is wrong to get me off, but it doesn’t seem to matter because this situation is so hot, I feel like I’m burning alive. I wedge myself onto his fingers until he’s as deep as he can go and then I release a breath.
This is happening.
This is really happening.
“Blake.” His fingers flex on my hip, the slightest betrayal that he’s at all affected by what we’re doing. “I gave you very clear instructions, didn’t I?”
I can barely think past the need thrumming in my blood. “Yes?”
“Apparently not.” Why does him sounding disappointed in me turn me on so much? I don’t know. I don’t know, but I desperately don’t want it to stop. Jonas’s finger flexes inside me. “You’re obviously going to make me do all the work in this, as well.”
“No?” He lightly slaps my ass. It’s more shocking than painful, and I start to jerk forward, only to have him follow me, shoving his finger deep into my pussy and bearing me the rest of the way to the bed. “Oh fuck.”
“Language,” he murmurs. “Now be a good girl and spread your legs wider. I want to see you.”
“Yes, Daddy,” I whisper. He doesn’t move as I obey, spreading my legs wide. The position lifts my ass a little, but he moves back enough that I’m able to. I expect… I don’t know what I expect. This entire moment feels like a fever dream, like I’m in an orgasm-induced blackout and surely it’s all fantasy and Jonas Barnett doesn’t really have his fingers in my pussy after I called him Daddy.
He eases his fingers out of me, and I can’t stop a sound of protest. But Jonas doesn’t stop touching me. He grips my thighs. “Get your hand off your clit, Blake.”
Immediately, I drop my hand. I’d rather he touch me anyway. He’s not doing anything to actively push me to orgasm, but the sheer sexiness of this moment, of this strange sort of humiliation, has me dancing on the edge despite that.
He lightly pinches my clit. I jolt, but manage to cut down the reaction before I dislodge him. He circles once and then goes back to my opening and wedges two broad fingers into me. “So fucking eager for it.” The way he says it, it doesn’t sound like a good thing. “Would you have done this in your father’s office? Bent over his desk, pulled up your dress, and soaked your thighs while I stroke your pussy?”
The image slammed into me and I have to bury my face in his pillow to avoid moaning out load. Except it backfires because I get a full inhale of Jonas’s scent. He squeezes my ass, fingers digging in. “That was not a rhetorical question.”
It would be so much easier to form words if he wasn’t tracing my G-spot with the tips of his fingers. I take in a shuddering breath. “Yes.”
“Shameless. Little. Slut.” Each word is compounded by a stroke.
This whole situation is so surreal. I can’t see him. He’s got a handful of my ass, but the only other place he’s touched me is my pussy. It’s like we’re strangers, except I don’t call strangers Daddy. I don’t call anyone Daddy, even my father. Apparently Jonas is the exception to that rule, because it just feels right for some reason. I turn my head to the side. “Tell me you didn’t want it that night, too.”
He gives my ass another light slap. “We’re not talking about me, baby girl. We’re talking about you and this needy pussy.” He keeps working my G-spot, edging me closer and closer to orgasm. I fight it. I have to. I’m suddenly terrified that the second I come, this ends, and I desperately don’t want this to end.
“I need your cock,” I blurt out.
“No,” he answers easily. “You haven’t done a single thing to earn it, and you won’t get your way by demanding it like a spoiled brat.”
I grip the sheets and fight to hold still. “Please?”
“Now she learns some manners,” he murmurs. “The answer is still no.” The mattress moves beneath us as he slides his hand down my hip and around to stroke my clit. The new position has his clothed legs touching me, and that little extra bit of contact is nearly as hot as the way he plays with my clit. “Be a good girl and come all over my hand, Blake. I know you want to.”
Confusion and desire and no small amount of shame work me just as intensely as Jonas does. Even trying to fight my orgasm, it’s already too late. I moan as I come, bearing down on his fingers. The orgasm keeps going and going and, holy shit, I’m squirting. He fingers me until I’m a puddle of flesh and bone on his bed, shaking and panting and whimpering. Only then does he stop touching me and sit back.
I can’t look at him. He hasn’t moved, and I can’t shake the feeling that if I break the silence first, this will end forever. And I desperately don’t want it to end.
Finally, he says, “Look at the mess you’ve made.”
I sob out a breath in what might be relief. “I’m sorry, Daddy.”
“Come over here and prove it.”
Elation gives me the strength to rise on my hands and knees to move around to face him. Jonas looks at me the same way he has been since I showed up unannounced on his doorstep—as if he’s half a second from tossing me out on my ass. I don’t expect the punch of lust in response. I really should by now.
He flicks an impatient hand at the floor by his feet. “On your knees.”
It’s only then that I notice the massive cockstand pressing against the front of his jeans. It looks almost painful, and giddiness has me rushing off the bed so fast, my legs give out. He catches my elbow, keeping me off the floor, and shakes his head. “Slowly, Blake.”
How am I supposed to move slowly when he’s giving me something I’ve spent six years pretending I don’t crave? It was so much easier when I didn’t see him, but all the longing of that
night at the Christmas party hits me at once, compounded by countless nights spent fantasizing about a different ending, stroking myself to orgasm with this man’s name on my lips. Again and again and again.
I sink to my knees between his thighs and he sits back and props himself up on his hands. Jonas glowers down at me. “We’re going to talk in a minute.”
“Okay,” I whisper. I slowly put my hands on his thighs, relishing the way the muscle flexes beneath the jeans in response to my touch. When he doesn’t stop me, I skate my touch up to his hips, and then to the button of his jeans. “In a minute.”
“Take out your Daddy’s cock, Blake. Show me how much you appreciate that orgasm. Tell me ‘thank you’ with that sexy fucking mouth.”
My fingers turn fumbling as I undo his jeans. He lifts his hips as I work them down, but that’s the only help he gives me. I take my time drawing out his cock, relishing how huge and thick and so perfect it is. I lick my lips and wrap my fist around him. And then he’s in my mouth and, fuck, he’s huge. My jaw already aches with the effort it takes to swallow him down. There’s no way I’ll be able to take him all. I fight down the instinctive flare of panic and suck him deeper. He curses softly, and I can’t help but open my eyes to look up at him.
Jonas’s expression hasn’t changed. He looks impatient and annoyed with his brows drawn together and his eyes hard. If not for the way he’s clenching his jaw, I might think he’s entirely unaffected.
It’s like throwing gasoline on the fire of my desire. I don’t understand why I’m reacting like this to his annoyance, but I don’t question it. I just suck his cock down until he bumps the back of my throat, and then I keep going. Still not deep enough. I can’t take any more.
He watches me with unreadable eyes and shakes his head. “Such a little slut. You’ve sucked so much cock, you don’t even choke on it.”
I ease off him and flick my tongue against the underside of his length. “Or maybe I just have no gag reflex to speak of.”
“You shouldn’t be speaking at all right now, baby girl.” He lightly grips the back of my head, guiding me back down. He’s barely applying any pressure at all, more a suggestion than anything else, but I suck him down again as if he’s holding me down and fucking my mouth.
In fact, I really, really want Jonas to do that.
I know better than to ask for it now. This forbidden game we’re playing has a script, at least in his head, and right now it involves me thanking him for my orgasm. Fucking my mouth until I cry doesn’t fit.
Maybe next time.
6
I stop teasing him and get to work sucking Jonas’s cock. I don’t want this to end, but he’s right—we have to have a conversation and the only way to get there is if he comes, too. The strange logic makes sense in my head and I wrap my fist around his base, working him in time with my mouth. Unlike me, he doesn’t seem interested in holding out for as long as possible. His grip tightens ever so slightly and then he asks in a rough voice, “Spit or swallow, Blake?”
I let my actions answer for me, picking up my pace until he curses and comes in my mouth. I drink him down eagerly. In fact, I don’t want to stop, so I keep at him until Jonas curses again and wraps his fist around my hair, pulling me off his cock. “That’s enough.”
“Is it?” I lick my lips and sit back on my heels. In the darkness of the room, this feels unforgivably intimate and strange. I’m still half-convinced that I’m in an orgasm-induced hallucination because there’s no way that Jonas is sitting here, staring down at me with his hair a mess and his cock still out. He looks at me with that same borderline-annoyed expression. I smooth my hands down my bare legs. What was I saying? Oh, right. “Is it really enough?”
Finally he growls. “Fuck, no, it wasn’t enough.” He doesn’t sound happy about it, but I don’t think Jonas ever sounds happy about anything. I kind of like that about him. He drags his hand through his hair and curses. “This is a mistake.”
“Probably.”
He shoots me a look. “You don’t have to sound so happy about it.”
“I just had your cock in my mouth, and that was after you made me come so hard, I drenched your bed. I’m incapable of sounding anything but blissfully happy right now.”
I love the way his brows lower at that. “You’re a pain in my ass.”
“We’ve already established that.” I am prepared to beg him to fuck me, but he’s obviously got something on his mind, so I force myself to be patient. Just like I force myself to keep my hands on his thighs instead of giving into the temptation to keep playing with his cock. “You said we’d talk.”
“Yeah, I guess I did.” He surveys me. “You want me. I want you. It was damned inconvenient six years ago, and it hasn’t gotten any less inconvenient since then. If Victor ever finds out…”
I snort. “You have a very strange idea about my relationship with my father. He doesn’t care who I’m with as long as I’m happy.” Jonas is ten years younger than him, and my father has made more than one comment about what a good man he is, if difficult. But then, Jonas isn’t asking for my hand in marriage. He just wants to fuck me, which I’m only too happy to negotiate around. “Regardless, it’s not like I run telling tales to him about my sexual partners. I don’t see why this would be the exception.”
He considers that. “Fair.”
I tug at the hem of his shirt I’m wearing. “This is separate from business, too. I’m not throwing myself at you in order for you to take this account. That’s not how I negotiate.”
“Good, because no matter how sweet your pussy is, I’m not saying yes.”
Strangely, it’s a relief that he’s so stubborn about this. I want to sleep with him, but bringing business into it will make the whole thing dirty in a way that isn’t sexy in the least. “So we don’t talk business tonight. We just fuck.”
“Blake.”
God, the way he says my name. As if I’m missing some very important point and he’s exasperated with me. “Yes?”
“Do you really think one night is enough?” Before I can answer, Jonas continues. “Stay the weekend. The storm’s supposed to last that long anyways, and it’ll be annoying to have this conversation again tomorrow when you realize you can’t leave yet.”
“Heaven forbid I do something to annoy you.”
He shoots me a look, but there’s a sliver of warmth in his blue eyes, as if I’ve amused him. “Now you get the idea.” He hesitates. “Things got a little out of control there. Are we good?”
I stare, but he’s obviously not joking. “Jonas, is there literally anything about my reaction that makes you think we’re not?”
“All the same, answer the question.”
I huff out a breath. “Yes, we’re good. The baby girl-Daddy stuff surprised me, but it’s hot as hell and I would like to keep using it.”
“Same,” he murmurs. Jonas looks like he’s fighting himself not to grab me and toss me on the bed, and it’s sexy as hell. “You have any hard limits when it comes to fucking?”
My brain skips and I can’t think of a single one, but he’s being so serious, I honestly try to think of something he could do that I wouldn’t be into. I swallow hard. “Um, no?”
Jonas’s eyes go intense. “So you’re saying that I can fuck any hole I want, any way I want?”
“Yes,” I whisper. The prospect has me feeling so hot, I’m surprised I haven’t burst into flames.
“You answered that awfully quick.” I can’t tell if that pleases him or not. “Surely you have some hard limit, Blake. Everyone does.”
“I want you to do anything you want to me.” Reckless. So fucking reckless, but this isn’t just any guy. This is Jonas Barnett. The man I’m not supposed to want. My father’s best friend. The specter in my fantasies that no real-life person can live up to. If I only get a weekend, I don’t want to have regrets. I want everything he’ll give me. Every single fucking thing.
He studies my face. “So if I want to call up my friend to
show you off and have you suck his cock like a good little girl, you’re into that?”
My mouth moves, but no words come out. Am I into that? I have no idea. I’ve had plenty of sex with plenty of partners, and even a few threesomes, but there’s something about the way he poses this question that makes it feel different. “Is that something you want to do?”
“Maybe.” He’s still watching me intensely. “Does the idea bother you?” I can’t tell if he’s trying to push me away or if he’s pulling out fantasies so dark, I didn’t even realize I had them.
Honest. I can be honest. “No,” I say the word like I’m trying it out. “Not in general.” That’s not the full truth, though. “For this weekend? I would rather keep things between just us.”
“Good. I don’t mind sharing, but not in this situation.” Jonas holds out a hand and I take it easily, letting him pull me up to straddle him. He palms my ass, bringing us flush together, and then his voice is in my ear, as tempting as the devil himself. “I like the idea of that pussy belonging to me, Blake. I take care of what’s mine, and for this weekend, your pussy is mine.”
Holy shit.
The idea of being owned by him steals my ability to make words. It’s just a kinky fun thing the same way that the Daddy pet name is a game. It’s a game I desperately want to play. I whimper a little and rock against him. “Why is that so hot?”
He exhales a shaky breath like I’ve surprised him. Hell, I’ve surprised myself, too. Jonas cups my ass, stilling me. “Because you’re a little slut, Blake. You play the sunny princess, but what you really need is to be fucked dirty and put in your place.” His cock is already hardening again and he exerts the smallest pressure on my ass, guiding me to roll my hips. “Tell me it’s not true.”
“I…” I stare at him. “It’s not true. I want to be good.”
“No, you don’t.” He lifts a brow. “That’s why you’re rubbing your pussy all over my cock right now without permission.”
