Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 28222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 141(@200wpm)___ 113(@250wpm)___ 94(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 141(@200wpm)___ 113(@250wpm)___ 94(@300wpm)
I lean down and rub my face against her smooth little cunt, swearing it glows in the darkness of my bedroom.
“Only Daddy will know how special you are,” I whisper, agonized by the pain in my balls. It’s spreading throughout my abdomen and twisting. Demanding I rut her. “Is that clear?”
“Only Daddy,” she repeats, making me a promise with her eyes as I loom above her.
And I hold on to that promise, humbled by it, and I begin feeding her inches.
Chapter Seven
Claire
I’m spellbound by the man looking down at me.
Draven. My Draven.
A lock of his dark hair spills at an angle in the center of his forehead, his muscles seething around me, that thoroughly inked chest rifling up and down, his teeth clenching as he fills me slowly. Slowly. At first, the sensitive flesh at my entrance welcomes the sturdy friction, but now that he’s getting deeper, flashes of hurt stab me in the tummy. Instinctively, my body attempts to adjust, shift, get away from the pain, but Draven stops mid-way, bends down and kisses me. Tenderly. So lovingly that I feel his commitment in the center of my chest.
The weaving of our tongues loosens the tautness inside of me and soon, my knees are easing wider to allow his hips. And he takes the permission, cradling the back of my head and looking me right in the eye while he finishes sinking, my sex cradling the entire ample weight of his shaft now.
“I can’t believe how stiff it gets,” I wail, tossing my head on the comforter. Pinned. Nowhere to go. Nothing I can do but withstand the low tickle that is slowly creeping up on me, making my stomach feel funny, the insides of my thighs tingling, clenching.
“I’ve never been this stiff for anyone but you,” he breathes between hearty pulls of my mouth, my lips puffy from how deeply and often he partakes of my kisses, unable to help it. Unable to do anything but consume my apparently singular taste. “And I’ll never get stiff again for anyone but you.” He tilts his hips forward and grinds inside me with a prolonged groan, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. “Ohhhh, sweet hell. My little girl is the holy fucking grail, isn’t she?”
I’m still having a hard time comprehending what my body can do.
But I can see and feel my boyfriend’s reactions in real time, the unholy length of him and how it ripples and jerks inside of me every time I breathe or shift my hips. I witnessed his awe when he included me as an ingredient in his creations. I’m not having a bizarre dream.
All of this is real.
I’m not some lowly stepdaughter who gets pushed around and abused.
I’m…special.
I’m this incredible man’s fantasy come to life. He’s shaking above me, muttering about miracles, moving his hips side to side to give me time to adjust. And when my body begins to sing, no longer in need of that consideration, I decide…I like it here.
Beneath my man.
Astounding him with what I make him feel.
Something he said earlier drifts to the front of my mind.
It’ll be a miracle if I make it one thrust.
That word…it drives me crazy for some reason. In response, my sex clenches around Draven and he chokes on a curse, the hand cradling the back of my head turning to a fist in my hair, pulling the strands in the most desperate fashion.
“How many thrusts can I have?” I trail my palms up and down his massive chest. “Will you make it more than one, Daddy, or am I too tight?”
A violent shudder wracks his powerful body, rattling the headboard against the wall. “Don’t call me Daddy right now. I’ll fucking pop.”
“You would deserve it,” I whisper, levering up slightly to lick his tattooed chest. “You’ve been so good to your little girl tonight.”
“Claire,” he pants, beginning to move, his hips jerking front to back as if he can’t help it. His body is moving of its own accord. “Please.”
He likes being praised, doesn’t he?
He is a chef, after all.
Or maybe he’s been blaming himself for the past so long, he needs this.
Needs me.
I slide my fingers up into his hair and urge him down on top of me, flush, his sweat-slicked body moving faster and faster, up and back, on top of mine. Muscle pressing and dragging over my younger, smoother curves, his urgency for pleasure swelling inside of me, stretching my walls. Making me a woman. His woman.
He pants wildly into my neck. “I have to be hurting you. I can’t…I don’t want to hurt my girl. But…oh God, you’re so fucking tight…”
“I’ll forgive you if it hurts a little,” I whisper, lapping at his ear. “You can’t help how small I am, Daddy. It’s my fault, isn’t it?”
“No,” he barks into my neck. Then, “Yes.”