“I’ve got you now, baby,” I say, raking my hands down her thighs, pushing open her knees, wider and wider, exposing her pussy even more, drawing her feminine lips apart slowly, revealing the pink paradise beyond. “I won’t let you fly away. Ever.”
My obsession won’t allow her out of my sight, more accurately.
Ever.
When I go down on my knees in front of her, she sobs, the handcuffs clinking behind her on the metal interrogation table. “Brody, I…I’ve never…”
“Shhh,” I breathe against the inside of her thigh. “You have no secrets from me.”
I clutch her ass in my hands and draw her to the edge, inhaling the peachy scent of her cunt, kissing the parted flesh, once, twice, before sliding my tongue through that wet valley. Her gasp of surprise rings in my ears, the delicious taste of her causing my cock to leak against the fly of my jeans. I moan roughly and suction my lips over as much of her pussy as I can, dropping my tongue down on top of her clit and bathing it in fast strokes.
“B-Brody.”
London falls backward on the table, her cuffed hands keeping her back arched and her hips rear off the table helplessly, her thighs restless on either side of my head. She’s sensual and nervous at the same time, lifting her flesh to my mouth eagerly one second, hesitantly the next, until she finally gives in and begins pumping her hips up toward my tongue, broken moans falling from her lips, wetness releasing and coasting down my chin.
Christ, I can’t get enough. She’s smooth and sugary and hot, her clit swelling with every drag of my tongue, her sharp intakes of breath telling me when she’s on the verge of an orgasm. Her virginity is only inches away from my mouth right now and a savage, possessive part of me wants to stab my tongue deep and pop her little cherry, but I command myself to have patience, appeasing myself with the reminder that no other man will ever get near it.
“Oh. Oh my God.” One more lick and her pussy starts to quiver, her legs stiffening where I’ve rested them on my shoulders. “Brody.”
I close my lips lightly around her clit and apply careful suction, increasing the pressure until she’s crying out. “What do you really want to call me, little girl?”
“Daddy,” she heaves, then the storm breaks.
My tongue remains on her clit, polishing it determinedly while she finishes, her body shaking with beautiful spasms. Her tits are still out and they grow flushed, juicy in the rush of pleasure. My plan was only to give London relief, but she’s too beautiful. Too tempting. And I’ve been hungry for so long that I can’t help but wrap her hair around my fist and guide her down off the table to her knees, settling her in a kneel with her hands restrained behind her back, her eyes drowsy from her climax, her nipples in two, tight puckers.
I can’t get my dick out fast enough. I’m grunting and panting, my balls drawn up into my body, prepared to release. No sooner do I have it in my hands than does the come spear up, hot and thick, from my balls. With a groan of her name, I stroke my cock once and paint a stripe of white across her face. And when she opens her mouth and sticks out her tongue, her expression unmistakably excited, I unload the rest in hot, greedy spurts, my groin straining under the intensity. The perfection of the moment. Putting my claim on this girl.
Making her mine.
Finally, the throes of my climax ease off and I cup her chin, dragging a thumb through some of my spend and glossing it over her lower lip. “That’s a good girl.” I slide my thumb in and out of her mouth, my breathing still labored. “You know what comes next.”
My words make her tremble so violently she can barely get to her feet, even with my help. But she does. She does and she bends over the table eagerly, moaning excitedly as I yank up the back of her skirt and crack my palm across her ass. Several times. Watching her glistening pussy lips shake with every slap.
“Daddy,” she whimpers. “Daddy.”
“That’s right.” I kick her feet wider and deliver a resounding smack, one on each cheek. “I satisfy the front, then I remind the back who all of this belongs to. Understand?”
“Yes,” she shrieks into the table. “Yes.”
“Are you going to behave now?”
“Yes, I promise.”
“Good.” I soothe the stinging flesh on her ass with a slow, gentle massage that slows her breathing and loosens her tense muscles. “So very good.” I slide her panties back up her legs and fix her skirt, finally uncuffing her wrists, standing her up and turning her around.
God, she’s a vision, visibly dazed, teeth marks on her bottom lip.
“Are you going to take me home now?” she whispers.
“I have a better idea.”
6
London
Brody brings me to an amusement park.
Even after he buys our tickets and leads me through the massive entrance, I still can’t believe it’s happening. The sounds of children screaming on the roller coasters awakens hope and excitement that has lain dormant in my belly for so long. I want to go watch the brightly-colored cars fly down the tracks and loop upside down. I want to watch for hours.
And Brody seems content to let me, sitting beside me on a metal bench, the two of us unmoving in the midst of the chaotic crowd.
He doesn’t say anything when I gape, tracking the progress of a car full of people as they are slowly cranked to the top of an incline and dropped, picking up enough momentum to complete a sideways spiral. My pulse races, my fingers itching for my notebook. So much time passes that I don’t realize it’s fully dark outside until Brody brings me a soft pretzel and a Coke.
“Are we actually going to ride one of the coasters or just stare at them all night?” he asks me playfully, biting into his own pretzel.
I’m momentarily distracted by the sight of his straight white teeth burying in the dough, his muscular throat working to swallow the bite. Even the hand holding the pretzel is hypnotic, because I remember what it feels like on my skin. On my bare knees, my cheek, my backside.
What exactly is happening between me and my stepfather?
We are seriously attracted to each other. That much is very, very obvious.
But it runs deeper than that. Even now, I want to climb up onto his lap and have him stroke my hair. I want to tip my face up and get a kiss. I want to whisper that forbidden D-word and feel him grow aroused. And it would feel like the most natural thing in the world.
It’s not, though.
It’s not.
I have to remember that.
This man is married to my mother and he’s already given me two orgasms.
We’ve kissed. He’s used his mouth between my legs, on my breasts.
My body is already desperate for more. Not only for the physical release, but the emotional comfort I get from his touch, the connection between us.
“What are you thinking about?” Brody asks, lowering the pretzel to his thigh.
Until he asks the question, I don’t realize I’ve been staring at him.
Specifically, his magical mouth.
Behave. He told me to behave.
What happened between us shouldn’t happen again. I might have a non-existent relationship with my mother, but I’m not the kind of person who wrecks a marriage. It’s definitely time to start reigning in my behavior.