Twisted Ink (Beauty In The Ink, #1)

by A.M. McCoy

Me: You’re both fucking grounded and in the doghouse. If she sucks the sauce off her hot wings like a cock, I’m done. I can only break so many noses in one bar on my own. Dallin: You can also get her out of there at any point and bend her over literally any surface she chooses on the way home and fuck her brains out for being such a naughty girl.

“There’s romance in creating something with your own hands for someone you love.”

I tried. I wanted it written on my headstone someday, that I did really, really try to keep my eyes above the waist as he stood unashamed and unobscured in front of me for the first time. But I failed. I was a failure. A dirty, pathetic, aroused, and horny failure that let my eyes fall on the thick cock swinging between his legs, not even hard, yet still intimidatingly thick.

“I’m choosing you,” D yelled loud enough for me to hear as he slid his nighttime glasses on. “Right now, right here, right this moment, I choose you.”

“Daddy,” I growled, running my hand up the long line of her spine to her hair and grabbing a handful. “Right now, I’m your fucking daddy.”