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To anyone who will never ever get over saying: Yes, Daddy
“Wyatt. Your mother told you I was coming.” My first thought is to tell him he’s welcome to come anywhere, preferably in or on me.
My annoyance is because there’s no way I could ever think of him as a father figure unless he wanted me on my knees and calling him Daddy.
Her belly is full of my cum, and I want to mark her in every other way I can.
“I’m trying to be a good man, Sophie.” I hum, pressing my nail into the hard muscle. “Must be hard when all I want is to be a bad girl.”
“I’m inside your tight, sweet pussy. How’d that happen, baby?” I shudder at his words. “You like to dream about me. I wanted to be a part of it.”
“I came in your slushie,” I tell her, squeezing my swollen head. “And you drank it all down like a greedy slut for my cum.”
“I’m going to fuck you so hard the next few days that you’ll be thankful we’re driving because you won’t be able to walk,”
“Like the sweetest poison. Something I won’t stop drinking till it kills me.”
“You’re gonna be the death of me. Cover that pretty pussy, baby. I don’t want anyone to see what’s mine.”
“I wasn’t acting like we were doomed. I just knew once I had you, I wouldn’t be able to stop. And I’m treating you like you’re mine because you are. I don’t care if a piece of paper ties me to someone else. I’ll burn that paper and throw it in the trash.”
“I’m gonna keep you like this,” he grits out. The short, erratic snap of his hips tells me he’s close. “Naked in my bed, pumping you full of my kids.”
