“What color panties?”
“No panties.”
His low growl tickles the inside of my ear. “Dirty girl.”
I laugh softly. An email notification pops up on my laptop screen—a message from my mom. I open it and skim just to make sure it’s not an emergency. Apparently, my dad sent her an email apologizing for being such a shit husband and father. He’s working for a bank in Japan, and has taken Brian’s advice about getting a hobby, signing himself up for Ikebana classes—the Japanese art of flower arrangement. He tried contacting me a while ago, but I didn’t respond. I’m not sure when I’ll be ready to mend that bridge. I wish him the best, really.
Now that I’m pregnant, I don’t have room for things like resentment inside me.
I rest my hand on my belly. At first, I was scared to tell Brian when I found out I was carrying his baby. I was afraid he’d say it was too soon; we’d been married less than a week. But the light that ignited behind his eyes when I finally mustered the nerve burned all my w
orries away. He scooped me up in his arms, kissed me breathless, and said, “You’ve made me the happiest man alive today.”
We bought our new house on the beach in Tamarama, on the outskirts of Bondi, a few weeks later, and I’m still in the process of decorating the nursery. Some nights I look out at the ocean and can’t believe that this is my life. Then Brian wraps his arms around me, and all I feel is gratitude that I get to live every second of it.
“What would you be doing right now,” he says, “if I was in there with you?”
I bite the end of a pen and lean back in my seat. “I would push aside my computer and hop up on the desk.”
“Then what?” I can practically hear his arousal through the phone.
“I would spread my legs and lift up my dress.”
His sigh crackles through the receiver. I know he’s rubbing his thigh the way he always does when he’s getting hard. It’s one of the things I’ve learned about him over the last year. When I told my friends about Brian, a few of them said I was crazy for moving in with a man I’d just met. But the better I’ve gotten to know Brian, the deeper in love I fall. His wealth is a perk, I’ll admit, but I was glad to learn he’s also a philanthropist, giving away millions to charities every year. He might be a shark in the boardroom, but at home, he’s my devoted Daddy—unless we’re playing a particularly aggressive game of Have You Been Bad?
“Are you touching yourself now?” he asks.
I glide my hand past my belly to rest on my mound. “Not yet.”
“Do it,” he says. “Tell Daddy how good it feels.”
I reach beneath my dress and find my pussy already slick. My breath catches as I start to rub my clit. Pleasure teases up my spine, making my nipples harden. I whimper softly into the phone. “Daddy, it feels so good. I wish you were here to see how wet I am.”
“I’m here, sweetheart.”
I turn, and he’s there, standing in the doorway to the playroom, watching me. He’s always watching me, and I’m always dying to fall under his gaze. I swivel my chair so that I’m facing him, and his gaze darkens as he catches sight of my pussy.
Brian approaches, leaning in to kiss me, as he hooks his hands under my arms. I’m suddenly lifted onto my desk—which thankfully, is large enough to hold both me and my laptop. He sits in my chair and spreads my knees, rolling closer.
“Your pussy is every bit as gorgeous as it was the first night you showed it to me.” He bunches my dress above my belly, then plants a kiss next to my navel. “How’s my boy doing?”
“He’s demanding fried chicken and strawberry ice cream for lunch.”
Brian smiles. “I’ll have Liz order us takeout. But first, Daddy needs to cover you in cum.”
He unfastens his pants and takes out his cock. I continue to rub my clit, moaning as he drives inside me with one thrust. His mouth latches onto mine, catching my cries as he fucks me good. I grab onto his tie as we hold each other’s gaze, moving in tandem, stacking the tension high.
My clit throbs; my muscles clench. I come around Brian’s cock. He rides out my orgasm, then pulls his cock out, glazing my fingers and pussy with cum.
“Who does this pussy belong to, little girl?”
“It belongs to you, Daddy.” I lick him off my fingers. “I belong to you.”
~