No.
No.
“Need it, Daddy.Please.”
The initial stab of pain was fading quickly, and in its place was an ache I felt in every part of my body. Its blend with pleasure left behind a frenzy of sorts, and soon all I could do was feel.
“I’ll give you pain, baby, but I won’t damage you. Where is your lube?”
“No lube, Daddy.”
He spanked me.Hard.My head spun, and heat flooded my cock so quickly and so unexpectedly, I feared I was coming.
“Did you just tell me no?”
“Not being bad, Daddy.”I’m a good boy.“I don’t have any.”
“You’ve been fingering yourself with no lube?”
“Uh huh.” I spread my knees wider. “More spanks, Daddy? Please?”
His hand cracked across my butt. The sound of the slap was almost as perfect as the pain it left behind. His fingers twisted with the next hit, and all at once, I was falling apart. Air was an afterthought as I gasped against his chest, body shaking with muted screams.
“Look at you, baby, all flushed and fucked out on Daddy’s fingers.”
“St.. sticky.”
He squeezed my wet cock. “I love sticky little boys, Kitten. Are you going to make a mess for me?”
He tightened his grip on my cock, sweeping his fingers across that same spot inside of me over…
and over…
and over…
Until my tears were mixing with the blood I drew from his chest, and my neglected cock started to fill my undies.Daddywas the only word my brain remembered as I shook with pleasure. I clutched him hard, struggling to breathe while I withered against him. “Hugs, Daddy. Hugs. Hugs. Hu—”
“I’ve got you, baby.” He trapped me within the pocket of his chest, palming the back of my head and holding me tight. I convulsed in his arms as I came down from my high, sucking his nipple back into my mouth. “You were perfect, Kitten, such a good boy.”
I smiled.
Good boy.
Daddy was crouched downin front of me, running his hands up my thighs. He looked delicious in the suit he was wearing, and I couldn’t help but lean forward and lick at the seam of his lips.
“Yummy.”
Daddy smiled, and he let me play a little, remaining still while I nibbled and sucked at his lips. His flavor was a heady combination of sin and salvation that I desperately wanted to bottle. Subtle hints of cinnamon completed the unique taste, and his lips were always warm somehow.
I’d spent years fantasizing about how my Daddy would taste—about how he would smell and the way his skin would feel when I dragged my nails across it.
The details of him had become my greatest obsession. Each and every facet had trapped me inside a balloon of fervor, and I knew if something ever happened to him, I’d pop.
He cupped my cheeks, ending my playtime with a simple sound. “Daddy has to leave soon.”
I frowned.
“Don’t pout.” He tapped my lips with his thumb. “I’m coming back, remember?”