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Murph’s breath stutters out, his hands fumbling on my knees and pressing them up to my shoulders, his hips moving in monstrous thrusts that rattle my teeth and create a gathering of tingling nerves inside of me. They spiral faster with every punch of his lower body, every scrape of the chaise across the floor.
I’m at his mercy. There’s no moving. No fighting the oncoming release for either of us. I sense that if I asked him to stop right now, he wouldn’t be capable of it…and God help me, there’s something about that pushing me closer to the drop off. I’m his toy. I’m designed to give him pleasure, always have been, and he’s finally taking. Taking. Enjoying.
“You have a new Daddy,” he growls loudly, his hard inches ramming deep and holding, grinding. “Is that clear? You don’t call anyone else that name from now on. Not even your father. You’re my little girl. I give the pleasure and punishments. I protect you. I fix your problems and fuck you hard afterwards, Angelica. Now you just spread your little thighs and accept it.”
It’s like an explosion going off.
Daddy.
Yes.
Yes, it’s never been spoken aloud. It’s never even crossed my mind. But it’s how I’ve thought of Murph since I can remember. He’s the man in my life. He’s everything rolled into one. My lover, my guard, my everything. It all clicks into place and the tide won’t be held at bay any longer. It’s so intense that I let out a hoarse cry, the tiny muscles between my legs contracting, pulsing around Murph’s pumping arousal.
“Motherfucker,” he groans, so loud that his voice echoes in the studio, his erection beginning to spasm inside of me. His eyes go blind and he pins me more securely, his hips slapping in a frenzy, his grip bruising on my knees. The sounds that come out of him make my pleasure more intense, make me soar higher, the bliss wrapping me up like a rattlesnake and tightening.
“Daddy,” I whine, licking his neck, kissing his flexed jawline.
His hoarse shouts fill the space, along with the sound of our sexes slapping together, the creaking of the furniture beneath us. Hot liquid fills me in big bursts, overflowing almost immediately and turning my thighs sticky. Until finally Murph lets out a final yell of my name, his bulk losing tension on top of me. “Jesus,” he pants in my ear. “This perfect pussy. Took me so deep. Jesus. Can’t believe it’s real. Can’t believe you’re mine.”
“I’ve always been yours, Murph,” I breathe, stroking his face, dropping my loose limbs to his hips, my heels resting on his lower back. “Always—”
“Open this fucking door,” comes a voice from outside the studio.
Both of us stiffen.
It’s Joe. It’s my father. And his best friend is still planted inside of me, semi-hard, his spend slicking my inner thighs. My gaze flies to Murph, my pulse kicking into a sprint, waiting to see what his reaction will be. I see the flicker of guilt in his expression and my heart sinks. No. No, I want him to claim me in front of my father. Not physically. This was never the plan. But I want him to say out loud to Joe that we’re together. I want him to be unapologetic about it. If we’re going to work as a couple, he’ll have to let go of his guilt. Being with me isn’t a sin. It isn’t wrong.
If he doesn’t believe that, we’re doomed.
Murph rolls off me with a curse, zipping himself back into his pants, shoving a frustrated set of fingers through his hair. “Goddammit, Angelica. You just had to tempt me. Had to shake those pretty tits in my face, didn’t you?” Eyes closed, he tips his head back. “What the hell am I supposed to tell him now?”
My heart forms a little fissure, my throat tightening with emotion.
Before I can second guess myself, I’m lunging to my feet and dressing as fast as I can with shaking hands, moisture blurring my vision. It doesn’t take me long to put on my sports bra and shorts, patting my hair into place. I turn on a heel and march toward the door, wanting to get as far away as possible from Murph’s indecision. Just moments ago, I’d never felt more like I belonged and every second he paces with that horrified expression, the glow fades a little more.
A hand around my elbow stops me in my tracks. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?”
I rip out of his hold. “Away from you.”
His brows slash together, a hint of panic filtering into his eyes. “There is no getting away from me, little girl. Didn’t you hear anything I said to you?”
“Yes, I did. You’re the one who forgot what you said.”
“What does that mean?”
