Dominic
The air smelled of sex—hot, musky, undeniable.
At last I sagged forward, forehead nearly crashing to her shoulder, cock still twitching in her grip.
“You see that?” I whispered, voice ruined. “You see how much I need you? No one else could ever do this to me. No one could make me cum like that. Just you, Mommy. Always you.”
Her breath hitched.
She didn’t answer.
But her hand was still on me.
Sticky.
Wet.
Trembling.
And my cock—messy, glistening, drained but still swollen—rested in her palm like proof of everything I’d said.
Obsessive hunger wrapped around my spine, dangerous and deep.
I’d given her all of me in that orgasm.
My cum.
My control.
My obsession.
And yet I still wanted more.
So much more.
“Go upstairs.”
She quirked her brows.
“Read the story and say goodnight.” I licked my lips. “And then come back down so I can show all my thanks to your pussy with my tongue and cock.”
She moved her hand. “I. . .shouldn’t have done this—”
“It’s too late to say that.”
“It is not.” She grabbed my towel and wiped the cum into it. “I-I really shouldn’t have done that—”
“Then, why did you do it?”
“Because I was horny, your cock is big, and I wanted to touch it and. . .I felt powerful and in charge after. . .”
“After what?”
“After feeling restrained and fucking weak for so long.” She set the towel on the table. “But this doesn’t happen again. I-I shouldn’t have done that—”
“You’re lying to yourself—”
“No. I’m being a responsible adult—”
