“You gonna be okay?” Drew asked. “Your brother... well, I'm never going near him again.”
“It'll be fine. He'll leave eventually when he runs out of steam,” Clarissa told him.
She waited another twenty minutes before receiving a text from Roan.
Daddy Roan: Return for your punishment.
Heat immediately flooded her core. She'd never expected to leave the high stakes birthday party horny.
Lissa: On my way.
The lights to his living room were off, so she quietly tiptoed in—and was promptly tackled.
“You have been a very bad girl,” Roan’s harsh rasp was punctuated by a quick bite on her shoulder. He propelled her against the door, tossing her jacket on the floor.
“It was my birthday. Tristan got what he deserved.” His hands were running roughshod over her skirt.
“That’s not what I meant. You naughty girl, no panties.” Roan found her slit and teased the plumping nub of her clit. “You dared play with my dick in front of your friends.”
“Daddy Roan, I thought you’d like it,” she wasn’t doing a great job of justifying anything because his wicked fingers circled her clit, his palm getting soaked in the process.
“I did like it, but I’m gonna like this more…”
As he kissed her roughly, he spread her thighs, lifting her up, supported by the door.
She caught her breath into his mouth when he sheathed his entire length in her bare pussy.
“Dirty girl. Soaked for me. Were you dripping the whole time, wishing you could ride my cum gun. Fuck my one-eyed snake?” He impaled her mercilessly on each sentence, rattling her teeth and trapping her between begging him to stop and begging him to never stop.
“Yes, Daddy. I wanted you in me.” She tore at her shirt, wishing her bra didn’t form another barrier. “I wanted you licking my tits while you blew your load in me.
“Beg for it.” His snarl was an avalanche.
“For what?” She was pretty sure she was already begging.
“Beg me to fill your filthy cunt with my hot, white cum.” Roan drove into her even harder.
She obeyed, she’d do anything he wanted. “Yes. I need your cum. Please.”
And just like that, he pulled out and carried her to the couch.
Her body, already on the brink of a massive Daddy Roan induced orgasm was shrieking at this sudden denial.
He set her on the couch of Sword-Sorceress Ill-repute, flicking her skirt back over her legs. Sitting next to her, he turned on the TV using the remote. The screen was still stuck on the last scene of the movie—horses included.
“Really, this movie masterpiece?” She stole the remote and turned it off. “Are we edging or punishing me?
He gave her a toothy grin full of masculine satisfaction. “Yes, I’m punishing us both. You for fucking with me like that, and me for letting this fake-dating catastrophe go on for as long as we did. So, how did all this come about?”
She over-fluffed the nearest pillow in irritation yet understood she’d better explain the vegan-party turn of events. “Tristan kept escalating, so we figured we’d beat him to the punch. Willow called my friends and gave them instructions. Avigayle and Lillian knew all about Tristan, and their guys followed their lead.”
“Interesting. What about Drew?”
“Other than being told to get rid of the labels and bring the chicken? Willow warned him that Tristan would be an asshole. We needed yours and his reactions to be genuine.”
“Tank was going to genuinely kill him,” Roan agreed. “Though you seemed to be having fun.”
“I was. It was like payback for every date of mine he’s ruined over the past decade.” Clarissa couldn't help smiling. Roan didn't seem truly upset at what went down.
