"Yeah?"
"Yeah. I want to be full of your cum."
Something about that—the possessiveness, the claim—makes me lose whatever restraint I had left. I pull out and flip her over onto her stomach, pulling her hips up so she's on her knees. "Is this what you want?" I ask, positioning myself behind her.
"Yes. Please."
I push back inside her and she moans into the pillow. From this angle, I can see everything—the curve of her spine, the way her body takes me, the marks my fingers are leaving on her hips. I start moving, building a rhythm that has her gasping with each thrust.
"Harder," she begs.
I give her what she wants. The sound of skin against skin fills the room, punctuated by her moans and my own ragged breathing. I'm not holding back anymore. Not being careful. Not thinking about anything except how good this feels.
"Touch yourself," I tell her.
She reaches between her legs and I feel her body tense as she starts rubbing her clit. The added sensation makes her tighter around me, and I have to slow down to keep from coming too soon.
"Don't stop," she whimpers. "Please don't stop."
"I'm not stopping. I'm never stopping."
"Promise?"
"I promise. You're mine now. Your tight little pussy is fucking mine." I emphasize the words with a particularly hard thrust that makes her cry out.
"Yes. God, yes. I’m yours. It’s yours."
We find a rhythm that's almost brutal in its intensity. Every time I think about slowing down, she pushes back against me, demanding more. And I give it to her. I give her everything.
"I'm close," she gasps after a few minutes. "I'm so close."
"Not yet," I tell her. "Wait for me."
"I can't?—"
"Yes, you can." I slow down just enough to keep her on the edge, and she makes a frustrated sound that's half sob, half moan.
"Please," she begs. "Please, I need?—"
"What do you need, baby?"
"I need to come. Please let me come."
"Then say my name."
"Asher—"
"No." I lean over her, my chest against her back, my mouth at her ear. "Like the fantasy I told you I was having about you when Julie caught me in the shower. Say it right."
There's a pause. Then, "Daddy. Fuck me, Daddy."
The word sends electricity through me. It's wrong. It's fucked up. It's perfect. "Again," I demand.
"Daddy," she says, louder this time. "Please, Daddy, let me come."
"Fuck." I start moving faster, harder, chasing my own release now. "You're such a good girl. Such a good little girl for your daddy."
"Yes," she moans. "I'm your good girl, Daddy.”
