Page 30 of Sexting My Ex’s Dad

“Daddy.”

“That’s right.”

He sinks in one fraction deeper, not enough, nowhere near enough, and his mouth brushes mine while I tremble around him.

“Good girl,” he whispers. “Now take the rest.”

5

ATHENA

He’s inside me now, all the way, and there’s no part of me he isn’t touching. My thighs tremble around his hips. His hand stays wrapped around my throat, thumb stroking the frantic pulse there, his mouth hovering just above mine while he waits for me to stop trying to catch my breath around the stretch. There’s a weight to the atmosphere between us, a promise suspended in the inches of space he hasn’t filled yet.

“Good girl,” he murmurs again. “Now take me.”

I nod because language isn’t real anymore, there’s just the slide of his cock and the heat flushing up every nerve.

He pulls back so painstakingly slow it feels cruel, every inch of him dragging me open anew, then slams forward with controlled force that knocks the sound out of me.

“Fuck—Daddy—oh my god⁠—”

“That’s right, say it,” he groans, grit wrapped around silk in his tone as he thrusts again, and again, each stroke carving me out deeper, flattening me with the depth of him.

My hands wrap around the back of his neck, my nails dragging through the short silver at his nape, and he growls against my mouth when I tug. I feel the rumble in his lungs. I’m not even pretending I’m in control of anything—I’m just clinging to him while he works my body like it was always meant for his.

He finds that angle quickly, because of course he does—shifts his hips a fraction, tilts me by digging his fingers into my thigh, then he’s hitting the spot that makes my vision white out.

“Right there,” I gasp, voice breaking.

“Oh, I know,” he answers, white teeth flashing when he smirks down at me, sweaty hair falling against his brow.

He keeps drilling into me, deeper, steady, jaw clenching as the muscles in his forearms flex. His free hand slides down my body, palm scorching along my breast, pinching the nipple just to hear me cry out. He rubs his thumb in rough circles around it while he thrusts harder, his control cracking at the edges.

“You feel how I’m holding you open from inside?” he grits, breath hot against my mouth. “That’s how you were always meant to be filled.”

I whimper, nails digging crescent moons into his shoulders. My body answers him before my brain does, pulling him deeper, tighter, until he groans and thrusts harder, chasing the way I grip him.

“Squeeze Daddy,” he orders, and I do. I clench around him desperately and he swears, low and obscene. “That’s my girl. I can feel you fucking fluttering.”

He drags his thumb down over my lips, pushing between them. “Suck.”

I obey. My mouth wraps around his thumb, tongue running over his fingerprint, hollowing my cheeks for him. He hums, watching me while his hips start pounding in earnest, like he can’t decide which part of me he wants to conquer first.

“You’re wet everywhere,” he says, voice dissolving into guttural heat. “Mouth, pussy. Mine.”

He moves the thumb down, slick with spit now, and circles my clit while he pounds into me. My spine bows. My breath dies in my throat. His other hand is still at my neck, thumb on my jaw, forcing me to see how he’s wrecking me.

“Look,” he snarls, thrusting harder. “Look at what you begged for.”

I can barely hold his gaze. He’s so handsome it hurts. Silver hair damp with sweat, jawline sharp under stubble, pupils blown wide with feral heat, lips swollen from dragging against every inch of me. I’d cross any line to see him like this again.

“You know what happens next?” he asks, voice dropping into gravel. “I put you on your hands and knees, and I use you until Daddy’s satisfied.”

“Yes,” I manage, voice shaking. “God, yes.”

He bites the side of my neck in answer.

“Then say thank you.”