Page 106 of My Family

He strokes me slowly, drawing it out. I try to thrust up, but his weight keeps me pinned. The sensation is torture, just enough pressure, his thumb brushing the head, smearing the pre everywhere.

I bite my lip to keep from making noise, but it doesn't work.

"Daddy," I hiss. "Please."

He kisses down my neck. He worships every inch of my chest, tongue circling my nipple, then scraping over it with his teeth, and I almost lose it right there.

"Fuck," I whisper. "If you don't…"

He laughs against my skin.

"Patience, baby."

He lets go of my wrists and yanks my shorts and briefs down in one motion, leaving me exposed. The room is cold, but I'm burning up.

He kneels between my legs and wraps his hand around my cock, jerking me slowly, then fast, then slow again.

Every nerve ending is awake, raw.

"God, I love how you smell. All sweaty, all musky for me."

Fuck.

I reach for him, grabbing the front of his shirt. "Undress," I say.

He grins and pulls it off, tossing it aside. He's beautiful, all muscle, the way his skin tightens over his ribs when he moves, the trail of hair disappearing into his shorts.

He gets rid of those too, and now we're both naked, and I can't stop looking at him.

He's perfect, cock hard and leaking, the head flushed red. I want to taste him, but he's already moving, shifting me up the bed so my head rests on the pillow.

He reaches into our bag by the nightstand for the lube, slicking himself before coating two fingers and sliding them between my thighs, gentle at first, teasing me, then pressing in.

I gasp and try not to arch off the bed.

"Relax for me, baby," he murmurs.

He works his fingers in and out, scissoring me open, his other hand stroking my cock slow and lazy.

I'm losing my mind.

"You good?" he asks, voice soft.

I nod, desperate.

He lines up and pushes in slowly. The stretch is incredible. He bottoms out with a grunt, both hands on my hips, holding me still.

I bite my knuckles, but a sound leaks out anyway, a whimper I can't stop.

He waits.

Lets me get used to it.

Then he starts moving, shallow at first, then deeper, finding the angle that makes my vision stutter.

He's good at this. Perfect, even, because he pays attention. He knows exactly where to touch and how hard and for how long.

He worships me.