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I can’t help it.
I can’t contain my wicked nature at all times. It’s taxing.
For a few moments, I accept this as my punishment. The pain. The fact that I’ve just had the barrier of my virginity torn by a man with a far above average penis size—it must be nine or ten inches! But then…oh then, the pain begins to recede and another issue presents itself.
Now it’s feeling…good.
Something about him calling himself my Daddy makes it easier to be in pain right now…because instinctively, I know he’s going to make it all better. That’s what Daddies do. These thoughts are twisted and they stray from the proper path of a young lady, but they invade my mind nonetheless. They are relentless.
Everything about this moment is filthy and wrong and clandestine. This man is over a decade older than me. He’s making me pay for his generosity with my body. The rough usage of it. And that should anger and disgust me. But those threads of hedonism inside of me are beginning to glow golden, instead, and I find my ankles hooking at the small of his back, a low, purring whimper coming from my throat.
Oh. He’s so deep.
I’m a staked claim, my bottom flattened against the cool side of the island, his testicles pulsing, pulsing against the lips of my sex, his long shaft swollen and huge inside of me. Our breaths are shallow, staccato notes, followed by his growled accusation. “Virgin.”
“I tried to tell you,” I whisper.
And that’s true. I did. But I didn’t try very hard.
I have to be honest with myself and admit…I didn’t want him to stop.
I wanted this experience. With him. This beautiful mysterious man who is obviously housing a lifetime worth of pain and anger. I wanted to feel all of his wrath inside of my own body. Wanted to unburden him for a time. More scandalously, I needed to know what this is like. I’ve fantasized about sex for years, petting myself beneath my blankets in the darkness, trying to figure out a way to dull the ache. I never succeed. Will he? Will he help me? What if he can cure me and I won’t spend my days trying to subdue the rebellious hellion living inside of me?
“Whose child is that?” Sebastian chokes out.
“Curtis is my little brother.”
His curse is vile. He’s angry. So angry. But when he slides his hands around to grip the bare cheeks of my backside, I know he doesn’t want to stop. Even if he hasn’t moved since that first initial invasion, he’s stiff as a pike inside of me. He’s sweating. Muscles flexed. Aroused.
I aroused him.
Made that big part of him hard.
And that shameful part of me, the part I’ve spent years trying to keep in check, wants to revel in that. Wants to see what else I’m capable of doing. Wants to play.
“Why did you stop, Daddy?” I whisper in his ear.
I feel his groan in every single one of my bones, my toes curling in excitement. “I stopped because you’re tighter than fuck and I’m going to blow after one pump.” His powerful chest heaves against me, so masculine with its swells of muscle. I can’t help leaning down to trace the starkly flexed sinew of his shoulder with my tongue—and it makes him thrust. Hard. Ramming me back into the island. “No. No. I’ll come.”
It takes me a moment to respond, because that rough movement of his hips has me seeing stars, the muscles in my belly contracting excitedly, the breath suspended in my lungs. “Isn’t that the goal?” I gasp, moving my open mouth to his ear, brushing the lobe with my bottom lip. “Just let me get a quick one, you said. To take the pain away.”
“What about your pain? Don’t you think I would have done this differently if I’d known you were fucking innocent?” His head falls into the crook of my neck, his hips rolling in a slow grind. “Ahhhh Christ. So innocent between these legs.”
“But not everywhere else,” I whisper, letting my secrets slip in the intimacy of the moment. What do I have to lose? “On the inside, I’m bad. I have bad thoughts.”
“No.” He lifts his head, bringing our foreheads together. “No, I know what bad looks like. I see it every time I look in the mirror. You’re nothing but sweet.” His exhale is shaky, his eyelids drooping to half-mast. “Sweet and tiny. And goddammit, I can’t hold back anymore.”
I writhe on his impalement, gasping at the sensations that course through me, converging on that little bundle of nerves at the apex of my sex, making it tingle and swell. “No one said you had to hold back.” Our mouths are right on top of each other now, gasping. Panting. “Don’t hold back, Daddy.”
He growls us into a kiss.
