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“So good, Daddy.”
By now, I know the effect that term has on him.
Predictably, his eyes fire up to molten blazes and his cock rises in the boxer briefs he threw on to go make me breakfast.
“Jesus, little girl. You’re going to make me nut in my damn boxers before I finish feeding you, aren’t you?”
“Maybe.” I wriggle some more, knowing it makes my boobs jiggle.
“Goldie…honey. Have mercy,” he groans, even as one hand shoots out to fondle my breast.
God, this is the most insanely decadent breakfast I’ve ever had in my life. Feeling even more daring, I part my lips. “More pancakes, please, Daddy?”
His hand shakes as he feeds me another morsel.
Drunk on my power, I continue to tease him.
But Brock shows surprising resilience. Despite the monster erection tenting his briefs, he asks me questions about my gap year.
I regale him with stories about my trip through France, Italy, Montenegro and England.
“Italy where you picked up the bad language, little girl?” he asks, mock disapproval in his voice.
“Hmm, maybe,” I tease, then yelp when he pinches my nipple. “Okay, yes! There was a bunch of boys at the hostel I stayed at. They may have taught me a few choice phrases.”
He freezes. “A bunch?”
I nod. His eyes narrow to ruthless slits, a look of displeasure tightening his features. “Did any of them try anything?” he growls.
I shake my head. “Not really. I wasn’t interested anyway.”
He relaxes, goes back to fondling my breast. I squirm a little, my core heating at the almost casual way Brock turns me on.
“Good. Then I don’t have to hunt them down.”
He feeds me until I’m stuffed. Then he returns to the kitchen to grab his own plate.
While he wolfs down his own meal, I tell him about helping to patch up favelas in Sao Paolo and build schools in Costa Rica.
I watch him lift his coffee cup to drink and almost moan at how sexy he looks with his large hand cradling the cup and his long hair flopping into his eyes.
He eyes me over the top of his cup for several seconds, and I forget to breathe.
“Finish your juice,” he grunts.
I take the glass he holds out to me. Take a sip. And let a few more drops trickle down my chin and onto my chest.
With a feral growl, Brock dumps the tray to the floor and lunges for me. I’m flat on my back, my arms pinned above my head and his eyes locked on my juice-slicked tits.
“You want to send me back to prison, little girl? Because if you keep this up, I’m going to pound this juicy snatch until the cops break down the door and haul me off you to make me stop. Then what are you gonna do, hmm?”
“It’s your fault. You make it so good, Daddy,” I whine, widening my thighs so I can feel more of his monster cock between my legs. “I need it. Need you.”
He curses and squeezes his eyes shut, then he frees one hand. “Take me out, honey. Show Daddy where it hurts so I can make it better.”
My eager hand delves into his boxer briefs and I’m overwhelmed all over again by how thick he is.
I take him out and can’t resist pumping a few times.
