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“So good,” she says, her voice a whimper.
“I want you to play with yourself,” I say into her ear. “I want to feel your pussy clenching around me as you come. Do you want to touch yourself?”
“Yes,” she says, her hand on her clit as I keep fucking her hard.
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, Father,” she says, her voice dripping with desire, and she has never sounded so fucking hungry in her life. Her legs tighten around my ass as I keep fucking her hard, her fingers rubbing herself as I pound hard into her. My arms are on her legs for leverage until I move them toward her waist, wrapping her into them so that I can be as close to her as possible, her body flush against mine.
She meets my strokes with wild, untamed fury, until her body shakes under me, her fingertips scratching the skin on my chest.
“You feel so fucking good,” I whisper into her ear. “Do you want me to finish inside you?”
“Please,” she says, her eyes open as she looks up at me. “Please, fuck, please, Father, come inside of me, I…”
She trails off as she moans, her body shaking as her muscles spasm under me. My body jerks hard, my muscles contracting as I pour myself into her, her legs wrapped so tightly around me that I can hardly move after I finish even though it feels like my knees are about to buckle when she leans her head against my chest.
She pulls her head away from me. I brush her hair back over her shoulder as we both catch our breath, her gaze on mine for what feels like a long, long time. “Thank you, Father,” she says softly.
I try to swallow down the knot in my throat. I don’t feel bad about doing this, but I don’t know if she’s aware I can’t do it again. One time is enough.
One time is too many.
I let her gently down so she can stand. She slides the bottoms of her bikini up her legs as I look for my shirt. “You’re okay?” I ask. “Not in pain or anything?”
“No,” she says, flashing me a smile. “You were very gentle. And I…thank you. Seriously. I don’t think I realized that was exactly what I needed.”
I open my mouth to answer her, but the front door clicks open and I hurry to put my shirt on again. I know Misha and Luke aren’t idiots, so they probably know we’ve just been fucking; they can probably tell from the afterglow, the messy hair, the fact that the kitchen definitely smells like sex.
It’s obvious they know something from the way they look at each other.
“Before you say anything,” Trine starts. “It was my idea, I…”
Rei waves her off. “We can talk about that later,” he says. He sounds upset. “We have news.”
“What happened?” I ask.
Misha and Rei exchange another look, this one absolutely devoid of any humor. “I’m so sorry, Trine,” Misha says. “Tom Souter is dead.”
The End.
