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All of which involve stuffing her with my cock.
4
LOGAN
There's a small clipboard on a table at the side of the room. On it, the girls are given a checklist of things they do not agree to do. I sneak a glance at Layla's, surprised to find it almost entirely blank. No—or very few—holds barred.
I smirk.That's my girl.
I walk up behind her and draw her long, dark hair through my fingers, pushing it over her shoulder so it falls in front of her. She shivers, shoulders rolling against the sensation. Her hands are clasped behind her back, resting in the cradle of her spine. Her back arched, accentuating her perfect little breasts and that gorgeous ass.
My cock stiffens as I kneel behind her, one hand clenching restlessly in her hair, on her shoulder, the other finding its natural place on the crease of her thigh. She's waxed smooth, so there's only soft skin when I tease the very tip of her slit. She shivers, bites her lower lip, and spreads her knees a little wider to give me better access.
“Hands on your knees,” I rasp into her ear, noting how she shivers and obeys immediately.
Good girl, just as obedient and sweet as she always was.
I push my middle finger between her lips, and she gasps. She's so warm and already soaking wet. I can't help but smile again, kissing her cheek.
“Is this all for me?”
She whines quietly. “Yes, Sir.”
Sir.
She only called me that once when she was a kid, the first time her mother brought me home to meet her. Soon after, it was 'Mr. Russell', then, finally, Daddy, as affectionate and easy as if she were my own child. I loved her like my own daughter, even later, when my fantasies began to include things no father should ever do. I would have done anything for her. Until her mother fucked me over, and then I never saw her again.
Until now.
“Call me Daddy,” I murmur.
“Yes, Daddy,” she obeys, her soft voice barely audible.
Fuck, hearing her call me that hits me harder than I anticipated. I can't help sliding my fingers down farther, curling them so that they barely dip inside her warm, wet body. She mewls so prettily, drawing in another sharp breath when my other hand cups her breast and I squeeze her peaked nipple. She bites her lower lip, her knuckles whitening as she rocks back on her knees.
For the first time, I glance around the modest room. There isn't much in the way of furniture. Behind us, there's a small utilitarian bed, like something built into a sleepaway camper, with thin, clean white sheets spread across it. There's a small mat that she's kneeling on, and then shelves with lube, condoms, towels, and extra sheets above the side table where her checklist is.
I'll move her to the bed eventually, but for now, I’m just enjoying exploring my new toy. Desire coils around inside my stomach like a snake, audibly hissing with impatience in the base of my skull. I spread my fingers and slide them back until I can find and pinch her clit, rubbing slow circles as my other fingers tease her nipple the same way. She's so responsive, arching into my touch, her thighs twitching with the urge to draw together so she can grind against my hand.
My cock is so hard it's starting to ache, throbbing in time with the rush of blood in my ears. I bare my teeth against her jaw and pull away abruptly, shoving myself to my feet and circling around in front of her. My shoes nudge the inside of her knees, making her spread them out wider. She's impressively reactive, knowing exactly what I want without me having to verbally ask. Which is good, because I don't want to talk too much, in case she recognizes my voice. As much as I'd love for her to know it’s me, I can't take the risk.
I wrap her hair around my hand and yank her upright, sighing when she flattens her hands to my thighs and rubs them up to keep her balance.
“Open your mouth,” I command, watching as she parts her lips and tilts her head up.
If she weren’t blindfolded, those devastating blue eyes would be piercing right through me.
Would she smirk as she recognised me, as sly and full of attitude as she used to be?
Would she call me a dirty old man and taunt me for wanting to fuck my stepdaughter?
Or would she want it just as bad as I do, and whine, moan, and beg Daddy to fuck her stupid?
I have no way of knowing, not right now. So, I pretend she wants this as much as I do. I've thought about it often enough—some quiet nights when her mum was out with her friends and wasn't due back until sunrise at the earliest. Nights when the rain came down hard outside and she'd beg me to stay up watching movies with her because she didn't want to sleep on her own while it was storming. Of course, I couldn't let her sleep in the same bed as me because I didn’t want to risk waking up with her pressed against my rock-hard morning wood. That didn’t stop me thinking about it all the fucking time, though.
What would happen if she got brave and brazen enough to knock meekly at my door in the middle of the night while her mum was at work, hair messy and slim body draped in oversized clothes, even at sixteen? She'd curl up in a thick blanket and I'd hold her, trying desperately to sleep, while imagining her ass cradled perfectly up against my cock, her scent on my pillow, her body shivering from cold in my arms, just like she is now.
Swallowing, I bite back a groan. I can't help pushing my thumb between her full, red lips, pressing down on her tongue. She accepts it easily with another sweet sound, settling on her heels close to me, practically straddling my feet. I twist my hand, work my forefinger in, then my middle finger, just to see if she'll take them. She does, so eager to please, closing her lips and sucking on them hard.
