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Peach pouted. She shifted yet again, and he heard the telltale clink, then noticed the tiny flutter of her eyelashes as the pleasure no doubt coursed through her. “Oh,” she said. “Well, I don’t want to make things hard for you.”
Oh, you’re making them hard, babygirl.
“Hmm,” Isaac said, running the sponge down her back, a little lower this time, brushing the cleft between her ass cheeks, “I guess there are other ways I could penetrate you.” He swallowed. “Ways that don’tlegallycount as sexual intercourse.”
Suddenly, Peach’s eyes shone with hope.
“Get out of the bath, babygirl,” Isaac said, his voice deep and certain.
Peach did as she was told, holding onto the edge of the rolltop bath, lifting her gorgeous, full body out of it, and stepping onto his bathmat, dripping wet.
He could hardly believe how privileged he was, getting to be the man standing there looking at her right now. Those breasts, man. He could lose himself for days between them. Just place his head between them, kissing and licking and grabbing great big generous handfuls of her, the luckiest man in the world to be able to touch such a perfectly womanly woman.
But right now, this wasn’t a time for kissing and licking.
“I’m going to enter you,” Isaac began.
Dutifully, Peach got down onto her knees, opening her mouth wide for him.
But he stopped her. “I’m not going to fuck your mouth this time, babygirl.”
She looked up at him, confusion distorting her features. He reached down to her mouth, gently closing her jaw, then pushing his finger between her lips, just for a moment, to feel the warmth of her. She sucked him happily, as though he was a pacifier, and every trace of worry disappeared from her face. Slowly, as she sucked, she began rubbing her ass on the bathroom tiles, enjoying the sensation of the plug she’d been wearing for over an hour.
He knew she’d be ready by now.
“Stand up,” he instructed her, “and grab onto the sink.”
She did so, and he looked in wonder at the plug, still wedged perfectly between her cheeks. That cute little teddy bear still looked happy as ever to be there.
“Babygirl,” he said, “I’m gonna take your plug out in just a moment. And now that you’re nice and stretched from it, I’m going to put my cock in you.”
“Yes, Daddy,” said Peach, looking up at the reflection in the mirror over the sink.
Isaac could scarcely believe how beautiful she looked. Those pouty lips. Those sparkling blue eyes. That messy blond hair, curling in soft ringlets from the steam in the bath.
Then, he looked back down at her buttocks. So warm and inviting. He grabbed hold of his rock-hard cock and guided it firmly between her ass cheeks. The bubbly, oily bathwater acted as the perfect lubricant, and within moments, he was squeezing his dick into her tight, hot hole. It was heaven.
“You’re a good girl, Peach Trimble,” said Isaac, his voice strained as he slid deep into her private passage. “Daddy’s very pleased with you indeed.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Peach softly. “It makes me happy to please you.”
He noticed that her voice was strained too. Catching as she spoke. Breathless from the pleasure he was giving her.
He began to slide in and out, gently at first, as he got the measure of how much she could take. “That okay for you?” he asked, brushing her hair away from her face, so he could see her expressions clearly in the mirror.
“Mm-hmm,” she whispered. “You can do it harder if you want, Daddy.”
His cock swelled with excitement inside of her. “Alright, babygirl,” he said. “Hold on tight.”
He began thrusting in and out of her ass now, rough and hard and unrestrained, grabbing onto her hips so hard his fingers left marks on her. He fucked her as though it was the first time in his life he was truly learning how to live. He fucked her as though he finally meant it. He fucked her as though everything between them was real. And then, when he came, it felt like he’d never stop.
Chapter Twelve
PEACH
Normally,Peachwasalight sleeper. She supposed that had something to do with living alone in a rough part of town. Always keeping one eye open in case of danger. A squeak at the door. A creak of the floorboard. A scream of a siren. A yell of a drunk. There were so many noises in a bad neighborhood of a less-than-ideal city that even if you did feel safe enough to sleep, the racket would wake you up anyway.
Not so on Star Island. On Star Island, you heard nothing but soft ocean waves, crickets, and your own breath.
