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I wish I could place my hands on his chest and feel the coarse hair beneath my palms as he grips my hips until I feel the metal of his rings biting into my soft flesh.
Instead, I just keep my eyes locked on his face as I let more of my weight settle on him, and I stop holding myself up with the tension in my legs. My body rocks just a little bit to feel him rub up and down against my cotton-covered slit, and my eyes roll back into my head.
I shouldn’t be doing this.
He’s my dad, and he’s asleep. I’m taking advantage of him, but I can’t stop. The thoughts in my head drive my need. If this was anyone else, my morality would be pulling me back. Preaching to me about consent and how wrong this situation is.
But clearly my morality has gone haywire because what it should also be screaming at me about is the fact that he’s my father. He made me. Raised me. Taught me to ride a bike, to swim, to drive a car.
Learned how to braid my hair for volleyball, and made sure it was perfect before every game.
Who whistled the loudest when I graduated from high school and walked across the stage, and then again last year when I did it all over again for college.
All of these things should be pushing me so far from where I’m at right now, but they don’t.
I’m hellbent on giving in to this deviant behavior.
Slowly, I move a little bit more and pick up my speed as I rub my pussy all over him, chasing something. An orgasm maybe, but I’d settle just for the pressure in my chest to be relieved. He’s got me all twisted up inside and utterly consumed.
Is this what others feel like when they’re with him? Because if it is, then I don’t know how they survive. He’s like a drug I’ve never had, and yet I’m already addicted all the same. How do they only get him for a moment and then give him up?
How the fuck did my mother give him up? That’s the biggest fucking question because there’s no way I could. I don’t think anyone else could either, not if they got to experience him for more than just a night at Opal.
Imagine being able to fuck this man below me every day and night. How could anyone give that up? I’ll never know.
I don’t know if it’s bravery or stupidity that makes me do it, but whichever it is burns brightly and has me leaning over his prone form, pressing my palms into the hardened pecs of his chest finally. The wiry hair touches my palms, and I love how it feels against my sensitive skin.
I picture the beard burn I’d get between my legs as he devours my cunt, and I shiver. The hair scraping my thighs and labia as he feasts. Lips, tongue, and teeth. That’s how I picture him eating a woman out.
With the added stability, I start moving more, putting more pressure against us, and I feel his dick harden. “Fuck,” I whisper as I actually feel the way it seems like he goes from soft to attention, ready to sink himself into a warm body.
It’s like every crumb of intelligence leaves me, and all I can think about is him and me and our bodies. I don’t think about him waking up and how that plays out. I don’t think about dinner or any lingering repercussions.
My base biological instincts are fueling everything currently, and I give in. Sinking in and allowing my body to take control. There is no place for logic here and now.
I’m all in as I hump his lap and erection. Letting my legs tighten around him so I don’t slip off and can grind down harder. I wonder if I could slip his shorts down and free him. God, imagine what it would feel like to experience his unhindered cock as it stroked against my hand before settling against my pussy. I could justaccidentallylet my panties slip to the side, and I don’t even need to put him in. I’d be happy just to feel the head of him against my lips.
I’m spiraling, but I can’t seem to stop. It’s like a train on a collision course, but I wouldn’t even slow down if I could. I don’t want to. All I care about is getting closer to him. Crawling into him until we are two fires merging into one.
An unconfined inferno, a wildfire burning fast and harsh. Spreading rapidly until it overtakes everything in its wake and incinerates it, and when it finally has nowhere to go, all that will be left is ash.
Rubbing myself harder against the head of his cock poking through the material covering him has me ready to combust. I just need a little more.
Leaning down, his quiet breaths fan across my face, and I seal my mouth to his, finally feeling the way his lips taste. The roughness of his beard scratches my cheeks, and I trace the seam with my tongue, wanting more than anything to be able to kiss him deeper.
A moan leaves him, and I slowly pull back, afraid he’s going to wake up, but his eyes remain closed, and his breathing remains the same except for the quiet groans and the sudden shallow thrusting of his hips.
I think he’s dreaming. If he only knew what caused his dreams was happening in real life, but I take advantage of the situation and meet him thrust for thrust as we rock together.
I almost let out a yelp as I feel his arms raise up from behind his head, but they slowly move down until his fingertips press hard into my sides, indenting into the soft flesh found there. His grip tightens even more, and I feel the hard metal of his rings through my top, and it’s everything I imagined it would be.
“Fuck, baby. So good. You feel so good in my hands. I love how soft you are and how hot and wet you feel against me,” he’s mumbling, still in his dreamlike state, and if this is all I ever get from him, it would be enough.
It would be enough to be the object of his desires, even if only in his dreams.
CHAPTER10
MAVERICK
