Chapter 72: The Morning After
The silk sheets were cool against her bare skin. She lay on her stomach, kicking her feet slowly in the air, watching the neon signs bloom like exotic flowers in the deepening blue beyond the window. A stuffed rabbit, plush and white, was tucked under her chin. Julian had given it to her after her bath. It smelled of his cologne.
“Daddy?” Her voice was small, a little muffled by the rabbit.
He was standing by a dresser, pouring two fingers of amber liquid into a crystal glass. He turned, leaning against the furniture, and took a slow sip. The way he looked at her—a lazy, possessive appreciation—made a warm, syrupy feeling pool in her tummy.
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“Do you love me?”
He set the glass down without a sound and came to the bed. He sat on the edge, the mattress dipping under his weight. His hand, large and warm, settled on the small of her back, his thumb stroking the dip of her spine. “What a silly question. Of course I love you. You’re my good girl. My only girl.”
She wriggled, pushing her back up into his touch like a cat. “I love you more.”
“Impossible.” His hand slid lower, cupping the full curve of her bottom. She stilled, her breath catching. “This is mine. All this soft, pretty flesh. This sweet, innocent little cunny.” His fingers traced the cleft, a whisper of contact through the silk of her panties. “Do you love it when Daddy touches you here?”
She nodded, her face burning against the rabbit. “Mhm. It makes me feel all tingly and good.”
“That’s because it’s what you’re for.” His voice was a hypnotic murmur, weaving through the twilight. “To feel good for me. To be my pretty little thing who gets all wet and desperate when I pay attention to her.” He hooked a finger in the side of her panties and pulled them down, just enough to bare her. The evening air was cool on her exposed skin. “Look at you. Already getting slick for me. Such a greedy girl.”
She whimpered, pushing her hips back. His finger didn’t enter her, just stroked lightly over her slit, gathering the wetness that proved him right. “Daddy, please…”
“Please what? Use your words, baby.”
“Please touch my cunny. Properly.”
“Since you asked so nicely.” He shifted, moving to kneel between her legs. He pushed her thighs apart, his grasp firm. The view was obscenely open. He let out a low, gratified sound. “God, look at that. Pink and puffy and dripping. All for me.” He lowered his head.
The first slow, flat stroke of his tongue made her cry out, her fingers clutching the sheets. He licked her like she was something exquisite to be tasted, savored. He teased her entrance, circled her clit, then drew the tight, needy bud into his mouth and sucked.
“Oh! Oh, Daddy!” Her back arched, her world dissolving into the wet, rasping pressure of his mouth. The clever, relentless focus. He was mapping her, claiming her with his tongue, and she was just a quivering map of nerves. One of his hands slid up her back, pressed between her shoulder blades, holding her down for his feast. The other hand slid beneath her, two fingers pushing up and inside her cunt without warning.
She screamed. The dual sensation was too much—the suckling on her clit, the deep, curling thrust of his fingers. He scissored them, stretching her, crooking them to press against a spot inside that made her see white sparks. “There’s my girl’s special spot,” he growled against her flesh, his breath hot. “So deep. Only I know how to find it.”
He fucked her with his fingers, steady and deep, while his mouth worked her clit into a swollen, throbbing peak. The coil in her belly pulled tighter, tighter, a burning wire of pure need. She was babbling, a stream of “Daddy, yes, right there, please, I’m gonna, I’m gonna—”
“Come,” he ordered, his voice vibrating through her.
She shattered. The orgasm ripped through her, a seismic, mind-emptying convulsion that locked her muscles and tore a raw, sobbing scream from her throat. Her cunt clamped rhythmically around his driving fingers, spilling her wetness over his hand. He rode it out with her, his mouth gentling to soft kisses as she trembled and shook through the aftershocks.
When she lay boneless and panting, he withdrew his glistening fingers. He brought them to her lips. “Taste. Taste how happy you make Daddy.”
Obediently, her tongue licked the salty-sweet fluid from his fingers. He watched her, his green eyes dark with hunger.
He stood, unbuckling his trousers. His cock sprang free, thick and ruddy, already weeping. He was so big. The sight of it, the memory of its fullness, made her clench around nothing. “On your back now. Legs open. Show Daddy everything.”
She flipped over, scurrying to obey, pushing the rabbit aside. She lay exposed, her chest heaving, her legs spread wide, her soaked, well-used pussy on display. He knelt between her knees, his gaze drinking her in. He ran the head of his cock through her slick folds, coating himself in her.
“My perfect, dumb little girl,” he murmured, and it was praise, it was everything. “Your head is so empty. Your body is so smart. It knows exactly what it needs.” He positioned himself. “What do you need?”
“You, Daddy. Your big cock. Please.”
He thrust home in one smooth, powerful stroke. She gasped, her eyes rolling back as he filled her utterly. He didn’t move for a moment, letting her feel the complete occupation. “So tight. Still so fucking tight around me. Like you were made for this. For taking my cock.” Then he began to move.
This wasn’t the frantic pounding from the couch. This was deep, deliberate, possessive. Each withdrawal was almost complete, each drive back in was a brutal reclamation. The bedframe knocked a soft, steady rhythm against the wall. He leaned over her, bracing himself on his arms, his face inches from hers.
“Look at me,” he commanded.
Her hazel eyes, blurry with pleasure, focused on his. She was so deep in the trance of him, of his body using hers, that there was no shyness, only awe.
“You’re nothing but a warm, wet hole for me to fuck. A pretty face to watch while I fill you up. Say it.”
“I’m… a warm, wet hole,” she repeated, her voice hitched with each thrust. “A pretty face for you.”
“You love it.”
“I love it, Daddy. I love your cock.”
He fucked her harder, faster, losing a little of his control. The obscene, wet sounds of their joining filled the room. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, meeting him thrust for thrust. The friction was building again, a low burn blooming into an inferno.
“I’m gonna come,” he gritted out, his rhythm fragmenting. “I’m gonna pump your useless little cunny full of my cum. You want that? You want Daddy’s cummies?”
“Yes! Give it to me, please, fill me up!” she begged, delirious.
With a final, savage drive, he buried himself to the root and groaned, a raw, animal sound. She felt the hot, liquid pulse of his release jetting deep inside her, marking her, claiming her at her most fundamental level. The sensation triggered a second, violent climax for her, her walls milking him desperately as she sobbed his name into the crook of his neck.
He collapsed atop her, his weight a comforting anchor. They lay joined, sweaty and spent, as the last of the sunset bled away and the city’s artificial stars took its place. After a long while, he rolled off, pulling her into his side. He tugged the silk sheet over them.
He kissed her forehead, his lips lingering. “My good girl. My perfect, empty thing.” His hand rested on her lower belly, where his seed was slowly leaking from her. “All mine.”
She nuzzled closer, her mind a serene, silent pool. She had no thoughts, only the feeling of his skin, the smell of sex and his cologne, the sound of his heartbeat. She was his. It was the only fact in the universe.
Outside, the city hummed, a distant, endless machine. In the room, in the bed carved with swirling, hypnotic patterns, there was only the quiet, and the profound, terrifying peace of absolute ownership.