His hand slid from my breast down my stomach. Lower. Getting so close.
I knew where he was going. Knew what he intended to do. The knowledge made my legs fall open wider without conscious thought. Made my breath come in short gasps.
He settled between my thighs. His shoulders pressed against the inside of my legs. Spreading me wider. Opening me completely.
I was trembling. My whole body shaking with need and anticipation and the vulnerability of being this exposed. His breath was hot against my inner thigh. So close. So close to where I needed him.
Then his tongue touched me. One long stroke from bottom to top.
"Daddy!"
The word tore out of me. Loud. Desperate. I hadn't meant to say it. Hadn't planned it. But there was no other word for whathe was to me in this moment. No other word that captured the trust and need and submission.
He hummed against me. The vibration sent shockwaves through my core. Through my entire body. My hips jerked off the sofa.
His hands gripped my thighs. Held me in place. Held me open. Then he devoured me.
There was no other word for it. He licked and sucked and used his tongue like he was starving and I was the only thing that could satisfy him. Like eating me out was the most important task he'd ever been assigned.
His tongue circled my clit. Perfect pressure. Perfect speed. The pleasure was immediate and intense. Made my toes curl. Made my hands fly to his hair and grip tight.
He circled again. And again. Building a rhythm that had my hips trying to move despite his hands holding me still.
Then his tongue dipped lower. Inside me. The penetration was shallow but perfect. His nose pressed against my clit while his tongue explored. The dual sensation made me see stars.
"Oh god. Oh god. Daddy, please—"
He returned to my clit. Circled it with that devastating precision. I could feel my orgasm building already. Fast. Intense. Three weeks of tension and wanting and denied release gathering like a storm.
The pleasure spiraled higher. Tighter. That coil low in my belly winding impossibly tight. My thighs started shaking. My breathing turned to gasps. To whimpers. To sounds I'd never made before.
My hips moved despite his grip. Grinding against his mouth. Chasing the sensation. Chasing the release that was right there. Right on the edge. Just a little more. Just a little—
"Please," I whimpered. "Please, Daddy, I'm going to—I'm so close—please can I—"
He stopped.
Pulled back completely. Left me right on the edge with nothing. No tongue. No pressure. No friction. Just cold air against wet, oversensitive flesh.
I made a sound like I'd been wounded. High. Broken. My hips lifted seeking contact that wasn't there. My hands fisted in his hair trying to pull him back.
"Not yet, malyshka," he said. His voice was rough. Wrecked. His chin was wet with my arousal. The sight should have embarrassed me. Instead it made me clench around nothing. Made me need him more.
"You don't come until I give you permission," he continued. His grey eyes held mine. "Do you understand?"
I whimpered. Nodded frantically. Anything. I'd agree to anything if he'd just touch me again.
"Words, devotchka."
"Yes." My voice came out as a sob. "Yes, Daddy. I understand. I won't come without permission. I promise. Please. Please just—"
He kissed my inner thigh. Gentle. Almost tender. "Good girl. Such a good girl for Daddy."
The praise made warmth bloom in my chest despite the desperate ache between my legs. Made me want to be good. Want to obey. Want to earn more of those words.
Then his mouth was on me again.
He licked with broad strokes. Used the flat of his tongue against my clit. The sensation was overwhelming after being so close. After being denied. My body was hypersensitive. Every nerve ending on fire.
