I shivered, not from cold but from the intensity of his words. They weren’t just words; they were a claim, a promise, a threat. And I wanted to believe them. I wanted to belong to him, body and soul.
He leaned down, his breath hot against my ear. “Do you understand what that means, Aspen?”
I nodded, unable to speak. My throat was dry, my heart pounding like a drum.
“It means,” he continued, his lips brushing against my skin as he laid me on the bed, “that I own you. That you trust me to do whatever I want with you. And you’ll let me. Because you want it. Because you need it.”
I whimpered, the sound escaping my lips before I could stop it. His words were a knife, cutting through my defenses, leaving me bare and vulnerable. And I loved it. I loved the way he made me feel—like I was nothing but his, like I existed only for him.
“Touch yourself,” he commanded, his voice low and gravelly. “Show me how much you want me.”
I froze for a moment. I’d never done that much. And to do it in front of him. I know my cheeks were flaming.
“Aspen. Have you decided already that you’d rather not do what I want?” His voice was so stern, I felt more wetness spill from my pussy.
“No! No, sir. I will. I just have never…done that much.” I was so afraid of disappointing him.
He leaned down and kissed my forehead. “Sunshine. Just like when you first sucked my cock, and I told you to just do what felt right. It’s the same thing. I want to watch you give yourself pleasure. It will help me know what feels good to you. I can see you’re even wetter than you were before, so it must appeal to you. Now, go on. Touch your beautiful dripping pussy for me.”
My hand trembled as I reached between my legs, fingers brushing against my slick walls. He was right. I was dripping wet, already aching for him, and the slightest touch sent a jolt of pleasure through me. I moaned, arching my back, my fingers sliding inside me with ease.
Jonas watched me, his eyes dark with desire. “That’s it,” he growled. “I want you to fuck yourself for me. Let me see how much you need my cock.”
I obeyed, my fingers moving faster, deeper, stopping only to rub my clit. I was gasping for air. My body was on fire, every nerve ending alive with pleasure. And still, it wasn’t enough. I needed more. I needed him.
“Papa,” I begged, my voice breaking. “Please, I can’t. It’s not enough.”
He smiled, a teasing smile that sent a shiver down my spine. “Beg for it,” he said. “Beg for my cock.”
“Please,” I whimpered, my fingers still working in and out of me. “Please, Papa, I need you. I need your cock. Please, fuck me.”
He leaned down, his lips brushing against mine. “There’s my good girl,” he whispered, then kissed me hard, his tongue claiming my mouth as surely as his cock would claim my body.
He pulled my hand away, licked my fingers, leaving me panting, and positioned himself between my legs. I could feel the heat of him, the hardness of his cock pressing against myentrance. I spread my legs wider, inviting him in, wanting him to take me, to own me.
He thrust into me in one smooth motion, filling me completely. I cried out, my body arching off the bed, my fingers clutching at the sheets. He was so big, so thick, and it hurt so good.
“You are so perfect, Sunshine.”
He started to move, slow at first, then faster, harder. Each thrust pushed me closer to the edge, my body tightening around him, my nails digging into his back. I could feel the sweat dripping off him, could hear the ragged sound of his breathing, and it only heightened my pleasure.
“You feel so fucking good,” he growled, his hips slamming into mine. “So tight, so wet. You were made for me, Aspen.”
I moaned, my body responding to his words, to his touch. I was lost in him, in the feel of him, in the sound of his voice. I was completely and utterly his, and I never wanted it to end.
He reached between us, his fingers finding my clit, and rubbed it in fast, tight circles. The combination of his cock inside me and his fingers on my clit was too much, too intense, and I came with a scream, my body shaking with the force of it.
He kept going, fucking me through my orgasm, his cock pounding into me with relentless force. I could feel him getting closer, his thrusts becoming more erratic, his breath coming in short, harsh gasps.
He groaned, his body tensing, and then he was coming, his cock pulsing inside me, filling me with his heat. I clung to him, my legs wrapped around his waist, my fingers tangled in his hair, as he emptied himself into me.
“You’re mine now,” he said. “Every inch of you.”
After a minute or an hour—time was a joke, my body a riot of aftershocks—he kissed me again, this time hungry, devouring.He pulled back, face inches from mine, and brushed the hair from my eyes.
I lay there, my body still trembling from the aftershocks of my orgasm, Papa’s cock still buried deep inside me. His breath was hot against my neck, his chest pressed against my back, and I could feel his heartbeat pounding in time with mine. His hands roamed over my body, possessive and hungry, and I shivered under his touch.
“I need you again,” he said, not asking. His cock, impossibly, was already growing hard inside me.
