Deep.
Controlled.
Like he wanted to etch the memory into every nerve ending I owned.
“Baby, I know you’re close. But, I’m not finishing you, until after dinner. Can you do that for me?” he murmured.
I nodded. I would agree to anything, as he kept this pace.
His rhythm built the way it always did when he wasn’t rushing, when he wanted me soft and broken open on nothing but the feeling of him. His breath hit my shoulder in ragged waves. His hand traveled from my ribs to my hip to my lower stomach, holding me in place like he needed my body to remember exactly where he belonged.
I pushed back into him, helpless.
“That’s it. Take your Daddy. Take every bit of me…” His breath hitched, one sharp, devastating sound, as his hips drove deep once, twice.
He finished hard, heat flooding into me. His forehead pressed to my shoulder. His breath broken.
He didn’t move.
“Don’t let it go. Hold Daddy’s come.”
My eyes fluttered shut. “I am.”
His hand slid down, palm cupping me possessively from behind, keeping me sealed around him.
“Good,” he gently moved me, to face him. He shifted, until he had me lifted against his chest again, legs weak, breath shaking. Without leaving me, he hooked his arms under my thighs and stood, holding me off the ground, my chest against his, my body wrapped around him like we were one.
He carried me to the kitchen.
Still inside me.
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” he murmured as he set me on the edge of the counter, his hips pinning me in place so he stayed seated deep inside me. “Daddy’s going to cook for my girl.”
My fingers curled into his forearms as he reached for the stove controls, his body never leaving mine.
“I’m going to make steak for you. The way you like it. Garlic, butter. Potatoes on the side.”
A slow roll of his hips made my breath stutter.
“And you’re going to stay full for me the entire time.”
My throat tightened. “Vince…”
“That’s right.” He kissed the side of my neck. “And every time you get needy, Daddy’s going to give you a few strokes.”
His knuckles ran down my side, “Just enough to calm you. Not enough to finish. Not until after dinner.”
He reached around me to season the meat, hips moving with every motion, sliding inside me in tiny, devastating rolls that made my legs tremble.
He lifted the pan. “If you feel a drip any come. You part your lips, so daddy can put it back where it belongs,”
A flush raced up my chest.
“Where does my come belong?” He nuzzled my cheek, “Don’t go shy sweetheart, where does daddy’s come belong?”
I gently traced his neck, “In me,”
He kissed my cheek, then my jaw, forehead. “Exactly, in my girl.” He gently brushed my hair back. “So you drip, you tell me, you open your mouth. Understood?”
