Designed to undo me.
“Yes,”
He exhaled like the word hit him somewhere sacred.
“I’ll take care of you,” he murmured, shifting me higher onto his chest so he could reach me better. “But I want you to ask properly.”
My breath trembled.
“Daddy… will you get it out of me?”
His jaw clenched, pleasure, that low growl of his only fed my need to please him.
“Every drop,” his mouth hovered over mine, as he worked me.
“Daddy wants every single drop, baby.”
He adjusted his grip, one arm firmly around my back to keep me anchored, the other sliding down to part me with slow, controlled precision.
I gasped.
“You’re still dripping. Look at that. Sweetheart, you’re soaking my hand.” He nipped my ear. “My dick dripping. You’re nice and full with daddy’s come. But I want this… baby… can you give me a little more…for me?”
My head fell forward against his shoulder.
“Give me a little. Just a little more.”
My body obeyed him instantly, a small gush, warm and fluttering, spilling across his fingers and cock.
A sound ripped out of him.
“Oh, baby… good girl.”
He didn’t push.
He coaxed.
Gentle circles, small taps of pressure, slow sweeps that made heat rush up my spine in waves. He was ruining me.
“You can give me more,” he breathed. “I know you can. You’re my girl. You always give so beautifully.”
I whimpered, hips shaking.
“Come on, sweetheart. Let it go.”
Another gush, stronger this time. It poured over his wrist, down the inside of my thigh, soaking us.
He groaned.
“Fuck—yes. That’s it. That’s my girl, look at you. Letting daddy make a mess of you.”
His movements stayed slow, controlled, patient. Devotional. Designed to keep me floating, to make every release soft instead of overwhelming.
“Can you give Daddy a little more?” his voice so gentle it nearly undid me again. “Just a bit, baby. I’ve got you.”
“I—I can,” I whispered. “I think?—”
“You don’t think. You just let Daddy take care of you, okay?” he murmured, thumb stroking my clit.
