He knows he can make me beg, put me so on edge I lose my mind.
But I get on my knees. The cushions dip beneath my weight as I turn my body to face the back of the sofa.
“That’s a good boy,” he taunts, lips hot, moving down the column of my spine. “Always so eager.”
Heat prickles my cheek, but I don’t correct him. I say nothing as I hear the hiss and rustle of fabric. Goosebumps prickle and spread over flesh with the whisper of his fingertips ghosting along my side, counting each rib.
“Dom…”
My ass cheeks flinch and clinch seconds before his palm cracks across the curve. The burn sears across my skin, coils with barbed wire around my cock. The sweet pain expels precum down my shaft.
“Want to try again, Nicky?”
He reaches around to grip the cock I’m strangling to death.
Defiant, I shake my head.
His low chuckle scrapes across the back of my neck.
“Are you sure?” He squeezes my cock and jerks hard enough to make my knees shudder. “Remember what happened the last time you acted like a brat?”
I lick my lips, limbs trembling. “No,” I lie.
His laugh is deeper, richer. Amused, but sadistic, because we both know I remember that night very clearly. Dom edged me for hours, hours where I was tied to our bed and he brought me so close I was in tears. The entire time, he used me to get himself off. Cumming in me so many times I leaked for days after.
“I’m going to file this for when we get home to our toy box, Nicky.” The head of his cock nudges my opening and I dig my fingers into the back of the sofa. “Going to tie you down with your ass up, cock strapped to your cage and I’m going to play with your hole until you beg me to stop.”
I make a weak sound of protest I know will be ignored, and that is when he forces his head in dry.
“Fuck!” I hiss at the burn.
At the stretch.
He shushes me the way he had Isla when putting her to bed.
“Bad whores who sass their Daddies get their ass fucked raw.”
No amount of squeezing my eyes shut and holding my breath soothes that sweet agony of him urging himself deeper, pulling back, surging forward.
“I remember when you could only take my head. Your hole was so small, so tight. Now… how many fingers can I get in here, Nicky?”
I exhale in a jagged rush. “Three.”
Dom groans and slams the rest of the way, bottoming out.
“Trained you like the pretty whore you are.”
He doesn’t pull back, but drives deeper with hard, shallow thrusts that send little webs of electricity up my spine. His fingers cut into my hips, holding me steady as he sets a punishing pace that rocks the sofa. Carves trenches in the hardwood with every drag of the legs scraping back.
One hand twists in my hair, yanks my head back. Curves my spine. The other stays on my cock.
“Who’s your Daddy, Nicky?”
He’s close. I can feel the tremors, the erratic thrusts, the ragged pants burning the side of my face.
“You,” I huff, hips driving back, meeting every punch of need.
The hot flood of his release warms my channel with sharp squirts.
