I turn around and give Jason my back, slowly sitting down in his lap.
Feeling his ragged pants against the nape of my neck, I drape my legs over his sturdy thighs, my butt nudging his ramrod shaft against his belly, pushing, rubbing.
“Angel, we can’t.”
I lift and scoop back with my hips, bringing his erection down beneath me, the hot length of it pressing to my wetness. Slipping up and back, slowly, in a forbidden rhythm. “But you arouse me, too,” I whisper back over my shoulder, trading dark, conflicted eye contact. “M-maybe two wrongs make a right, Daddy.”
His tether snaps and he reaches between my legs for his thickness, cramming it home with a choked sound. Filling me. His size is a glorious shock to the system, my nerve endings screaming in relief, my tenderest muscles gathering in a spasm that cuts off my breath, warm, sticky moisture seeping out of me while I whine and rock my hips, jerkily.
“Oh, my goodness!”
“Christ. Christ almighty,” Jason growls through his teeth, surging to his feet with me still impaled on his long inches, his right forearm supporting my hips, my feet dangling inches from the floor. “Of course you’re a tight little fuck. Of course you are.”
I have no time to prepare before I’m thrown down, face first, over the top of his wide dresser, knocking over a cologne bottle and a picture frame in the process, his hips ramming into mine like a bull in heat who finally found a mate. I bite down on my bottom lip and take his violent lust, reveling in every second. Every pronounced rattle of the furniture, every thrust into my tingling heat. I welcome the roughness, angling my backside as high as possible to receive the stroke of his smooth length against my clitoris, whimpering when I find the spot, and oh yes, he loves that. He loves when I open my knees and elevate my butt. His frantic and encouraging curses tell me so.
“Yes, yes, just like that. Oh. OhGod.” His eyes glitter back at me in the mirror above the dresser, moonlight glistening on his sweaty chest. “You made me do this. Youmademe. Now I’m never going to be able to stop.”
“I don’t want you to stop,” I murmur, looking at his reflection, squeezing my innermost flesh around his tunnelingsex. “I just wanted you to stop fightingthis. It was always yours. You don’t have to resist anymore.”
He groans brokenly, hanging his head. However, he thrusts into me all the harder. Harder. Harder until the dresser is thumping off the wall. My fingers cling to the wood grain and I feel another implosion coming, my sore sex rippling with a warning. A sign of my oncoming pleasure that makes me whimper and dance on his expanding girth, my hips unable to stay still from the excitement.
“You make me come so good, Daddy,” I baby talk, my feet kicking, still unable to touch the ground, my pussy tightening, tightening. “I knew you would.”
The rapture that transforms his face ends my beautiful torment once and for all, his sperm blasting into my come-slickened, horny channel, his hips pinning mine to the edge of the dresser where he humps me frantically, baying like an animal, the cologne bottle tumbling off the dresser entirely, but he doesn’t slow down. No, he looks me in the eye, his mouth hanging open, eyes glassy, the veins in his neck straining. And it’s right there in his shellshocked expression, written so clearly that he’s never had an orgasm so intense in his life. Not until me.
Not until his little girl.
“Fuck,” he groans, renewing his pounds, his hard abdomen smacking up against my perked-up ass. “Fuck, I can’t stop coming.It keeps going.”
I blink at him innocently. “I’m trying to take it, but I’m too small to fit it all.”
“You don’t have to tell me it’s small,” he snarls, falling over me, grinding upward and holding deep inside my body while he shudders and moans, his pleasure splashing like spilled milk down onto the floor. “My little girl. Built like a fucking angel, but she can take a beating like a slut, can’t she?”
My pleasure surges. Over his blunt talk. His passion. “Only for you.”
“That’s fucking right.Mine.”
He pulls his length out from between my legs, swiping a hand across his sweaty forehead. Before I can guess his intention, he backhands me across the buttocks. Hard.
An orgasm hits me like a cyclone.
And I’m just a naked body, face down over a dresser, shaking and creaming myself while he watches it happen from behind, his palms cracking down several more times on the curves of my buns. Every so often, he strokes a rope of ejaculate onto my smarting bottom, before continuing my corporal punishment. One dominant slap at a time from his huge hand, prolonging my climax until it starts to hurt and I finally, finally, slide backwards off the dresser into his strong arms, my muscles limp. Liquid.
I’m placed in Jason’s bed and he climbs in after me, spooning me from behind and stroking my sweat-dampened hair, planting kisses on the side of my face, my shoulders.
“Good girl. Good girl. You are Daddy’s only girl. So fucking perfect in every way, I can’t believe you’re mine. I can’t fuckingbelieveyou’re mine, sweet angel.” He gently massages my butt, easing the sting, and emotion builds in my throat. I didn’t know where submitting to this man would lead me, but I’m so glad I followed my heart.
I’ve never felt so cherished, safe, loved and fulfilled in my entire life.
“I love you, Jason,” I whisper shakily, a tear sneaking down my cheek.
He presses his face into my neck, inhaling me, his voice borderline unsteady. “I love you, too, Shea. I’m never letting you go.”
I fall asleep with a dreamy smile on my face.
fourteen
Jason
