“Because you're big. Because your cock stretches me. Because I love feeling it.” I was babbling now, too far gone to care. “Love feeling you inside me. Love being full of you. Love being yours.”
“You are mine.” He curled his fingers, hitting my prostate, and I saw stars. “Say it again.”
“Yours. I'm yours, Daddy. Only yours.”
“That's right.” He added a fourth finger, and the stretch was intense, riding the edge of too much. “And I'm going to fuck you so hard you feel it for days. Going to make sure you remember who you belong to every time you sit down.”
“Yes. Fuck, yes. Do it. Claim me. Make me yours.”
He pulled his fingers out and I felt the head of his cock pressing against my hole. He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, and the stretch was perfect.
“Fuck,” I gasped. “So big. So full.”
“You can take it. You always take it so well.” He pushed in deeper, and I felt every inch. “Such a good boy for me. Taking Daddy's cock so perfectly.”
When he was fully seated inside me, we both went still, breathing hard.
“Move,” I begged. “Please move, Daddy.”
He pulled back slowly, then slammed back in, and I cried out. He did it again, harder this time, setting a brutal pace that had me gasping and clinging to the headboard.
“Hands,” he growled. “Keep your hands where they are.”
I forced my hands back to the headboard, gripping it desperately, and he fucked me harder. Every thrust hit that spot inside me that made me see stars, and I was making sounds I didn't recognize—desperate and needy and completely gone.
“That's it. Take it. Take Daddy's cock. Show me how much you love it.”
“Love it. Fuck, I love it. Love your cock. Love how you fuck me. Love how you make me feel.”
His hands gripped my hips hard enough to bruise, and I loved it. Loved the marks he was leaving, loved the evidence that this was real, that he was claiming me.
“Gonna come,” I gasped. “Gonna come, Daddy, please?—”
“Not yet. You don't come until I say so.”
“Please. Please, I can't?—”
“You can.” He shifted the angle slightly, and suddenly he was hitting my prostate with every thrust, and I was shaking, trembling, right on the edge of orgasm but unable to fall over without his permission.
“Please, Daddy. Please let me come. I need it. Need to come on your cock.”
“Touch yourself. But don't come until I say so.”
I let go of the headboard with one hand and wrapped it around my cock, stroking myself in time with his thrusts. The dual sensation was overwhelming—his cock inside me, my hand on my cock, pleasure building and building with nowhere to go.
“Good boy. Look at you. So desperate. So needy. So perfect for me.”
“Please. Please, Daddy, I can't hold it. I'm gonna?—”
“Hold it.” His voice was commanding, absolute. “You hold it until I tell you to come.”
I was shaking, trembling, tears leaking from my eyes from the effort of holding back. My cock was leaking steadily, my hand slick with precome, and every thrust pushed me closer to the edge.
“Daddy, please?—”
“Look at me.” His voice was rough. “Look at me when you come.”
I forced my eyes open, met his gaze, and saw the same desperate hunger reflected back at me.
