His hand creeps beneath my shirt and dips into the cup of my bra, pulling the material away and exposing my breast for his touch. His thumb and index finger roll my nipple and he pulls on it, making it hard. “Tell Daddy what youwant.”
“Stop saying that. It’sweird.”
He pinches my nipple and makes me wince. “I’m just trying itout.”
“Well, don’t. I don’t likeit.”
He lifts his chin. “Kissme.”
I lean in and place my lips on his. Our mouths open and our tongues move against one another like restlesswaves.
He twists my nipple, sending an erotic wake-up call to my groin. “Tell Daddy what youwant.”
The kissing. The breast fondling. The nipple pinching and twisting. It’s turning me on in spite of his calling himselfdaddy.
“I want to pleaseyou.”
“What do you think would please Daddy rightnow?”
“Ablowjob.”
“Mmm… I want nothing more than your mouth wrapped around my cock, but a blowjob will cost me another key pull. That would put you at five pulls on the morning of day three. At that rate, you’ll pull that key sooner than I want. And I’m nowhere near ready to let you go,bebelle.”
He releases my nipple and moves his hand down my stomach, cupping it between my legs over the crotch of my shorts. His mouth devours mine and his hand moves up anddown.
His mouth pulls away from mine. “Does baby girl want Daddy to make hercome?”
I ignore that creepy baby girl-daddy shit. “Yes,Sir.”
“Sayit.”
“I want you to make mecome.”
“Finishit.”
“Finish what?” I know what he means, but I’m stalling, hoping he’ll dropit.
“The sentence. I want you to make me come,Daddy.Sayit.”
I can’t do it. “That’s what I called my father when I was a little girl, and I still do sometimes. Calling you that iscringeworthy.”
“You can’t think about it that way; I’m a completely different kind ofdaddy.”
“Well,obviously.”
He pushes his hand into the front of my shorts, and the tip of his finger rubs the aching nub at the top of my slit. “I want you to say it,bebelle.”
I clear my throat and swallow. “I want you to make me come…Daddy.” My voice is barely audible when I say the lastword.
A deep chuckle rumbles in his chest. “Calling me daddy doesn’t do it for me. Don’t say itagain.”
Thank.Fuck.
Tristan dips his fingers into the sticky ooze between my folds and uses the slick moisture as a lubrication for his fingers to glide over my clit. Side to side. Circles. Up and down. He does a little ofeverything.
I’m trembling. My breath is rapid. I may even be a little lightheaded. Every nerve ending between my legs is alive. I’ve never been so desperate to come in all of mylife.
He glides his fingers up and down my center. His fingertip grazes my clit with every upward stroke, enough to stimulate but not nearly enough to satisfy. It’s torture, the sweetestkind.
