I want everything. I want to know what it’s like to crave another person so much you forget your own name.
His hands slide beneath my skirt, up the backs of my thighs. He finds the edge of my underwear and tears it away in one easy movement. I gasp at the sound, then at the feeling: his fingers tracing the slick heat between my legs, sliding gently over sensitive flesh.
"So wet for me," he says, almost in awe. "You need to be touched, don't you? Need daddy's fingers before you can take daddy's cock."
The words make me moan, and he rewards me by slipping a thick finger inside, then another. My body clenches around him, greedy for more.
My hands splay across his chest, nails digging into muscle when he curls his fingers just right.
"Good girl," he praises, pumping slow, relentless. "You gonna come on my hand?"
I nod, helpless.
"Say it," he orders, thumb circling my clit with rough intent. "Tell daddy what you need."
"I want—" I choke on a gasp, my hips bucking. "Please, I want to come. Please, daddy."
He groans, his lips crashing to mine as he works me faster. My body bows under him, stars exploding behind my eyes. I come apart on his hand, pulsing hard, my cries muffled by his mouth. He doesn't stop, prolonging the sensation until I'm shaking, wrecked and pliant.
Only then does he pull his fingers free, bringing them to his mouth. He licks them clean, watching me the entire time.
"Sweetest thing I've ever tasted," he says, voice thick.
I whimper, boneless on the couch.
He stands abruptly, undoing his belt and pushing his jeans low. His cock springs free—thick, flushed, massive. My mouth goes dry. How is that supposed to fit?
He must sense my panic, because he kneels in front of me, crowding between my knees, hands gentle as he strokes my cheek.
"You can take me, Julia. You're built for it. Made for me."
He lines himself up, the broad head nudging at my entrance. His eyes lock on mine, searching for permission, for fear. When I nod, he grins, animal and triumphant.
He pushes in—slow, careful, the stretch both pain and pleasure. I grab his biceps, nails digging in, and he pauses, letting me adjust.
"That's my good girl," he whispers, kissing—into my neck, my ear, my temple. "Taking me so well. Stretching around me just right."
I gasp as he pushes deeper, filling me inch by excruciating inch. The pain is sharp but fading quickly, replaced by a fullness I've never imagined. My body yields to him, accepting what he gives me even as my mind struggles to comprehend the intensity.
"B-Butch," I stammer, overwhelmed by sensation.
"Right here, baby." His voice is strained, muscles in his neck corded with the effort of restraint. "Daddy's right here."
When he's fully seated inside me, he stills, his forehead pressed against mine, breath coming in harsh pants. I can feel his heartbeat through where we're joined, a primal rhythm that seems to sync with my own racing pulse.
"Mine," he growls, one hand gripping my hip while the other cups my face. "Mine now. Forever."
The possessiveness in his voice should frighten me. Instead, it makes me clench around him, drawing a groan from deep in his chest.
"That's it," he encourages, beginning to move in shallow thrusts. “I’m yours, baby. Take what's yours too."
Mine.The thought that this powerful, intense man belongs to me is dizzying. I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him closer, deeper.
"Good girl," he praises, his pace increasing. "Such a perfect little pussy. Made for me. Made to take my cum."
His dirty words send another rush of heat through me. I've never been spoken to like this—raw and filthy and completely unfiltered. It makes me feel desired in a way I never knew was possible.
"Please," I whimper, not even sure what I'm asking for.
