“I love hearing you beg, baby, but I think you can do better than that,” he chides. “Now try again and tell me what you need.”
“Please let me come. I need it so bad.” God, I’m bad at this. It’s his own fault, because I’m positive he’s actively fucking me stupid. “I promise to be good. I’ll do anything.” He's got me so strung out, I can feel tears welling up, threatening to escape.
“Since you asked so nicely… Come all over Daddy's dick. Make me messy. Now.” His command is all I need. I suck in a ragged breath, then release a strained, guttural moan as my orgasm tears through me and I combust under him, squeezing the life out of the pillow that's holding my restrained wrists. Thank god, because that train was pulling into the station and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
“That's my beautiful fucking girl.” And on the next drive into me, he's erupting inside me, filling me to the brim with his warm release.
33
Ryker
It’s clear she’s never been properly fucked. She passed out shortly after I cleaned her up and I’m ready to go again. Poor thing has no stamina and that realization has the corner of my lip curling up in amusement. While it doesn’t help me right now, with my dick hard as a rock again, I can't find it in me to be upset about it. Stamina, we can fix. Her lack of it, means no other man has experienced her body like I just did. Good for them, because that thought has me feeling feral and I'd prefer not to have to murder them all.
She’s curled into me with her head on my chest and it’s possible she’s drooling a little. There's also an adorable little snore coming from her that has me chuckling. I wonder if she knows she holds her breath when she’s about to come. I watched her face turn various shades of cherry red, and then her chest stopped moving as she held everything in. Poor thing looked like she was going to explode. When I finally allowed her to come, I could see the pressure release and float away as she rode thewave of her climax. I wasn’t planning on allowing it, but she begged so well, and I couldn’t bring myself to deny her.
Admittedly, my reasons weren't all that selfless, because I needed to see her fall apart. The last time I witnessed her come, I didn't get to touch her and I haven't been able to stop jacking off to the memory of it every day since.
And her eyes… entranced me as her eyelids fluttered with every breathless moan. Then she called me Daddy. I know it was a heat of the moment thing, because I said it too, but fuck if I don’t want her to say it all the time. I’ll be her Daddy. I'll be whatever the fuck she wants.
She shifts underneath me and my hand instinctively begins to rub her back and ass in a slow, soothing motion.
“Hey,” she mumbles, looking up at me through droopy, glazed eyes and a weight settles in my chest with the need to take care of her.
Leaning down, I meet her lips with a gentle kiss. “Hey, sweet girl. How are you feeling?”
“Tired,” she says with a yawn. “What time is it?”
“It’s too fucking late, is what it is.” I sit up, allowing her to adjust herself as I shift. My head falls against the headboard, thoughts drifting to when I couldn't find her. I could feel every rapid beat of my heart in my throat as panic coursed through my veins. Then I found her here… hiding. “I don’t think you understand how worried I was when I couldn’t find you.”
She sighs. “I’m–sorry. I shouldn’t have left like I did. I saw her touching you and it was all I could do to finish my shift.”
“Care to elaborate on that? Lots of people, especially women, touch my arm or hand on any given day, while I’m working behind the bar. It doesn’t mean anything.”
She looks away and clasps her hands together, but I don’t miss the slight shake in them, that she’s clearly trying to hide from me. I resist the urge to force her to look at me. We need totalk about this. If this is how she needs to do it, I’ll take it. “I overreacted, I get that. But come on, that woman is perfect, just like my mother. I have love handles, and back fat. My middle is soft and don’t even get me started on these thunder thighs,” she exclaims with a loud slap to each thigh. “I’m literally the opposite in every way. I’ve tried–hard–over the years, to get rid of it all, but I just… can’t.”
On one hand, I’m proud of her for opening up so beautifully and sharing such a vulnerable truth. On the other, that truth has me wanting to shake some sense into her. “Have you ever considered that maybe I have no interest in perfection?”
“Then why were you with my mother back then?”
“Beauty is more than just physical, sweet girl. Your mother was selfish and cruel. There’s no amount of physicalanythingthat could make a woman like that seem beautiful to me. Her appearance may have gotten my attention, but it’s her personality that lost me,” I explain, cupping her chin and drawing her eyes back to mine. “Is she the reason you’re so hard on yourself about your body?”
Her eyes blink and a single tear falls down her cheek. I don’t need her to say it to confirm what I’ve suspected all this time.
“I have this memory,” she starts, quietly at first. “I think I was twelve, maybe thirteen. I was obsessed with watching videos of people jumping out of airplanes, soaring through the sky like a bird or people jumping onto those huge inflatables in the water and then another person, that’s waiting on the inflatable, goes flying into the air and into the water. I wanted to fly through the air, as high as I could, just like them.” Her movements become more and more animated as her face lights up at the memory of watching other people’s adventures.
“That sounds–terrifying.”
“It does, but I wanted it more than anything,” she pauses and sucks in a breath. “Mom wouldn’t take me to do any of it, nomatter how hard I begged. Said I was too heavy to do things like that.”
My heart breaks for little twelve year old Arabella. I remember Christine being hard on her about her weight, which irritated the fuck out of me, but I had no idea it went back that far. It sickens me that she’s put this idea in her daughter’s head that she’s anything less than perfect.
“Sweet girl. I’m so sorry she ever made you feel anything less than perfect.” I pull her closer to me, encasing her head in my hands and placing a gentle kiss to her forehead, while silently vowing to right this wrong her mother inflicted on her.
I need to get her home. “It’s late. We need to get dressed and go home. To my bed. Where you will be sleeping from now on.”
“So bossy,” she laughs quietly and I’m thankful to hear some levity back in her tone.
“You have no idea.”
