"Lean back," he murmurs into my ear, his hands already sliding up my rib cage. "Let Daddy take care of you."
I shouldn't like it when he calls himself that. Shouldn't melt into him at those words. But I do, relaxing against his chest as his hands begin to explore my body beneath the water.
"Such perfect tits for Daddy to suck," he growls appreciatively, cupping my breasts, thumbs circling my nipples until they harden into tight peaks. "So responsive. So fucking beautiful."
I gasp as he pinches one nipple, a sharp pleasure-pain that shoots straight to my core. His other hand drifts lower, over my stomach, between my thighs.
"Spread your legs," he commands, and I comply instantly, parting my knees. "Good girl."
His fingers find my center, already slick and swollen with need. He groans in my ear. "Always so wet for me. Your body knows who it belongs to."
"Yes," I whisper, my hips lifting to meet his touch. "Yours."
"Mine," he confirms, slipping two thick fingers inside me. "This tight little pussy is all mine."
I moan, my head falling back against his shoulder as he works his fingers in and out of me. His thumb finds my clit, circling it with just the right pressure. How does he already know my body so well? How does he play it so expertly when no one—not even me—has ever made me feel this way before?
"I love the sounds you make," he says, his voice a rumble against my back. "So sweet. So honest. Can't hide how much you love Daddy's touch."
"Please," I whimper, not even sure what I'm begging for. More. Everything. Him.
He withdraws his fingers, leaving me empty and aching, only to lift me slightly, positioning me over his thick length. "Is this what you want, little girl? Daddy's cock filling you up?"
"Yes," I breathe, feeling the blunt head pressing against my entrance. "Please, Woodrow."
"What do you call me?" he growls, holding me poised above him, denying me what we both want.
"Daddy," I correct myself, my cheeks burning with shame and arousal. "Please, Daddy."
He rewards me by lowering me slowly onto his cock, filling me inch by delicious inch. The position is new, my back to his chest, sitting in his lap. It lets him go impossibly deep, touching places inside me I didn't know existed.
"So perfect," he murmurs against my neck, hands gripping my hips, guiding my movements. "So tight around my cock. Like you were made for me."
Water sloshes around us as he helps me rise and fall on his length, setting a slow, steady rhythm. It's different from the frantic coupling on the counter or the possessive claiming in the woods. This is deliberate, intimate, almost worshipful.
"Going to fill you up," he promises, one hand sliding around to rub my clit as I ride him. "Going to pump you so full of my cum that it takes root. Put my baby in you."
The words should terrify me. I'm twenty-four, unmarried, barely know this man. But in this moment, with his cock stretching me perfectly, his hands everywhere, his voice in my ear—it sounds like the most natural thing in the world.
"Yes," I moan, my movements becoming more urgent as pleasure builds within me. "Please, Daddy. Want to feel you come inside me."
He groans, the sound echoing off the bathroom tiles. "Such a good girl. Taking Daddy's cock so well. Going to make you come first, then fill you up with my seed."
His fingers work my clit faster, his thrusts from below becoming more forceful. I'm close, so close, teetering on the edge of something monumental.
"Come for me, little girl," he commands, his voice strained with his own approaching climax. "Let me feel that sweet pussy squeezing my cock."
His words push me over the edge. I come with a cry that bounces off the bathroom walls, my body convulsing around him, pleasure radiating outward in waves. He holds me tight against him, grinding up into me as my orgasm pulses around his length.
"Fuck," he growls, and then he's coming too, his cock pulsing inside me, filling me with his hot release. "Taking my seed so well. So perfect. Mine."
We stay joined together as our breathing slows, the water cooling around us. His arms wrap around me possessively, one hand splayed across my lower belly as if he can already feel his child growing there.
"You've ruined me," I whisper into the steam-filled air, not even sure if I mean for him to hear.
But he does. His arms tighten around me, his lips pressing against the mark he left on my neck. "Good," he murmurs. "Because I'm never letting you go. No matter what happens, you're mine now. Forever."
And God help me, despite everything—the danger, his obsession, the frightening intensity of what's happening between us—I believe him. Want him to be right.
