Forty-Three
DALTON
W eston looks terrified when I stand next to the bed where my girlfriend is currently topless in his lap. He holds up his hands. “She agreed—”
“I know what she agreed to,” I reply, for once enjoying the way the mask muffles me. It’s scarier.
A smile spreads across Essie’s face when she looks at me. I’m smiling back, but nobody can see it, and it’s better that way. I place my hand on her chin and drag my thumb across her jawline, tracing the curve, admiring her. She’s doing so, so good, which is no surprise. This was her idea, after all.
Releasing my gentle hold, I step back. Weston reads the situation a beat too late (as usual), and before he can move Essie, I get on the bed behind her. My shins pin his legs, and while Wes makes a futile attempt to escape from underneath both Essie and me, I slip one of my hands behind Essie’s loosened bra cup. I do the same with the other, and once my hands are in place, Essie releases the bra. Now, the only thing keeping Weston from seeing her tits is me.
If I gave a shit about metaphors, I would find one here.
Essie tilts back, and her head rolls onto my chest while I massage her breasts. Shifting her arm over my neck, she makes me bend so she can reach my face. She sucks the skin below the edge of my mask, kissing me, licking me, showing the man whose lap she’s in that she belongs to me, that she’s mine.
And if she hadn’t brought her point home enough yet, she pushes her own mask away from her face.
Weston can see all of her.
And it’s not just her face, but all of Essie—all of the ruthlessness and want and ambition and shamelessness tied up in a girl so unbelievably perfect on the outside. On the inside? She’s perfect for me, but someone like Weston would never be enough for her. Essie would be wasted on simplicity—complicity—on a nepo baby whose ambitions could only amount to blackmailing a woman.
Weston’s eyebrows are high, but they go even higher when Essie takes my mask off next.
My lips find hers immediately, kissing her proprietarily, sliding my tongue into her mouth. When I open my eyes—still kissing Essie—I find Weston glaring at us with clenched fists and concentrated vitriol. He can’t do a damn thing about it.
I’ve done a lot of things— a lot . Frankly, my sluttiness knows no bounds. But cuckolding my boss’s son? That’s new.
And cuckolding is the most diabolical thing Essie could have done to Weston, which is poetic because reducing her value to sex was the most diabolical thing he could have done to her. She’s showing him that he can have everything, but he can’t have her.
I can have her though.
I can take his father and the girl he wants. How does it feel, Weston? How does it feel to be powerless?
“Sweetheart,” I say, moving my lips off her mouth, “tell Weston who fucks you.”
“You do, Daddy,” she responds, looking right at him as she speaks.
“I do,” I reiterate. “And nobody else is ever, ever going to put his dick into you.”
Weston’s expression goes from vitriol to outrage. Finally, he wrestles himself off the bed, but even once Weston is no longer beneath us, Essie doesn’t stop. She rotates in my lap to face me, not caring that my hands are no longer covering her breasts. And while Weston is watching us, she starts rubbing her nearly-naked body on me.
“I’m going to ruin you,” Weston warns, and the acridity in his words holds promise. He’s irate and compressing it deep into a place where Essie and I will surely encounter it later.
But if any part of me believed Essie would find Weston’s threats intimidating, she immediately snuffs those embers when she says, “I’m going to come that much harder on Dalton’s fat cock tonight, knowing you can’t actually do a damn thing to me, Weston.” She doesn’t even bother to take her mouth off mine when she speaks, and the level of unfiltered want it inspires in me is beyond compare.
The words “Evil cunt,” and a door slamming behind me are a sure indication Weston is gone.
Essie barely seems to notice. Her kiss continues and escalates, growing deeper and needier as her grinds evolve into more than frottage and foreplay. When her tiny moans have escalated into full groans, she shoves me onto my back and makes quick work of my pants.
Naked, I stare up at her, absorbing the wantonness in her hooded gaze, her heaving chest, and her roaming hands. We could stop now. We got what we needed. But right now, the moment feels different.
Essie’s hands clutch my cheeks, and she presses her lips against mine. The kiss is slow and indulgent, and the mere act of kissing has never been more obscene or felt more monumental. The only things between us are her skimpy panties and my thick cock, heavy with blood and weeping pre-cum at the tip. It’s pinned between our sweat-damp bodies, and she’s rubbing her perfect cunt on me. And what makes it so special isn’t the languid invasion of her tongue or the way she says my name alongside deities and profanities alike.
It’s the camera on us—the red light glowing across the room.
Weston never noticed it with Essie in her little robe in front of him. That’s the beauty of Essie: She’s so distractingly gorgeous and sweet that it’s nearly impossible to realize she’s so many steps ahead.
Frankly, even I don’t see it coming when she takes my hand, loops it around her back, and guides my fingertips along the crevice of her pert ass until I find it: a plug.
I blink, taking in Essie’s expectant expression. My surprise melts into curiosity. “How long…”
“Long enough,” she assures me, dragging her hand until it rests on my heart. “I can take it.”
She can take it. “Wow.” I breathe out, stroking the plug’s silicone base. It’s snug against the taut rim of her asshole, and her body shivers when I graze my fingers over the sensitive nerve endings. “Ess, I’ve never—”
“You’re going to tonight,” she interjects. “Let me be your first. Let me be your only one. Let me take care of you tonight.”
She’s offering something I’ve never tried even though I’ve been dying to do anal as long as I’ve known it existed. “I just don’t think it’s going to feel good.”
“You don’t believe I can handle it?”
I take in the resolve on her face. This woman brings unbridled ambition to literally everything she does—and I’ve never doubted her. “Turn around.”
No hesitation. None.
She does.
“Spread your cheeks.”
She does.
Her asshole, like all of Essie, looks teeny—even around the plug.
I’m skeptical when I drag my fingertips around the stretched pleats of her perfect, pink bud. Every time I’ve fingered it, she’s gone wild. Obviously, my cock is different though. Still, she releases a gentle moan.
“I want to fuck it,” I admit.
“You will.”
“It looks tight.”
“You’ll fit,” she answers immediately. “There’s nothing—not a single part of you—that I can’t take.”
I swallow hard. I know Essie well enough to recognize she’s talking about more than her asshole. Essie knows me well enough to know I’m going to give in.
We’re both still going to pretend this conversation is about that tiny, tight hole.
My heart is racing, and an airy chuckle escapes my lips. “I don’t know if I deserve you,” I murmur.
Essie turns around and climbs back into my lap. “You deserve me because I picked you,” she replies. Her big brown eyes crinkle, and the corner of her mouth rises. “Because I can take you—all of you—and I want to.” Her smile broadens. “I’ve always envisioned a life with the biggest and best of everything. That’s you, Dalton. Give me what I want, Daddy.”
I nod. I nod and I don’t stop nodding until Essie rolls off me and slides her lacy panties down her legs, and it finally registers this is actually happening.
Nobody has ever been willing to try this with me before—nobody but her.
She settles on her stomach, naked and ready, arms folded near her head so her chin rests against her stacked palms. The plug nestled in her asshole is bright pink and far bigger than any I’ve seen her use before. I give it an exploratory tug, and Essie groans immediately.
“Good?”
“Keep going,” she encourages, wiggling her butt.
With another tug, the silicone moves. Another. Working carefully, I pull until it’s out and immediately massage three fingers against her asshole while catching the gap left from the plug. Her hole looks so small, easily hurt, but I’d be doing a disservice to Essie if I doubted her. Still, I have to take care of her—for my own sanity.
Climbing over her, I lower my mouth to her asshole, licking it and easing it to my touch while I begin lubing her. “So ridiculously perfect,” I murmur between licks and squirts of lube. “That’s my sweet girl, doing so good, opening up that little hole for me. You’re making me so proud, sweetheart.”
Essie’s hands clench the sheets now, and she rolls her hips back to meet my mouth. Willing. Aching for it.
“Look how good you’re doing for me. Look how many fingers you’ve learned to take for me. Three. Can we do four? Try for me, Ess,” I coax, pushing in a fourth finger and continuing to lap at her hole. “Is it good? Cock would be better. Tell your Daddy how much you want his cock.”
“I need to be filled.” She cants her hips back to push her ass even closer to my face. “Please. Please get yourself inside me, Daddy. I need you to cream it with your cum.”
“You want my load in your ass, baby?” I bite her cheek. “Would it make you happy to feel it leaking out? All I want is to make you happy.”
My words have her wild for it, and she’s squirming, wiggling, pulling apart her own cheeks with her hands to show me—to show me everything that’s mine.
I grab the lube bottle from the nightstand and squeeze another generous dollop onto the spot where my fingers are nestled in the taut ring, and another bigger squirt onto my cock. Essie and I are singlehandedly keeping this lube company afloat, I figure, but I don’t ever take chances with her body.
Probably should look into bulk savings though.
When my dick is coated and ready, I lay next to Essie and pull her over me. “Fuck down on my cock,” I instruct. “Show me how you like to get your ass fucked. This way, you decide how much of me you take.”
“What part of ‘all of you’ do you not understand?” she questions as she levers a leg over me and puts her weight on her arms while she gets into position. Even a mere graze of her asshole over my cockhead feels like I’ve been brushed with ecstasy, and when she inches me in, I’m done for.
She’s obscenely tight.
And yet she slides down without much more than a sharp inhalation through her parted lips and her hands latched onto my wrists while I hold her waist. She never stops—doesn’t even hesitate—and in a single controlled motion, Essie’s gorgeous ass takes my cock.
And just like that, I give my anal virginity to a girl who’s five feet tall.
“I’ll always take all of you,” she replies, training herself to breathe around the thickness she just impaled herself on. “Every inch of you is mine. That’s what makes me happy, Daddy.”
She means it. My personality. My energy. My cock . Essie has taken me and more, and there’s not a person out there who can say that other than her.
The next few minutes are slow.
But even for how slow it is, her body has never felt more alive beneath my hands. I massage her beaded nipples with my thumbs. I swivel my fingers against her swollen, eager clit. I latch my hands on her waist and move her languidly like a fuck doll. It swells in me—this tingling need to take her and pleasure her and rut her until everything ignites. But at the same time, I’d rather wait—wait for her, succumb to her. In waiting, in cherishing the gentle ministrations of her small body and feeling them grow incrementally faster, I feel most powerful.
My life has been a series of mishaps—some better than others—but the sense of control I feel with Essie is a high I’ve never experienced before.
“Sweetheart,” I grit when she raises and lowers herself, swallowing my cock again and again in her inimitable, tight grip. The sensation is building into something I can’t describe. She’s feeling me everywhere, I think, and I’d do anything to give her more.
“Give me your cum, Daddy.” She throws her head back and arches, making her breasts jut out and bounce with graceful undulations. “All of it. Please. Fill me.”
Her ass is needy and unrelenting, and when I shove my clean fingers into her cunt, the pressure grows stronger. I stuff my girl, and she clenches me in return, and the promise of what we have together is suddenly bigger than my anal virginity. I flatten my hand on her stomach, the place where I’ll put a baby one day—the spot where she’ll grow them for us. Then I pinch her nipple, envisioning it leaking milk. And for the first time, these fantasies don’t interlace with misery and mistakes and missed opportunities. They’re real—they’re ours.
I come without expecting it, groaning gutturally like a beast while the delicate pleats of her asshole steal my release. Indulgence ripples through my body like charges of electricity sailing through wires and twists and bends, illuminating parts of me that have been dark for so long. I’m bright, I’m radiating heat and want and satisfaction and cum—so much cum.
“I love you,” I manage. “Sweet and filthy and so damn good, Ess. I love you.” I love you, and I’ve loved you forever.
Essie throws her arms around my neck and holds me close, letting the sweat on our bodies mingle. Our breathing levels together, our hearts align together, and this is it: This is respect and this is love.
“You didn’t come,” I murmur into her hair. “I have to make you come. I have to. I have to give you everything you ever ask for—”
She slams her lips against my neck, suckling, licking, capturing my apprehension, “Check the nightstand,” she instructs.
This woman always has a plan.
I open the drawer, but the only things in there are the two silicone cocks I made for her. “This?” I ask anyway, holding one up.
Essie shakes her bangs out of her eyes. “Yes, both,” she responds as she swivels on the steadily-hardening cock already in her ass. “I want both.”