Chapter 4
Dmitri
She called me Daddy again. I stare down at her. I can’t think. I can’t fucking breathe. All the blood in my body has gone straight to my dick.
“Please?” Leah looks up at me, her eyes searing my soul. All that blue, all for me. Those long lashes fan over her cheeks as she blinks. “I really want to taste you.”
I want to yank off my pants and stuff myself down her throat, but I force myself to relax. I want to savor every moment. “Taste me where?”
“This part of you.” She touches my upper thigh and slides her palm toward my bulging cock, which is currently fighting against the confines of denim.
I hate denim. I hate all clothes, all barriers.
I unbutton my jeans, shove them down just far enough to pull out my cock. “This is what you want?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
That honorific warms me all through. I want to pound my chest with pride. My little girl wants my cock? She can have it.
I yank off my shirt so I can see better. “Open wide.”
She parts those luscious lips. Instead of thrusting right in, I trace her mouth with my tip. Every warm, wet slide teases my nerve endings. Her tongue flicks out and tastes me.
“Fuck.” Can’t wait anymore. I push into her mouth.
She curls her tongue around me, all slippery wet heat. I fist my hands and hold them at my sides. If I touch her head, I’ll start fucking her face. And I won’t be gentle. A monster wouldn’t be gentle.
Except, a monster wouldn’t respond to safe words. If she said her safe word, I would stop. And I’m not fucking her face. She’s blowing me, and I’m in control of how I react.
Maybe I’m not as bad as I thought I was.
The way she’s taking me is obliterating my control, however. She bobs her head back and forth. Pretty sure I touch her throat, because she coughs and gags. Her eyes water. I start to pull back, but she makes a sound of protest.
She wants it hard.
I relax one of my hands so I can touch the top of her head. “You’re really okay?”
She looks up at me and makes an mm-hmm sound. It vibrates up my cock and through my whole fucking spine.
“That feels so good, baby. So good.”
She smiles around me. Beautiful and naughty and all mine. She pops off for a moment to say, “I’m not great at this.”
“You’re perfect.” I’m astonished she could even begin to imagine she isn’t good at it.
“Yeah, well, I don’t know what I’m doing.” She looks off to the side, like she’s embarrassed. “I’ve given lots of head, but nobody ever said it was good.”
She’s telling me, in not so many words, that Mick told her it was bad. Fucking prick.
I’m her lover now. Her Dom. Her Daddy. Which means it’s my job to encourage her, help build up her confidence.
I stroke her hair, tempted to undo those cute little buns so I can get a good grip and start directing her movements. No. I’ll let her do this her way, because that’s how she’ll realize how fucking great she really is.
“You just do what feels natural.” I can’t stop touching her hair, her ear, her cheek, her lips.
“I promise, I’m loving this. You know the more sensitive area, just beneath the crown.
When you lick over that with your tongue, it makes my eyes roll back in my head.
And the way you grip the base with your hand—fuck, like that—Leah. You’re great at this.”
She puts her mouth back on me. I let her set the pace.
Every time she gags, I allow it. But I don’t take over or push.
I appreciate her effort and enthusiasm. Having Leah’s mouth on my cock is better than any practiced blowjob.
There’s nothing rehearsed or mechanical about the way she sucks me down.
I trace her upper lip, stretched over my girth. I’m going to fucking blow. This isn’t how I want to come, though—I want us coming together, joined.
I pull back and tug at her arm until she’s standing. “Get naked and lean over the counter, baby.”
She strips out of her clothes. When she leans against the counter, she looks over her shoulder and gives me an impish grin. I open the box of condoms we picked up at the store, tear one open, slide it over my length.
“Sometimes Daddy wants to fuck you gentle.” I ease into her, running my hands up and down her naked thighs. Smooth. Soft. Supple. “But sometimes, like today? Daddy needs to fuck you hard. Are you wet?”
“I don’t know…maybe you should check.”
I delve a hand between her legs. “You’re sopping wet, baby. Like this pussy was made for me. Are you ready?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
I tug her hips back and down. I thread one of my hands with hers on the counter, anchoring us. Her rose-and-butterfly tattoo ripples as she rocks back against me. Someday—not today—I want to spray my come all over it.
Sure, hard strokes. Faster than usual. The wet sounds of my cock sliding through her pussy fill the quiet kitchen like chords in a piece of music. The obscene clapping of our bodies joining provides a rhythm.
Leah’s moans, her gentle cries, provide the melody.
Best song I ever heard.
“Think you can come?” I ask.
“So close?—”
I slow down. “You sure about that?”
“Don’t you dare stop.” With her free hand, she reaches back to claw at my thigh, trying to bring me closer.
I pin that hand to the counter, too. “I’m in charge, baby. Not you. If I want you to wait for your orgasm like a good girl, you will.”
She whines, all frustration and protest.
“I want to know exactly where to aim in this sweet pussy. So let’s try some different angles.”
“You had it already—you could’ve just kept going.”
I kiss her ear and give the lobe a gentle bite. “Patience, baby.”
She growls in frustration, and I chuckle.
Systematically, I try out different strokes. Two to three times with each angle. Experimenting. Listening for sounds of her enjoyment. Feeling that tell-tale clench of her inner muscles, squeezing in approval.
She gasps. “Yes—right there. Daddy—please?—”
I keep moving at that angle, continuing my agonizingly slow pace. We’re sweaty. My legs are shaking with the effort of holding back. Leah’s hands flex within mine.
“Going to come, sweetheart?” I pump hard with each word.
“Yes!”
I stare at her tattoo, losing myself in it so I don’t come before Leah. Stroke after stroke, I hit the same spot. She tightens around my cock. So fucking close.
“Come now .” I let go of her hand, find her clit, and pinch.
Her triumphant scream echoes in the kitchen. The tight vise of her pussy causes my own climax. A violent, squeezing release blazes through me like a fucking wildfire.
I empty into her, grabbing her hips to hold her tight against me. “Fuck—Leah—fuck?—”
I’m totally lost in her. My sense of self, erased. For weeks, I’ve wondered about my urge to claim her. It isn’t only sexual—it’s spiritual. I want to claim her, I realize, because she has me . I’m hers.
The realization isn’t comfortable. It’s fucking scary. But it’s one of the truest thoughts I’ve ever had.
Finally depleted, I brace my arms against the counter so I don’t squish her. I kiss her shoulder. “You okay?”
“I’m amazing.” Her pussy gives a reflexive squeeze.
I marvel at the woman in front of me. Her skin bears a sheen of sweat. I want to lick every drop, but I settle with kissing the back of her neck.
“Tell me about your tattoo.” I stroke over the ink. “You got it in college, right?”
“Yeah. I saved for it, as soon as I got a part-time job. I thought the design was really pretty.”
I wait for more of an explanation.
Leah shrugs.
I don’t think that’s the full answer, but we just had amazing sex. I don’t want to ruin the moment. I kiss her tattoo and ease out of her, wincing at how sensitive my dick is. If I stayed in her, I could probably go again in a few minutes. But the condom is already used, and her stomach growls.
I laugh. “Hungry? My cock wasn’t enough for you?”
She spins in my arms and grins. “You didn’t let me swallow. So yeah, I’m still hungry.”
“Next time.” I trace the outline of her lips with my fingertip. “First, food.”
We put on our clothes and cook together, making breakfast for dinner. After we eat and clean the kitchen, we each take a beer to the back deck overlooking the lake. I drag two chairs together so Leah and I can sit close.
The sunset paints the lake pink. We sip our beers and listen to an osprey’s strident call. The old rope still dangles from a giant tree. In summer, we used to swing on that and hurl ourselves into the water.
Patrick usually came along on those summer trips. I wince. I haven’t thought about him for hours. He’s out of lock-up. His moms and Granddad—and my parents, I guess—are rallying to support him.
Fucking assholes. All of them.
I squeeze my beer bottle, hoping to ground myself with the chill. I hate that my childhood memories are tainted because of not only Patrick, but the rest of the family, too. All those good things we had, lost. Will we recover from this as a family, or will we be splintered forever?
It’s not just Patrick, either. Danica’s still furious with me. Having drinks with her the other night gave me hope, but I know I’m not forgiven. It was a temporary cease-fire, not a full treaty.
Leah nudges my knee with her foot. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” My voice is gruff. I take a sip of beer to clear it. “I think so, anyway.”
Setting down her bottle, Leah stands up. She swings one leg over mine and climbs into my lap.
My dick is half-hard. She doesn’t have to do anything special for me to feel this way. But she doesn’t rub against me. She holds me, that’s all. My stress and anger and sadness melt away as our breathing and heartbeats sync together.
* * *
Gage
I’ve lived alone for a decade and a half. At no point did I ever feel lonely.
Until now.
Leah’s room is bright with late afternoon sunlight. I sit on the edge of her bed, breathing deeply. Unable to help myself, I lift her pillow to my face. Her sweet, feminine scent fills my nose.