Chapter 25
The air in the room is thick with the scent of her arousal and my own satisfaction, a heady perfume that clings to the back of my throat.
Mackenzi’s body still hums from the aftershocks of her orgasm, a soft, pliant warmth beside me.
Her chest rises and falls, the rapid rhythm gradually slowing as she floats back down to earth.
My own body is a study in contrasts. Every muscle is relaxed, sated from the pleasure I’ve just given her, but my cock is a rigid, demanding presence. A damp patch of precum spreading against the fabric, a testament to how fucking turned on I was from watching and tasting her.
Her eyes, those beautiful, chocolate pools that have been shuttered with pleasure, heavily blink open.
They’re hazy, unfocused for a moment before they clear and land on me.
A slow, deep blush creeps up her neck, staining her cheeks a delicate pink that has nothing to do with exertion and everything to do with the new, unfamiliar territory we’re in.
I see it in her gaze, the shift from passive receiver to active participant.
Her hand moves hesitantly across the rumpled sheets, her fingers trembling slightly as they brush against my stomach. Her touch is featherlight, an exploration. Then it drifts lower, her knuckles grazing the hard ridge of my erection through my boxer briefs.
My fingers wrap firmly around her wrist, stilling her.
“This isn’t transactional, trouble. I’m not keeping a scorecard.
” I shift, turning onto my side to see her fully, our faces inches apart in the dim light of her room.
“I did that because I wanted to. Because tasting you, having you fall apart on my tongue, is one of the hottest fucking things I’ve ever experienced.
That was for me, just as much as it was for you. ”
As she processes my words, relief wars with a flicker of curiosity, the burgeoning desire to give back. It’s that spark, that innate need to please, that has me hard as a fucking rock. Her gaze softens, the confusion melting away, displaced by a determined heat that makes my blood pound.
“But I want to,” she insists, her tone confident and certain. She meets my gaze, and the sincerity shining in her eyes is my undoing. “I want to… touch you.”
My breath hitches. The amusement of her conviction, replaced by a raw, hungry heat that makes my cock throb against the fabric of my boxers.
I study her face, weighing her resolve, testing her, and giving her one last chance to retreat to the safety of her inexperience.
But she doesn’t flinch. She holds my gaze with her chin tilted up in sexy fucking defiance.
I give a slow, deliberate nod. “Okay.” I breathe the soft command that is as much for myself as it was for her. “Show me what you want.”
I release her wrist, and her small hands fumble at the waistband of my boxers, her movements hesitant and unsure.
My entire body goes rigid. The contact, innocent as it is, sends a jolt straight to my groin, and my cock jerks.
Her knuckles brush against my skin as she hooks her fingers into the elastic.
I lift my hips, helping her pull the fabric lower, over my thighs, down my legs.
The air hits my heated skin, and every thick, veiny inch of my length springs free, slapping against my lower abdomen with a soft thud.
Her eyes widen with a mixture of awe and apprehension on her face as she takes in the sight of me. “I…. Umm….” she stammers, at a loss.
“I’ll teach you,” I exhale, lifting hard hand to my lips.
I gather a small amount of spit in my mouth and let it fall into her tiny, waiting palm.
Her eyes follow the movement, her lips parting slightly as I wrap her fingers around my shaft, my hand covering hers.
“Like this,” I instruct, showing her how firmly to grip me and how to stroke without being too rough.
Using my hand on top of hers, I set a slow, torturous pace.
“That’s it, trouble. You’re doing so fucking good. That feels incredible.”
Her hand is small and soft, her touch so tentative.
The sight of her delicate fingers wrapped around my thick cock is almost enough to make me lose control.
I lean toward her and press soft, open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive skin of her neck and shoulder.
She smells sweet, like vanilla and sex, and it is driving me insane.
“That’s it,” I praise against her skin as her movements grow more confident. “Just like that.”
My free hand drifts down her body, my fingers tracing the curve of her voluptuous hip before sliding between her thighs.
My fingers lightly circle her clit, feeling the slickness that still coats her.
She gasps, her hand stilling for a moment on my cock before resuming its rhythm, a little faster this time.
Her body arches into my touch. “I… I want…” She falters, her voice a breathy whisper.
I nip at her earlobe before growling against her skin, “Use your words, trouble. Tell Daddy what you want.”
A deep, crimson blush floods her face, and she practically buries it in my shoulder to hide the fire burning across her cheeks. Her voice is muffled against my skin, she continues, “I want you inside me… To have sex with you.”
My entire body pauses. Her words, while so simple, are so monumental. My cock, already painfully hard, throbs in her grip. I pull back just enough to see her face, the vulnerability and determination warring in her eyes.
“Don’t ever be embarrassed to ask for what you want. Daddy likes it when you tell him exactly what you need,” I insist. I capture her lips in a deep, possessive kiss, claiming her mouth and tasting her.
As much as I want to grant her what she’s asking for—and what I so desperately want—there is one crucial detail we have to navigate before this goes any further.
I break our kiss and rest my forehead against hers. “I need to ask you something….” I begin, my voice a low rumble in the darkness as I find myself fumbling for words. I take a breath, deciding that being direct is the best approach. “Are you on birth control?”
The change in her is immediate. A subtle tension coils through her body, and even in the low light, I can see her eyes widen. She bites her lower lip, a nervous habit I am quickly becoming fond of. After a moment that stretches into an eternity, she gives a small, almost imperceptible nod. “Yes.”
The answer surprises the hell out of me.
A wave of something uncomfortably close to jealousy shoots through me.
It is irrational, I know that, but the thought of her preparing for this, for someone other than me, is a bitter pill to swallow.
I hate the idea of some other faceless guy having even been considered to see her like this. She is mine.
As if reading my mind, she rushes to clarify, her words tumbling out, “It was just in case… I never wanted to… But it was better to be prep?—”
“You don’t need to explain,” I cut in gently, my thumb stroking her cheek, needing to shut that panic down immediately. “You having had no partners, or if you have had fifty, has no bearing on how I feel about you. I’m asking because I need to know where it's okay for me to finish.”
Her eyes widen slightly, the tension slowly melting away, replaced by a look of dawning comprehension. “Oh.”
“Oh, indeed.” I smile, a slow, predatory curve tugging at my lips.
I kiss her again, a slow, deep embrace. My lips not leaving hers, I roll us until she is straddling my waist, her knees on either side of my hips.
Her soft, warm weight settles against me, and my cock, trapped between our bodies, twitches in anticipation.
She looks down at me, her hair falling around her face, and her eyes wide with a mixture of excitement and fear. I reach up, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re in control, trouble. You determine where and how fast—or slow—this goes.”
I wrap my hand around hers and drag it between our bodies, flattening her palm against my chest, right over my hammering heart.
I give her a moment to realize mine is pounding as hard as hers.
Then I guide her hand lower, down my stomach, until her fingers brush against my aching length.
“When you’re ready.” My voice is a low, husky command that vibrates through my chest and into hers.
“Grab my cock and put it inside of you.”
Her breath hitches, a sharp, audible sound in the quiet room.
She stares down at me, her eyes a whirlpool of emotions—fear, desire, and a burgeoning determination that is the fucking sexiest thing.
Slowly, hesitantly, she wraps her fingers around my shaft again.
Her touch is still tentative, but there is a new purpose to it.
She lifts her hips, her body hovering over mine, and I watch, my own breath held captive, as she guides the thick, swollen head of my cock to her entrance.
The first contact is as electric as I remember from the supply room.
The slick, wet heat of her against the sensitive tip sends a jolt of pleasure through me so intense, my breath sputters over my lips.
My fingers fist in the sheets so tightly that my knuckles turn white. The pain in my clenched fists is a welcome distraction from the overwhelming urge to bury myself inside her in one hard, deep stroke. I promised her control, and I’ll give it, even if it kills me.
She takes a deep, shuddering breath, her gaze locked on mine. In her eyes, she wrestles with her own body and the unfamiliar stretch and burn. I hold her stare, letting her see my raw hunger and restraint. “That’s it, trouble,” I rasp, my voice barely recognizable. “Take your time. Just breathe.”
She lets out a slow, controlled exhale and begins to lower herself, inch by agonizing inch.
Her tight pussy slowly enveloping me is a form of torture.
My world narrows to the point where our bodies are joined, to the incredible pressure and heat of her pussy surrounding me.
It is better than I could have ever imagined.
She is so fucking tight, a perfect, clenching glove made just for me.
I fight against the urge to move, to buck and drive deeper.
I force myself to stay still, my entire body a rigid, trembling testament to my self-control.
Her palms rest flat on my chest, her fingers digging into my pecs as she uses me for leverage.
Her head is bowed, her hair hiding her face, but I can hear her soft, panting breaths and feel the fine tremors that are running through her body.
“Look at me,” I command. “Eyes on me, trouble.”
Slowly, she lifts her head. Her cheeks are flushed, her lips parted, and her eyes are dark and glassy with a mixture of pleasure and pain. “Daddy.” She sighs. “It’s too big.”
“I’m right here,” I promise, my hands gripping her hips, not to guide, but to steady her. “It’s not too big, trouble. You’re doing so fucking good, working my fat cock into your tight little pussy. You can do it. You can take the whole thing. You were made to take all of me inside of you.”
She finally manages to take the last of me, her body settling against mine, my cock buried to the hilt inside her.
The feeling is so intense and all-consuming, every nerve in my body strains against the desperate need for release.
For a long moment, we lie still, our bodies fused together, our ragged breaths the only sound in the room.