DIANA
My heart is pounding as I press my mouth to his, savouring every sensation. The fullness of his lips, the soft wetness of his mouth, the taste of his tongue. The size of his dick tenting his trousers.
All of it makes me dizzy; the satiation of my obsession over these last few months is almost more than I can take all at once.
And yet, balanced alongside it is the fear that he could tug away from me at any moment. Change his mind. Come to his senses. Realise who I am.
Does he know? How can he not?
I push the thought out of my mind. Something about being here, seeing me here again, seeing someone else touch me, has broken him.
He wasn’t this desperate last time; he’s kissing me like he needs something; feasting on my mouth like he wants to devour me whole, and the fire building inside me is an inferno I know I won’t survive.
How long will it take him to realise what this is and who I am?
Or perhaps of the burden of my guilt will finally break me, and I’ll be the one confessing and pushing him away.
My friend’s father.
I don’t care. I couldn’t stop if he offered me his entire fortune. Consequences be damned.
Twisting my fingers into his hair, I tug on the longer strands at his nape and return his kiss with fervour, taking everything I’ve denied myself over the last few weeks.
He pushes me against the wall, his erection grinding against my hip. “I want to be inside you.”
“I want that too,” I reply, slipping my hand between us so I can palm his erection through the fabric again. At my touch, he thrusts into my hand like he can’t help himself.
“I’ve missed you,” I say against his mouth. “Ached for you.”
“Yes. Yes,” he replies.
Over his shoulder, people walk past, their faces illuminated in split-second bursts by the strobe light as they head to the private rooms. No one pays us any attention, because here, this is normal. It’s allowed. Within these walls, we can do whatever we like. Freedom.
A freedom cased in lies, but a freedom nonetheless.
He catches my mouth in another kiss. “You’re a goddess.” He kisses my neck, running his tongue up the skin, and my knees almost buckle. “Be mine, for tonight.”
His hand slides up the outside of my thigh, beneath my dress, tucking inside my underwear, squeezing my arse. His eagerness turns me on, even though it’s not for me. Not really. It’s for the character I’ve created; the false identity I’ve taken on within the walls of Deliurim.
Maybe it should hurt that he’s desperate for someone else when he’s all I can think about, but when his fingers are inches from sliding into me, I couldn’t care less who he thinks I am.
“Yes,” I reply, peppering his face with kisses. “I’ll be yours one more time.”
I’m already yours. I’ve been yours since last time. Emotion rolls through me at the words I want to say to him, but never will. If this is my last chance with him, I will enjoy it, and I’ll leave the regrets for later.
He gropes my arse before easing his hand to the front and finding my entrance, dipping his fingers inside. At the first touch, he lowers his head to my shoulder and lets out a low, desperate groan. “Did you have to be so fucking wet for me?”
I grind against his hand. “Rafe…”
“Fuck. Hearing you say my name…” He pumps his fingers in and out of me deeper, harder and faster. “Tell me yours. Tell me your name.”
“No,” I say, the word resounding like a moan of pleasure.
“I need to know who you are. Where I can find you. How I can see you again.”
“No.”
He groans, but I roll my hips harder and faster, arching my back, pressing my tits towards his face. A wave of desire possesses me, and the words that leave my mouth I’d never have dared release if he knew it was me. “Just fuck me. Fuck me like the dirty little whore I am.”
“Fuck.”
The desperate turmoil in his voice makes me heady. He works me with his free hand, making circles over my clit with his thumb. Tingles spark low in my hips as the orgasm builds.
“Did that turn you on? Asking you to fuck me like a dirty little whore?” I gasp through my own arousal, and he nods against my throat. “What if I say please too? Please, Daddy.” Nerves spark through me. The word feels forbidden; wrong. But I like it.
“Fuck no.” He groans, but he thrusts against me anyway. “Not Daddy.”
“But what if I want to?”
Sign me up for therapy later, because all I want is for him to fuck me. He might be Lizzie’s dad, but he’s definitely my daddy.
He thrusts against me again, issuing a firm, “No.”
I ride his fingers, arching my back, cleavage angled towards his face. “Fuck me, Daddy,” I say, ignoring his wishes. “Plunge that big, hard cock deep inside my wet cunt.” He increases his pumps, responding to the way I’m moving against his hand. “Mmm. How about that? You like that, huh?”
A low, not-quite-displeased rumbling sound emanates from his throat. “You could say anything, and it would turn me on. You can call me whatever the fuck you want.” He pushes his fingers further inside me, his voice deep and somewhat bitter when he says, “You have a daddy kink?”
Grinding against his hand, chasing the high of my orgasm that’s shimmering just out of reach, I confess, “For you, yes.”
He hums an appreciative sound, and I’m so wet that when he slides his fingers out, they slip over my clit, faster and faster.
I’m almost ashamed of how quickly he’s brought me so close, but not enough to hold it back.
I want this orgasm. I want it with every fibre of my being.
I want it to sweep me away. To ruin me. To destroy every part of me as I gift it to him. He’s earned it.
I grip his hair, tugging him towards me. “I’m going to come. Fuck, I’m going to come,” I gasp into his mouth. “I want to say your name this time. I want to call it out.”
“Scream it like the dirty whore you are,” he rumbles in my ear.
His words burn through me. “I want you inside me.”
I fumble at his trousers, undoing the button and pushing his trousers and boxers down his hips to release his dick. I moan as I grab his length, so fucking hard, and urge it towards my entrance. He hauls my panties down my legs, and I kick them aside.
“Fuck,” he mutters as he hooks my thigh up over his hip and guides the tip of his cock through my wet lips, sliding it back and forth, teasing us both.
“Oh, my God,” I cry, as the motion reignites the sparks of my imminent orgasm.
“I thought it was my name you wanted to call out,” he growls.
“Yes, yes,” I reply, rubbing myself, slick and wet, against his dick.
His breathing stutters. “If you keep doing that, I’m going to come. And that better not count as my one fucking time.”
“It won’t. It won’t. Inside me, please,” I pant.
He takes a condom from his pocket and tears it open with his teeth. I tease it from him, rolling it over his length, and he watches as I push it right to the base. “There you go, Mr Bastion,” I say on a low breath.
He freezes. I can’t breathe.
He never told me his last name. How the fuck would I know his last name?
He raises his eyes to mine, both of us peering at each other through the masks. He must know. He must know it’s me.
But, standing here with his sheathed dick in my hand, I can’t do anything about it, so I stay in character.
“Fuck me, Daddy,” I whisper.
His eyes flicker with a terrifying darkness, and, holding eye contact, he shoves me back against the wall and sinks into me.
I gasp as my pussy stretches around him, remembering how big he is, and what it’s like to take him. “Oh, oh.”
He. Is. Inside. Me.
Cradling the back of my head so it doesn’t hit the wall, he thrusts, hitting my clit each time, tipping my orgasm over the edge.
“Rafe, oh, shit, Rafe,” I call as I wrap my arms around him, hoisting myself up while he pistons back and forth. I come on his cock, clinging to him, pleasure whirling through me, stars bursting in my vision. “Rafe, Rafe, Rafe.”
The freedom to say his name in this scenario is as much of a turn on as he is, pressed up against me this way. I’ve waited too long for it, agonised over whether it would ever happen again.
He cups a hand over my mouth, stifling me. I moan against it.
“I don’t want the whole of fucking London to know I’m here,” he says.
I laugh against his palm. The music thumps around us, the corridor cloaked in darkness, the figures passing by are nothing more than shadows seeking their own pleasure, and for a few moments, it’s just me and him. Delicious and forbidden, and wrong in a way that’s never felt so right.
His rhythm slips, and he jerks, his thrusts growing wild as he comes. Tipping his head back, exposing his prominent Adam’s apple and the dark stubble over his throat, he rasps a desperate, “Fuuuuck,” and falls against me, his chest heaving. “I’m going to hell for this.”
I prise his head from my shoulder, cupping his cheeks, forcing him to look at me. “Take me with you.”