Chapter 12
Nathan
When her eager digits clamp around my cock, I jerk my hips into her small fist, and her eyes grow wide.
She looks down and her mouth slackens. A flash of fear dances across her face.
“Jasmine, baby, look at me,” I say, pure command in my voice.
She does. But the shock lingers. “You are…huge, Daddy.” Her gaze flicks down to her fingers just meeting around my girth.
I love that, even with nerves gripping her, she doesn’t forget our dynamic. Doesn’t lose trust in me.
“No way that is going to fit inside me.” A breathy laugh escapes her and I hear the small thread of excitement in it. She’s scared but God, she still wants it. Wants me to wreck her. “I’m tiny down there.”
I clasp her jaw and tilt it until she looks into my eyes. Until I’m her world. “I know how tiny you are, baby. Had my tongue and my fingers inside you, remember? But don’t worry. We will stretch you so good that it will fit.”
I cup her tits and squeeze them together until her sensitized nipples are like two beacons calling for me. Mouth watering again, I bend and lick them. First this one, then that.
I bury my face in her cleavage. Blow air over the wet peaks, rub my bristle around the soft flesh, until she’s holding my head to her tits, begging me to suck.
Already, I can feel her relaxing around me, one smooth leg drawing up and sliding against my hair-roughened one. Her open pussy lips rub up against my abdomen, leaving her wetness all over me.
Now it’s me who feels marked, owned, claimed.
My weeping cock throbs, begging to be inside her. I give her the prize she wants, suckling on her tits again, while I trace my fingers over her slit, dipping in and out.
Two, then three, giving her shallow thrusts first, then deeper.
She moans and arcs into my touch, and I can feel her stretching around my thick digits. “See, baby? You’re doing much better already.” I give her clit a few taps and she thrusts her hips into my touch. Her hunger is as insatiable as mine and once we get going, fuck, there’s no stopping us.
Morning, noon and night, I’m going to eat her, finger her, fuck her. Until she’s used to me. Until all she wants is me.
“This pussy was made to swallow my cock. We can take as slow and easy as you want.” I stare down into her lust-hazed eyes. “As long as you want it.”
She gives me a tight stroke, her swallow moving down her throat.
Her long pink-tipped fingers look elegant against the broad purple head, already spilling pre-cum.
“I want your cock, Daddy. Even if it hurts. I want anything and everything you give me.” She tries her best to hide it but I hear the thread of distress in it.
Biting away the possessive claim I want to make, I tap the tip of her nose.
When she strokes me again, I arrest her wrist. “That’s enough for now.”
Her feathery brows rise towards her hairline. “Why not?” Her fingers draw circles on my muscled abdomen.
I’m suddenly incredibly grateful for all the daredevil adventures Zayn and his best friend Adam drag me on, and the punishing workouts it demands. “I won’t last long if you keep stroking me. What I want more than anything else is to feel that tight, wet pussy choking me.”
“Can I give your cock one lick, Daddy?” she whines. “Just to get a taste?”
I groan and push her onto her back, pinning her beneath me. Just a week ago, I was lonely, restless, staring down the coming years with resentment. How is this my fucking life now? “No, you haven’t earned it yet, pet.”
Then I line my dick up against her folds, tap the head against her clit, nudge it over and over until she’s writhing under me, her bold request forgotten. Her fingers dig into my biceps, nails scratching.
I stroke my thumb over her clit until she relaxes, then push the head in. Her flesh swallows me whole, tightening my balls.
Just when she stiffens, I dip out. Over and over, I play with her, giving her an inch more every time. And it’s hard to keep it slow, to pull out, to not stroke into her tight cunt until I’m all the way in.
I’ll have a lifetime with her, I remind myself, holding onto the last thread of control. I chant it like a mantra as I keep nudging into her with those shallow thrusts, sweat plopping from my forehead onto her silky-smooth flesh.
“Daddy, that hurts,” she says when I give her a few more inches, but she’s not freezing up on me.
I keep my pace slow, easing deeper with each stroke, murmuring against her mouth. I drag my chest over her nipples. “Look at me, baby girl. Keep your eyes on Daddy.”
Wide eyes meet mine, a wealth of emotion and lust in them. “Getting better, Daddy. Don’t…” her nails dig into the nape of my neck, “leave me again. Please.”
“Just a little more, baby girl and it will get a lot better,” I say, crooning into her sweaty temple. “Not leaving this wet, needy cunt, Jasmine. Never again.”
Then, in one smooth stroke, I pump my hips until I’m all the way inside her. Lodged so deep that the fat head hits her cervix.
Her eyes roll back and her mouth falls open, slack and keening.
For a few seconds, I don’t move—just feel her around me, her legs hooked over my hips, her breath against my cheek. Her snug sheath a vise squeezing me.
It’s perfection, it’s heaven. It’s where I belong forever—deep inside her.
“It feels like you’re here,” Jasmine says, bringing my hand to her chest. Her heart’s thudding away.
“Yeah baby, and I mean to stay there. Build myself a fucking nest.” I draw back and give her the first real thrust.
“Unnggg…” she moans. “Feels so full, Daddy.”
I draw back again, slow, letting her feel every inch of me as I slide out and push back in. Her nails dig into my shoulders, sharp enough to make my jaw clench.
“Still think it won’t fit?” I murmur against her ear. Nip the lobe, lick a line over the shell.
She shakes her head. “It’s… so much but not enough. Still not enough.”
“Good.” My hands lock on her hips, holding her still while I give her another measured thrust, deep enough that her lips part on a gasp. “That means you can take more.”
Her legs tighten around me, pulling me deeper. Her walls clench my cock like they can’t let go. “You’re so perfect, baby, taking Daddy’s cock so well. Such a good slut. Taking me all the way in the first time.”
I set a steady rhythm, every movement deliberate, making sure she feels stretched and full, giving her time to adjust before I push her higher. She’s quaking beneath me, from the pleasure I’m winding tighter with every stroke.
I lower my mouth to hers, swallow every sound she makes. “That’s it, pet. Keep squeezing me like that. Wring every drop of cum from me. It’s all yours.” A possessive thread enters my tone but I can’t hide it away. “Just as this tight, wet cunt is mine. Only mine, baby girl. Only Daddy’s.”
“Only yours, Mr. Grayson.” When she moans into my mouth, I feel it all the way down my spine.
I sneak my hand to her clit and tweak it, even as I keep pumping my hips. And she comes, her walls clenching me so hard that I groan. Her climax unravels my control.
I push her knee toward her chest, opening her up. My breath hitches at the new angle. “More,” I grit out, each thrust harder than the last. “I need more, baby girl.”
“Take whatever you need, Daddy. Fill me up.”
Her eyes are wide, pupils blown, and I can’t look away as I drive into her, the rhythm sharp and relentless now. “You’re perfect,” I tell her, the words falling out in ragged bursts between thrusts. “Every—” slam, “—fucking—” slam, “—inch.”
Her soft gasp feeds me, makes me chase that next thrust, and the next. My fingers dig into her hip, my other hand braced beside her head, caging her in.
“Fuck, baby girl,” I groan, voice rough, “you feel too good. Like the thing I’ve been waiting for without even knowing it. I can’t—” I break off, swallowing the rest, my pace becoming frantic.
When the edge hits, the air’s punched out of me. I swivel my hips one last time and pin her down into the mattress, like a butterfly trapped under a predator’s pins.
On and on my orgasm continues, a line of fire down my spine, pouring out of me and into her.
I hold deep inside her, making sure she takes every drop of me, my praise spilling out in broken murmurs. Awed anew by what this waif of a girl can make me feel after decades of nothingness.
Jasmine
Nathan eases out of me with a slow, careful movement, as if I’m glass. My body clenches at the loss, and I bite back a cry. Every muscle feels loose and molten, melting into the mattress beneath me.
He leaves the bed and my entire world suddenly feels desolate.
Is he already breaking his promise? Or is his desire satiated enough?
I hear movement. Before I can open my eyes, I feel a damp cloth against my core. I flinch from the raw ache between my thighs.
“Sorry,” he murmurs, voice low and raspy. “I lost control completely.”
Opening my eyes, I catch his wrist. The suite is in full darkness now, the rain giving way to silence. I can just make out the lines of his broad chest. “Was it what you needed, Nathan?” I say his name with purpose, wanting him to remember me outside of the fantasy we have fallen into.
“Everything I needed and didn’t know I could have.”
“That’s what I want,” I whisper, my voice thick with exhaustion, “to be what you need.”
Dipping low, he kisses the center of my forehead.
He finishes cleaning me off with slow, unhurried care before pulling the sheet up over me.
Seconds later, he hands me a bottle of water, already open, and waits until I take a sip.
The cool rush down my throat feels like the first breath after drowning.
His palm brushes away damp tendrils from my forehead. “What do you need?”
“You.” I refuse to feel shame over my neediness. He promised me tonight and I’m going to take every moment of it. “The night’s not over yet, is it?”
A slow smile curves his mouth. “Not even close.”
He slides in beside me, curling his body around mine, tucking me into the heat of his chest. The fabric of his sweatpants is warm and soft against the backs of my thighs.
His arm bands low around my waist, and he presses a kiss to my temple—a lingering, steadying touch that sinks all the way through.
I feel cocooned—wanted and cherished even—his warmth chasing away the faint shivers still running through me. The man I love made love to me. Showed me stars and sky. Claimed me like no one else ever had. Apparently, reality can beat out dreams.
And I also know, with a sharp, aching certainty, that it’s going to make walking away so much harder.
But I have to, I remind myself.
“Settle down, little bird,” Nathan whispers at my temple. “I’ve got you.”
Soon, that sense of security I feel near him lulls me. “You didn’t kiss me, Nathan,” I murmur, eyelids weighing down.
His hand strokes down my hair, mouth lingering on my jaw. I don’t hear what he says next; the darkness pulls me under.