Chapter 4 #3
I see where his erection pushes out on his jeans. Even as I battle to keep my eyes on his, I can’t. He shifts his feet as rugged fingers explore and examine me. I know the hungry look on his face isn’t just because he didn’t eat enough dinner.
I’m sheltered, I know that. My father kept a short leash on me, but once he was gone, Reuben turned that into practically a choke chain.
But I see things. On the street, online, the winding pull in my belly and the twisted knot in his forehead tell me we are playing very close to a fire that could burn us both.
But I don’t want to stop. I need this. I need his touch, the way he’s petting me slow and steady, then working his fingers on my clit, up and down, his pupils blown out as they stay pinned on my face as my thrums like a hummingbird, and I’m overheating in all my most intimate spaces.
“No one has touched you before, have they? Say fucking no, baby, or my next question will be who, and trust me when I say, their lives will be forever changed when I find them.”
I shake my head as the pads of his fingers find that aching, needy spot at the top of my pussy. “No one,” I whimper, as he keeps stroking, stroking, as my legs shake and my hands dart out to take hold of the armrests with my eyes rolled back half into my head.
He’s petting me there, working my clit in ways I’ve dreamed about for so long. That ball of tightness below my belly button is turning into a knot, and when I finally open my eyes again, he’s still just staring at me.
We lock eyes, and I see the man who helped raise me. That gray at his temples, the lines around his blue eyes, the wisdom I’ve trusted for as far back as I can remember, now twisted into this perversion that has us both locked in its meaty hooks.
The corner of his mouth ticks up, a rare view of those white teeth, a flash of gold from the one that was knocked out by my own father when they had a teenage fight over something neither of them could ever remember.
I fill my lungs with a gasp as he lowers his face in one surging motion, sucking my elongated clit between his lips in one slick, tugging motion, and I nearly bolt off the chair.
My. God.
His tongue flicks me there and there and there, his other fingers pushing again, just inside my opening, then more sucking, then a thick finger is inserted deeper into my tightness as wet, sucking sounds fill the auditorium, amplified through the speakers, both from his mouth and the way my body leaks enthusiastic approval of what he’s doing down low.
Pleasure turns to sweet, agonizing darts and spears as I scream and kick. My foot connects to one shoulder before his free hand comes to take me by the ankle, pushing my leg up and outward until the tendons at the top of my thigh scream and tremors wrack my body.
The world turns molten, and I curse like one of the dirty men on the cement crews on a job site. My vision blurs, but I catch his eyes on me as he draws my clit back through his lips, tongue gliding around the end as the tips of his teeth pinch at the base.
Nothing feels real. It’s too much. He licks, pinches, licks more, and heaven and hell come to rest on my chest beside the microphone as the devil eats me out and sends me careening like an out-of-control freight train, straight into an orgasm from which I’m sure I will never recover.
I’m panting and writhing, my throat raw as the blackness takes my vision and spasms lock down every muscle. When I finally return from the abyss, Reuben is standing over me. He’s staring down like he’s just witnessed some celestial miracle.
His eyes are filled with awe and darkness. The combination is just another shot of this intoxicating drug he introduced me to.
My core clenches as I work my way back up to a sitting position. “Daddy,” I croak, the word feels different now, sinister but charged, and everything feels different.
“Legs open,” he growls when I start to peel my bent knees off the armrests. “I’ve been waiting to see what you look like with your legs spread for me for too long. I’m not done looking yet.”
That heat doubles down, a hot sheen of sweat covering my skin, my heart thumping as I clear my throat and exhale on a sigh.
“Daddy…” I start, the word so decadent on my tongue, forcing confidence into my voice this time.
“What, princess?”
“Do you ever… You know… Touch yourself, when you think of me?” The lack of blood in my brain has turned off my filter, I think. I would have never, ever asked him that ten minutes ago.
“Yes, baby. For longer than I should admit.”
A wicked pride fills my chest. “Could I… I mean, could you show me how you do it? So that I don’t feel so embarrassed?”
He steps back, pressing his hands on the sides of his nose on a loud exhale, palms covering his mouth as the seconds tick by, and my breath stalls as I stare at the tent in the front of his jeans. “You want to see, do you?”
I nod. “Yes… Please…” I nod again, faster, over and over. “Pretty please,” I add, then deliver the final blow. “With a cherry on top,” I whisper the last bit right into the top of the microphone, and it surrounds us with more than just my voice.
I’ve thrown down the gauntlet, and I run my tongue along my lower lip to see if he’s going to pick it up.
He does. But it’s the microphone he takes, lifting it off my chest and setting it on the chair next to me, clicking the button on the side to off.
“Then you take it out, princess. Be a brave little girl and take Daddy out.”