3. GEORGIE #3
"Say it again." The command brooks no argument. "Right fucking now, Georgie."
"Daddy." Quieter this time. Testing.
The growl that rips from deep in his chest vibrates straight through my bones, raw possession wrapped in gravel and smoke. He slams the rest of his massive length inside me with one merciless thrust, stretching my walls to their burning limit.
Pain and pleasure bleed together so completely that I can’t separate the sharp sting from the liquid heat flooding my veins. Every thick inch of him claims territory I didn’t know I had, forcing my slick walls to flutter and squeeze around the brutal invasion.
“That’s right, baby girl.” His voice is wrecked, torn between menace and worship as he drags his hips back only to piston forward again, setting a punishing pace that makes the heavy wooden headboard crack against the plaster wall like thunder.
“I’m your daddy now. Going to take care of you.
Protect you. Fill this sweet pussy every single day. ”
His stubble scrapes over the tender swell of my breast a heartbeat before his hot mouth latches on, sucking so viciously that fresh milk spurts across his tongue in rhythmic pulses.
The wet heat of his lips and the greedy pull of his throat send lightning arcing down my spine, straight to where his cock batters against the deepest part of me.
My fingers twist into the crisp sheets, knuckles white, while the obscene slap of sweat-slick skin fills the room alongside my broken cries.
“Mine.” The word rasps against my flushed skin, more animal than man. “Every inch of you belongs to me. You understand?”
“Yes—God—yes, Daddy—” The title falls from my lips like a prayer I can’t stop repeating, each syllable winding the coil tighter inside my belly.
“That’s my good girl.” He angles his hips, driving even deeper, and white-hot sparks detonate behind my eyelids.
The new angle lets the thick head of his cock drag over that devastating spot with every savage stroke, forcing my thighs to tremble uncontrollably around his narrow waist. “Going to put a baby in you. Watch that belly swell with my child again and again and again.”
The image should freeze the blood in my veins—should make me scramble away from this terrifying, powerful man who now owns every breath I take.
Yet all it does is flood me with a dark, aching hunger so intense my inner muscles ripple greedily around him.
I can almost feel it already: the heavy, rounded weight of my stomach growing with his baby, my breasts even fuller and constantly leaking for him, my body reshaped and marked as his property in the most permanent way imaginable.
“Yes.” I drag my nails down the rigid muscles of his back, feeling them flex and jump beneath my fingertips. “Breed me, Daddy. Make me yours.”
“Fuck.” The curse sounds torn from his soul, low and guttural.
His hips lose their rhythm, snapping forward with feral intensity that shoves me higher up the mattress with every thrust. The coarse hair on his chest scrapes over my sensitive nipples while the heavy, musky scent of his skin surrounds me completely.
“You want that? Want your stepdad to fill this tight cunt until you’re dripping? Knock you up and keep you pregnant?”
“Please—oh God—please, Daddy—” The words dissolve into desperate sobs as fresh milk leaks between us, smearing warm and sticky over both our chests.
His mouth seals over my nipple once more, sucking with bruising force while he ruts into me like a beast in heat. The relentless tug at my breast matches the pounding rhythm between my legs, until every nerve in my body feels stretched past endurance.
The wet heat of his tongue, the iron grip of his hands on my hips, the filthy vows pouring into my ear—they crash over me until I can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t do anything but feel.
“Come for me, baby girl. Come on Daddy’s cock.”
The command detonates inside me. My orgasm rips through every limb with shattering violence, tearing a raw scream from my lungs as my walls clamp down around his pistoning length in rhythmic, devastating spasms.
Sharp, electric pleasure borders on pain, pulsing outward until even my fingertips tingle. He follows with a harsh, broken groan that vibrates against my breast, burying himself to the hilt as thick, scalding jets of his release flood my depths.
The heat seems endless, pulse after pulse painting my insides, claiming me so thoroughly I know I’ll carry the evidence of him for days.
We stay locked together, both gasping for air, his massive frame pressing me deep into the ruined sheets while lingering aftershocks tremble through my core.
When he finally lifts his head, droplets of my milk cling to his lips and drip from the stubble on his chin, his dark gray eyes still glazed with raw, lingering hunger.
He kisses me then—deep, possessive, utterly claiming—his tongue sliding against mine so I taste the sweet cream we just made together. The flavor lingers between us, filthy and intimate and perfect.
“You’re mine, baby girl.”