3. Jordan #3
Inside my head it’s pure chaos: Mine. This is mine now. That sound, that taste, the way she fucking drips for me—never letting her go. Never.
When I pull back, her legs are boneless. She's staring at me like I rewrote her understanding of physics.
I stand, pulling her up with me, and crush my mouth to hers in a filthy, open-mouthed kiss. She moans, low and broken, as she tastes her own slick arousal coating my tongue—sweet, musky, still dripping from my chin.
The sound vibrates straight through my chest, straight to my aching cock, and I swallow every desperate little noise like I’m starving for them.
Her small hand glides down my chest, nails scraping lightly over my abs until her fingers wrap around my throbbing length. The first touch of her soft palm against my heated, veined skin makes me hiss sharply between my teeth, hips jerking forward on instinct.
Fuck, her hand. So delicate, so unsure, yet it’s hers—my baby girl’s—and that alone has my balls drawing up tight, vision whitening at the edges.
She strokes me once, twice—tentative, unpracticed, her grip slick from my own pre-cum that’s been leaking steadily for her. It’s clumsy and perfect and so hot I have to lock my jaw to keep from thrusting into her fist like an animal.
“Let me,” she whispers against my lips, voice husky and wrecked from screaming my name.
Then she drops to her knees on the cool tile, water from the shower still misting over us, her hair darkened and plastered to her flushed cheeks. I’m so fucked. Completely, irreversibly ruined.
Her mouth looks impossibly small as she parts those swollen lips and stretches them around the thick head of my cock. The wet heat envelops me, tight and velvety, and the visual alone—her blue eyes watering, her jaw widening—nearly blows my load right there.
She doesn’t know what the hell she’s doing; every swirl of her tongue is exploratory, every suck a hesitant experiment, but Christ, that innocence makes my dick twitch harder against her tongue.
She’s learning me, tasting the salt and musk of my pre-cum, and the thought alone sends a possessive growl rumbling up from my chest.
“That’s it, baby girl. Just like that—fuck, use that pretty little tongue on me. My sweet stepdaughter.”
She takes me deeper, the ridged roof of her mouth dragging along my shaft until she gags, throat convulsing around the first few inches.
Hot saliva spills from the corners of her stretched lips, dripping down her chin to mix with the remnants of her own cream still glistening there.
She pulls back, gasping, strings of spit connecting her tongue to my pulsing cock, then dives in again with determined fire in her gaze.
“You’re perfect. So fucking perfect for me—taking your stepdad's cock like you were made for it. That’s my good girl, choking on every thick inch.”
Her eyes flick up to mine, hazy with lust, lashes spiked from the shower spray and her own tears of effort. Those blue depths burn with raw need and something deeper, something that says she wants to own this moment as badly as I do.
She hollows her cheeks and sucks hard, tongue flattening along the underside while her hand pumps what she can’t swallow. The wet, obscene sounds—gluck, gluck—echo off the tiled walls, mixing with the steady hiss of the shower and my ragged breathing.
“Baby girl, if you keep doing that—shit, I’m gonna fill that sweet throat?—”
She does it again, eyes locked on mine, daring me, begging me with every flutter of her lashes. My hand fists tight in her wet hair, scarred knuckles whitening as I hold her there.
The orgasm barrels through me—raw, uncontrollable. I come with a deep, guttural growl that tears from my lungs, hips snapping forward as thick, hot ropes of come flood her mouth.
She doesn’t pull away. Her throat works convulsively around me, swallowing every pulsing spurt, the tight squeeze milking me dry while a few pearly drops escape the corners of her lips and slide down her chin.
The sight of her on her knees—lips swollen and glossy, throat bobbing, those blue eyes still fixed on me like I’m her whole fucking world—sears itself into my brain.
I’ll replay this on every road trip, every lonely night, every second I’m not buried inside her. Mine. All fucking mine. That mouth, that throat, the way she gulps me down like she craves my taste—never letting her go. Never.
I pull her up on shaky legs, wrap one arm around her waist to steady her trembling body, and kiss her hard, tasting myself on her tongue now—salty, bitter, mixed with the lingering sweetness of her pussy.
She’s shaking violently against me, small hands gripping my biceps like I’m the only thing keeping her from collapsing, her nipples hard little points dragging against my chest with every ragged breath.
When I finally pull back, her eyes are soft, dazed, pupils blown wide with satisfaction and something vulnerable that punches me straight in the sternum.
I brush my thumb over her bottom lip, smearing the mess there, and push it gently back into her mouth so she can suck it clean.
Oh, I am so fucked.