7. Jordan #2
It springs out heavy and flushed dark, the thick head already glistening with pre-cum that beads at the slit and drips down the veined shaft in slow, obscene trails.
The way she stares—lips parted, breath coming in short, desperate pants, like she can’t decide whether she wants to drop to her knees or beg me to ruin her—makes my jaw lock so tight it aches.
My cock twitches visibly under her gaze, another thick drop of fluid leaking out just from the weight of her eyes on me. I wrap my fist around the base and squeeze once, hard, trying to stave off the urge to slam into her right fucking now.
Her hands are shaking where they clutch my shoulders, nails digging through my shirt hard enough to leave marks I’ll wear like badges tomorrow. Inside my chest, something fierce and possessive roars to life at the sight—mine.
This sharp-mouthed, exhausted girl with her leaking tits and her zero-balance pride and her sarcastic armor is mine, and I’m done pretending otherwise. The thought burns hotter than the ache in my balls.
I tug the neckline of her dress lower. Her breasts spill out, flushed and full, veins faintly visible beneath the pale skin, nipples tight and already beading with thin, pearly drops of milk that glisten under the elevator lights.
The sight makes my mouth water. I lean down and latch onto one peaked nipple, sucking hard. She cries out, back arching violently, her fingers flying into my short hair and yanking hard enough to sting my scalp.
Warm, sweet milk floods across my tongue in rhythmic pulses—rich and creamy, the forbidden taste of her stress and need and submission that I’ve been addicted to since the first time I wrapped my lips around her like this.
I groan around her breast, sucking deeper, swallowing every drop while my free hand kneads the soft, heavy weight of the other one. More milk leaks between my fingers, trickling warm and sticky down her ribs.
“Daddy.”
The word is barely a whisper. Broken. Desperate. It hits me like a slap shot to the chest.
I pull off her nipple with a wet pop, a thin string of milk and saliva stretching between my lips and her glistening peak before it snaps.
Her eyes are glazed, cheeks wet with unshed tears of overwhelming sensation.
“That’s right.” My voice comes out thick, gravel dragged over broken glass.
“Daddy’s got you. I’ve got you, baby girl. Every fucking inch.”
I line myself up, the fat head of my cock nudging through her slippery folds, catching on her entrance. She’s so wet it’s obscene—the lewd sound of her arousal filling the elevator as I press forward. I push inside her slowly, inch by thick inch, watching her face the entire time.
Her mouth drops open on a silent cry, lashes fluttering, eyes squeezing shut as her walls flutter and stretch around my girth.
She’s impossibly tight, scorching hot, rippling around me like her body is trying to pull me deeper and push me out at the same time.
The fit is perfect. She’s perfect. And she’s mine.
“Open your eyes.”
She obeys on a shuddering exhale, those blue eyes hazy and unfocused, pupils so wide they look drugged with lust. Her inner walls clench hard around me at the command, milking another inch of my cock into her body.
“Look.” I nod toward the mirrored wall beside us, hips still rocking forward in tiny, controlled thrusts until I’m buried to the hilt, my heavy balls pressed tight against her ass. “Look at yourself, baby girl.”
Her head turns. The mirrors reflect every filthy detail back at us from multiple angles—the way her small body is pinned helplessly to the wall by my much larger frame, dress rucked uselessly around her waist, tits out and leaking, thighs spread obscenely wide around my hips, my thick cock disappearing between her swollen, glistening lips.
My hands grip her ass so hard my fingers sink into the flesh, leaving marks I hope she feels for days. The city lights streak past the glass walls of the elevator far below us, but up here it’s just this—raw, dirty, undeniable.
“You’re so fucking beautiful.” My hips draw back, then snap forward harder, the wet slap of skin on skin loud in the small space.
The wet, obscene sound of my cock plunging deep into her soaked pussy echoes off the elevator walls, mixing with the sharp gasp that tears from her throat.
She's so tight, so damn perfect, her small body jolting against the mirrored surface with every thrust, her leaking tits bouncing between us and leaving warm, sweet trails of milk smeared across my chest.
I fuck her against the wall—deep, steady, relentless—the way I've wanted to since the moment I first saw her like this, wrecked and needy. My mouth latches onto one swollen breast again, sucking hard, drawing another hot rush of her milk across my tongue.
The taste is sweet and faintly salty, flooding my senses, while her heat clenches around my shaft and the desperate little sounds spilling from her lips drive straight to my balls. It's too much.
The slick glide of her cunt, the way her nipples leak against my lips with every pull, the soft, broken whimpers vibrating through her chest—I grit my teeth until my jaw aches, fighting the urge to spill right there. Not yet. She comes first. Always.
"Come on, baby girl." I angle my hips, grinding against that spot inside her that makes her whole body seize and jerk like she's been shocked. Her inner muscles flutter wildly around me, milking my cock with greedy pulses. "Let Daddy hear you scream."
"I—I can't—" Her voice cracks, high and fractured, those blue eyes glassy and desperate as they lock onto mine.
I can feel the tension coiling tighter in her belly, the way her thighs tremble around my waist, but that stubborn little edge in her tone—the one that says she's still fighting even while she's falling apart—makes something dark and possessive roar in my chest.
"You can." My thumb slides between us, finding her swollen clit, circling it with firm, relentless pressure. The slick heat of her arousal coats my fingers instantly. "You're perfect. Every fucking part of you. This needy little pussy, these leaking tits, the way you fall apart for me. All mine."
She breaks.
Her orgasm slams into her, her walls clamping down on my cock so viciously I see white spots burst behind my eyes. A raw, guttural cry rips from her throat—my name tangled with "Daddy" in a sobbing, incoherent mess that echoes through the confined space.
Her body convulses against me, thighs locking around my hips, her leaking breasts pressing hot and sticky into my chest as fresh milk spills between us with every shudder.
I fuck her through every wave, hips stuttering as my own release barrels down on me like an avalanche I can't outrun.
"Good girl." The praise tears from my throat, hoarse and reverent. "Daddy's good girl."
I come hard, buried to the hilt, my cock pulsing as I flood her clenching pussy with thick, endless ropes of come. The relief is blinding, crashing through every muscle until my forehead drops to rest against hers.
My hands soften where they'd been bruising her ass, now cradling her like something precious, tracing gentle circles over the marks I left.
We stay locked together like that—her legs still wrapped tight around me, my spent cock twitching inside her warmth, our mingled scents of sweat, sex, and her sweet milk thick in the air. The raw filth of what we just did fades into something quieter, deeper. Just us.
Her blue eyes flutter open, hazy and sated, meeting mine with a vulnerability that hits me square in the sternum. My thumb drifts up, brushing along the sharp line of her cheekbone, wiping away a stray tear or bead of sweat.
In this suspended moment, suspended between floors with the city glittering far below, nothing else exists. Just her. Just this.
The intercom crackles to life without warning.
We both freeze mid-breath.
"Mr. Scott?" The voice cuts through the humid haze—professional, edged with faint concern. Building security. "Is everything okay? Do you need help?"
Jessica's eyes blow wide, a wild mix of panic and residual pleasure flashing across her flushed face.
Her hand flies up to clamp over her mouth, smothering what comes out as a half-laugh, half-whimper that vibrates against my skin.
I feel her pussy give one last involuntary flutter around my softening cock, and it takes every ounce of my remaining control not to groan.
I reach over without disentangling from her, my arm steady despite the way my thighs still tremble, and press the intercom button. My voice comes out even, controlled—the same tone I use on the ice. Not a single trace of the way I just ruined my stepdaughter against the elevator wall.
"Everything's perfect."
I release the button. The elevator gives a soft lurch and resumes its smooth ascent, the mechanical hum filling the space once more.
Jessica buries her face into the crook of my neck, her shoulders shaking with silent, breathless laughter that turns into soft, wrecked little gasps against my skin.
When she finally pulls back, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief even through the exhaustion, and the grin she gives me is pure, unfiltered joy—breathless, utterly destroyed, and so fucking beautiful it aches somewhere deep in my ribs.
The elevator keeps rising. The sprawling Chicago skyline stretches out beneath us like it belongs to us alone. She's warm and spent in my arms, her cum-slick thighs still locked around my waist, and for the first time in years, my life feels exactly, perfectly aligned with what I want.
Everything's perfect.