He releases me with a groan, leaning back on his heels. The look of satisfaction in his eyes is the sexiest thing I've ever seen. Sin has a corporeal form. It's him on his knees between my legs with my juices dripping down his chin onto his chest.
"Damn, pretty baby," he breathes, his gaze raking like fire over my body. "Did that feel as good as it tasted?"
"Daddy," I mumble, boneless, formless…ruined.
He wipes my juices off with the back of his hand and then helps lift me into a seated position. He holds onto me, chuckling when I sway.
"Steady, baby girl," he croons, pressing his lips to my temple. "Let daddy get this shirt off of you."
I hum an agreement, letting him do what he wants.
He chuckles again and then pulls it off over my head, holding me carefully because my body won't cooperate with my attempts to help him. As soon as the shirt is out of the way, he undoes my bra and slides it off too.
He lays me back gently, carefully brushing my hair to the side so I don't lay on it. He's so tender, so sweet, taking care of me like I'm the most important thing in the world to him. I never imagined that he could be like this or that I could feel like this…so cherished. So loved.
"Are you on birth control, Milan?" he asks, jerking his sweats the rest of the way off.
I shake my head, my gaze fixated on his cock. God, he's beautiful there, so long and thick and hard. Precum drips from the slit, wetting it. He wraps a hand around his shaft and squeezes as his eyes rove over me again, hot and wild.
"I'm not wearing a condom," he says.
"What if… What if I get p-pregnant?" I whisper, pressing my thighs together at the thought.
He arches a brow, hitting me with another look that's pure sin. He falls forward, catching himself on his forearms at the last minute. His lips land against my cheek and then slide toward my ear. "Then the whole world will know that you let daddy take what belongs to him, Milan."
"Daddy," I moan, his wicked words setting off another detonation in my belly.
"I want them to know," he whispers.
"M-me too." I writhe beneath him. "Please."
He takes my mouth in a deep kiss, not holding back anything. He pours his entire soul into it, marking me with his obsession and his need, with his devotion and adoration. He claims me, possesses me…makes me fall a little bit deeper. I taste myself on his lips and love it.
By the time he breaks away, I'm trembling again, aching again.
He leans back, sliding one hand around my thigh to hook it over his hip. His erection lands against my center. He notches it at my entrance and then groans, sliding his other hand up my stomach and then between my breasts. He wraps it around my throat, lifting my head up to make me watch.
"I love you," he whispers.
"Daddy," I whisper back.
He thrusts forward in one hard move. My body resists the intrusion for a split second and then he's inside of me, tearing through my hymen. He doesn't stop until the head of his cock nudges my cervix and he's buried balls deep.
Pain and pleasure rip through me in tandem, tangled so tightly I can't tell where one ends and the other begins. He's so damn big he brings tears to my eyes. I writhe beneath him, caught in a sticky web of pleasure and pain and overwhelming joy. It hurts and doesn't hurt enough.
"Breathe, baby girl," he croons, holding himself perfectly still to let me adjust. He releases my throat long enough to brush my tears away with gentle fingers before returning it to my throat. "The pain will stop in a minute, I promise. Just breathe for me."
I don't want it to stop.
"Daddy," I moan, trying to tell him that. "D-don't stop."
"Milan, baby girl."
"You feel s-s-so good inside me. I like the way it hurts."
Whatever control he has left, I steal with that simple whispered truth. He roars my name, yanking my thigh up higher on his hip. And then he starts to move. Even though I've broken him, he still starts slow, trying to take care of me. That ends when I cry out his name and claw down his chest, pleading for more.
He pounds into me then, fucking me so hard each deep thrust reverberates through me like a gong. His hand stays wrapped around my throat, pinning me to the bed as years of pent-up lust and desire explode around us. We're both wild with need, lost to each other and the pleasure.
He doesn't treat me like I'm breakable when he's inside me. He fucks me like he means it. Like I've been slowly driving him mad since the day he met me. He gives and takes, knocking me breathless again and again.
"Fucking hell, little girl," he growls. "How is daddy supposed to stay out of this cunt now?"
"Don't!" I sob back at him. I want him to stay exactly where he is, pounding into me so hard I can't catch my breath or see anything but him. No one warned me it would be this intense, this addictive. No one told me that he'd claim my virginity and steal my soul at the same time.
"Never," he vows, pressing his lips to mine. And even though he's fucking me hard enough to rattle the bed, his kiss is soft, sweet, full of adoration. "Never, princess."
I claw down his back, writhing and contorting beneath him, completely lost in him and the way he makes me feel. I've never felt this wild or free before, not even when he spanked me. I take everything he gives me and demand more, more, more. I'm greedy for it, desperate to possess him as thoroughly as he possesses me.
He pinches my nipple, and then bites the other. Releases his grip on my hip to play with my clit. He's all over me, playing with my body as if he owns it. As if he knows exactly where to touch me to make me moan and beg…exactly what I need to send me barreling over the edge.
My inner muscles clamp down on him, an orgasm blooming in my belly.
"Yes," he groans when he feels it. "Scream for daddy, baby girl. Break for me."
I do, wailing his name so loudly my throat hurts as the orgasm rips me savagely apart. I forget to breathe; forget I even know how to pull air into my lungs. The world ruptures down the middle, cracking right in half before slowly reforming. When it does, I'm no longer the lonely girl afraid to get too close, or the brat desperate to be loved. I'm both and neither. I'm his brat, his baby girl. Exactly like I was always meant to be.
"Milan," he roars, slamming into me without rhythm once. Twice. A third time. He roars my name again as his world cracks apart too. He spills into me in a heated rush that warms me from the inside out. He pumps his hips, groaning as he fills me full of him and what we just did together.