Sexcapades of Bloodlines{30 WILD × FILTHY × FORBIDDEN SHORT STORIES}

The lock turned. My hand tightened on the edge of my robe, knuckles whitening. I was on my knees on the cold marble before he'd finished crossing the room. He didn't have to tell me. I was twenty-four, and I'd chosen every step that led me to this floor. He sat in the wingback chair. The study smelled of cigar smoke and leather. It used to smell like safety. Tonight it smelled like his rules. He looked down at me with none of the old warmth, only the cold, assessing gaze of a man who owned every inch of what he surveyed. "I watched you all through dinner," he said quietly. "You couldn't sit still. You've been dripping for hours, haven't you, little one?" My throat went dry. I'd felt the shift in him these last weeks. I'd wanted to be enough for him. Just him. One place to hide. But what came out of my mouth was softer than I meant it to be. "I've been greedy, Daddy." He gripped my chin between two thick fingers and tilted my face up until I had to meet his eyes. "Greedy," he repeated, voice low and even. "That's what you've become." He let the silence stretch. "Tonight, one man isn't enough for you. You're going to be shared, Grace." The words settled over me like ice water. My stomach dropped. Terror twisted together with something hotter, and I hated that I couldn't tell which was louder. "Prove your obedience," he said. I was half a second late. I opened my mouth. The moment my lips parted he pulled his thick, heavy c**k free and pressed the broad, flushed head against my tongue. I took him as deep as I could, gagging instantly as the tip nudged the back of my throat. A wet choking sound tore from me. Tears spilled hot down my cheeks. He didn't move at first. Just held me there, letting me feel the weight, the heat, the impossible fullness. One hand fisted in my hair, the other free. I let the robe slide off my shoulders as I bent to him. I tried to hold still, fingers curled against my thighs. My aching breasts tightened with every shallow breath. The cool air hit my exposed skin and made my n*****s pebble even harder. Then he began to f**k my mouth. The second time, he went deeper. The burn in my throat became a raw ache. I gagged again, louder, drool spilling down my chin and dripping onto my heaving breasts. His free hand found my n****e and pinched, twisting just enough to make me cry out around his c**k. My p***y clenched so hard I whimpered. I could feel the wetness running down my inner thighs onto the cold marble. "Take it," he said. "Every inch. Like the greedy little slut you are." He stopped holding back. Deep strokes that punched the air from my lungs with every thrust. I felt it all the way to my shoulders. Couldn't breathe. He pulled me off him, and I collapsed forward, forehead against his thigh, gasping. His hand rested on the back of my head. A key slid into the lock. Footsteps crossed the floor, slow and deliberate, stopping right behind me. I knew better than to turn around.