FORBIDDEN: CRAVING DADDY TOUCH

009

"Beautiful," he murmurs, almost to himself. "Absolutely perfect."

The praise washes over me, but it’s distant, drowned out by the sudden, blinding pressure as Tristan thrusts forward. He enters me with a guttural groan that vibrates through his chest and into mine. His c**k is thick, an unyielding intrusion that forces my body to accommodate him in a single, breathless stroke. I cry out, the sound tearing from my throat as my muscles stretch around him, the sting of the stretch blurring instantly into a heavy, throbbing heat.

My hands fly out, desperate for an anchor, and my nails dig into the hard ridge of his bicep. I scratch him, leaving red welts on his skin, but he doesn’t flinch. If anything, the pain seems to spur him on. He withdraws slowly, torturously, leaving just the flared head of his c**k inside me, teasing my entrance. My inner walls clench around the emptiness, trying to drag him back in.

Then he slams into me again, deeper this time, hitting a spot so deep and sensitive that my vision whites out. I throw my head back, a broken moan spilling from my lips. I’ve never felt this before—never felt this full, this possessed. He’s hitting a place inside me that makes my eyes roll back, a place I didn’t even know existed. Every thrust feels like he’s reshaping me, carving out a space that belongs only to him.

He doesn’t stop. He establishes a rhythm, relentless and punishing, his hips snapping against mine with a wet, slapping sound that echoes through the room. And then his hand moves between us, his fingers finding my c**t. He rubs tight, agonizing circles over the bundle of nerves, matching the tempo of his thrusts. The dual stimulation is too much—it’s electric, overwhelming, a storm I can’t ride out.

"You feel so good," he growls, his voice rough, strained with the effort of holding back. "So tight. Like you were made for me."

I can’t form words. I moan, a low, keening sound, as my body begins to tremble. Sweat coats our skin, slicking the friction between us, making the slide of his body against mine effortless and devastating. The pressure builds low in my belly, a tight, twisting knot that demands release.

"Tristan, please," I gasp, but I don’t know what I’m begging for.

"I’m close," he grunts, his rhythm faltering, becoming erratic. "c*m for me, now. Let me feel you."

The command snaps something inside me. The knot in my belly unfurls violently, and I c*m, my release explosive and uncontrollable. I c*m everywhere, soaking the sheets beneath us, the fluid gushing out of me as my p***y spasms around his thick c**k. He groans, burying himself to the hilt one last time, and I feel him pulse inside me, filling me with hot, thick ropes of his c*m.

For a moment, the room spins, the only sound our ragged breathing. Thank god I’m on the pill, I think dazedly, the thought floating disconnected in my mind. He collapses against me, his weight heavy and grounding, his c**k still twitching inside me as he empties himself.

He turns his head, his lips seeking mine, but I turn my face away, my cheek pressing into the sweat-damp pillow. I can’t kiss him. I can’t give him that.

"Just s*x," I murmur, my voice weak but firm. "No kissing."

He stills against me, his breath hot on my neck. I feel the curve of his lips against my skin before he pulls back to look at me, a dark, dangerous smirk playing on his mouth.

"Then that’s all you’ll get," he says, his voice dropping, heavy with intent.

Before I can react, he grips my waist and flips me over. I land on my back, breathless, and he’s on me instantly, thrusting into me again. He’s still hard, still thick, and the sudden intrusion makes me gasp. His hips snap fiercely, driving into me with a renewed urgency.

"You’re mine," he growls, his breath hot against my neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there. "Every inch of you."

I moan, my body overwhelmed, the pleasure spiking again, sharp and demanding. Sweat beads on my forehead, runs down my temples, as he f***s me with a brutal precision. I’m nothing but sensation, a vessel for his need, and the realization sends a fresh wave of heat through me.

Suddenly, he pulls out, leaving me empty and aching. He stands up, his chest heaving, and sits on the edge of the bed, leaning back against the mattress, his legs spread wide. His c**k stands proud against his stomach, glistening with our combined fluids. He gestures for me to come closer, a silent command in his eyes.

My legs shake as I move toward him, the muscles weak and uncooperative. When I reach him, he turns me, positioning me so my back is to him.

"Sit," he orders.

I obey, straddling his thighs. I reach down to grip his c**k, guiding it to my entrance, and slowly lower myself onto him. I slide down inch by inch, taking him in until I am filled to the brim, the head of his c**k pressing deep against my cervix. I gasp at the fullness, the stretch, the sheer size of him.

"Ride me," he commands, his hands gripping my hips.

I lift myself up, my thighs burning with the effort, and drop back down. I set a rhythm, bouncing on his lap, taking him deep. He meets my movements with small upward thrusts, hitting that spot inside me that makes me see stars.

"That’s it," he groans, his voice thick with lust. "Take it all. You look so f*****g good like this."

I moan, holding onto his thighs for support, my head falling back. But my body is giving up. The pleasure is too intense, stealing my strength. My movements slow, then stop, my thighs trembling too much to continue.

Tristan doesn’t miss a beat. He wraps his arms around my waist, holding me tight against his chest, and begins to thrust up into me. He f***s me hard, his hips pistoning, driving his c**k deep inside me as if I weigh nothing at all.

"I can't... it's too much," I cry out, my voice desperate.

He stands up, lifting me effortlessly, his c**k still buried deep inside me. He carries me across the room, my legs wrapping around his waist instinctively, and walks toward the floor-to-ceiling glass wall. The city lights outside blur into a kaleidoscope of color, the world beyond the glass nothing but a smear of light and shadow.

He presses me against the cold glass, the shock of the temperature against my overheated skin making me gasp. He thrusts into me, hard and deep, pinning me to the window.

"Tristan," I moan, my fingers clawing at his shoulders. "I’m close. It’s coming... I need to use the toilet."

"No you don’t," he growls in my ear, his thrusts increasing, becoming erratic, desperate. "You’re going to let go right here. Let it go."

The pressure is unbearable, a tidal wave rising inside me. He thrusts harder, deeper, his c**k hitting that spot over and over until I can’t hold back.

"f**k!" he groans, his grip on me tightening almost to the point of pain.

I scream as the orgasm tears through me, my body convulsing, squirting hard all over his c**k and the glass in front of us. The pleasure is blinding, a white-hot explosion that wipes out everything else. He gives a few more final, deep thrusts, drawing out every last shock of sensation, before stilling inside me.

I go limp in his arms, exhausted, my head lolling against his shoulder. My heart hammers against my ribs, my breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

"f**k," he whispers, holding me tight against his chest, his voice softening. "You’re perfect."

The world fades at the edges, the darkness closing in. I can hear his heartbeat, strong and steady beneath my ear, as I pass out in his arms, his last words fading into the quiet.