DADDY'S LITTLE SLUT

CHAPTER 2

I didn’t make it two steps into the kitchen before I heard the couch creak behind me.

Marcus’s footsteps were heavy on the wood. Slow. Controlled. Like he was forcing himself not to rush. My pulse hammered between my legs. I opened the fridge and bent again, deeper this time, tank top riding all the way up my back so the cool air hit my bare ass and the sticky mess still coating my p***y. I knew he was right there. I could feel his eyes on me like a physical touch.

“Vanessa.”

His voice was lower than usual. Rougher. I stayed bent a second longer, rocking my hips just enough to make my wet lips shift and catch the light, then straightened and turned with a bottle of water in my hand. The tank top was still bunched under my t**s. My n*****s poked hard against the thin fabric. Lower, the hem barely covered anything. If I lifted my arms even a little, he’d see everything again.

He stood in the doorway of the kitchen, one hand braced on the frame. His eyes dragged down my body and stopped right between my legs. I didn’t close them. I let him look. Let him see the shiny wetness still clinging to my smooth folds, the way my c**t was swollen and peeking out.

“You’re not wearing anything under that,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

I twisted the cap off the water bottle and took a slow sip, letting a drop run down my chin and drip onto the top of my t**s. “It’s hot,” I answered, voice soft. “Didn’t feel like it.”

His jaw flexed. I watched his throat work as he swallowed. The front of his jeans was already strained, a thick outline pressing against the denim. God, he was big. Bigger than I’d imagined when I used to touch myself thinking about him.

I set the bottle down and took one step closer. Then another. Close enough that I could smell the faint trace of his cologne and the heat coming off his skin. I reached past him like I needed something from the cabinet behind his shoulder, pressing my chest against his arm. My hard n*****s dragged across his shirt. The contact made my cunt clench.

“Lily’s upstairs,” I whispered near his ear. “She’ll be a while.”

Marcus’s hand shot out and caught my waist. His fingers dug into my bare skin under the tank top, hot and rough. For a second I thought he was going to push me away. Instead he pulled me in harder, until the thick ridge in his jeans pressed right against my lower stomach.

“You bent over on purpose,” he said, voice tight. “Showed me that pretty little cunt dripping all over my floor.”

The word cunt from his mouth made me throb. I rolled my hips against him, rubbing my bare p***y along the hard length trapped in his jeans. Slick smeared onto the fabric. “I’ve wanted you to see it for two years,” I breathed. “Every time I came over I used to go home and finger myself thinking about your mouth on me. About you bending me over this exact counter and f*****g me while Lily was right upstairs.”

His grip tightened. A low sound rumbled in his chest. One of his hands slid down, slow, over the curve of my ass, then lower. Two thick fingers dragged through my soaked folds from behind, collecting the wetness, spreading it. I gasped and pushed back into his hand.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered. “You’re soaked.”

“For you.” I reached down between us and cupped the heavy bulge in his jeans, squeezing. He was so hard it had to hurt. I traced the outline with my palm, feeling the thick head, the ridge of the shaft. “Can I see it? Please, Mr. Hale. I’ve jerked off so many times imagining what your c**k looks like.”

He didn’t answer with words. He spun me around so my back hit the counter, then yanked the tank top the rest of the way up over my t**s. They bounced free. He stared for a second, then his mouth was on me—hot, open, sucking one n****e hard while his fingers shoved two deep into my cunt without warning.

I cried out and grabbed his shoulders, spreading my legs wider so he could push deeper. Wet, filthy sounds filled the kitchen as he finger-f****d me, rough and deep, thumb grinding my c**t. My come was dripping down his hand onto the floor.

“Quiet,” he growled against my tit, biting the soft underside. “Unless you want Lily to hear how wet her best friend’s p***y is for her dad.”

I bit my lip hard and nodded, rocking onto his fingers. He added a third and stretched me open, curling them until my legs shook. I was already close again. The thought of him—Marcus, the man I’d been obsessed with since I was eighteen—knuckle-deep in my cunt while his daughter was upstairs made me clench so hard around him I almost came right there.

He pulled his fingers out suddenly. They were shiny and dripping. He held them up between us.

“Open.”

I opened my mouth. He pushed those wet fingers past my lips and I sucked them clean, tasting myself, moaning around them. His eyes stayed locked on mine the whole time, dark and hungry.

When he pulled them free I whispered, “Please. Let me taste you too.”

Marcus’s hand went to his belt. The metal clinked. He unzipped slow, reached in, and pulled out the thickest, hardest c**k I’d ever seen. Heavy, veined, the head already shiny with precum. It looked angry, flushed dark, and so big I knew it would wreck me.

I dropped to my knees on the kitchen floor without being told.