Make Me Yours, Daddy

-005-

~*JUNE*~

I know I sound crazy for asking a complete stranger to f**k me.

But I don’t give a damn.

Right now? I'm acting on instinct.

Pure, drunken, angry, heartbroken instinct.

I pull back to stare at his face, and he’s still.

Completely still.

His grey eyes hold my honey brown ones, unblinking.

He stares at me with an emotion I can’t name.

Shock? Disgust? Anger? I’m not even sure.

But one thing is certain: it’s an unpleasing look.

Shame crashes through me so fast I feel sick.

Oh God.

Oh God, what did I just do?

I shouldn’t have asked him to f**k me.

Now he’s going to think I’m insane.

Or desperate.

Or worse—both.

I step back, my heels wobbling against the sticky club floor.

"I... I'm sorry," I stammer, heat flooding my cheeks. "I shouldn’t have... I'm drunk. I didn't mean to—"

His hand shoots out, gripping my waist and yanking me close.

My words die in my throat.

His lips crash into mine, stealing the breath from my lungs, and I’m kissing him back before I can think—before I can stop myself.

My fingers slide into his hair, ruining the perfect arrangement as I cling to him.

He kisses me like he owns me.

Like he's been waiting his whole life to kiss me.

He finally pulls back, just slightly, and his warm breath fans against my lips.

“I’d be more than happy to, love.” He smirks.

I can't help but smile.

He takes my hand, his fingers threading through mine, and tugs me through the crowd.

I follow without thinking, without asking a single question.

The world around me barely registers.

One moment I’m in his car.

Next, I’m in the elevator with him, rising toward a penthouse that probably costs more than I can ever imagine.

And somehow, everything suddenly feels clear. It’s no longer hazy like it was just a few minutes ago.

I should’ve asked the bartender for the strongest stuff he had.

Maybe then I wouldn’t be so aware of the stupid decision I’m about to go through with.

As I stare at our reflection in the polished metal, the air suddenly feels thicker.

For a moment, it’s hard to breathe.

Prince Charming looks flawless in his suit, while I look completely rumpled, with faint streaks of mascara running down my cheeks.

He looks so much bigger than me. He’s six-one, if I’m not mistaken, while I’m barely five-five.

Standing next to him makes me feel ridiculously small, like a toddler.

Okay, maybe not like a toddler, but still… he’s a lot bigger than me.

And that scares the hell out of me, making me want to back out.

But then Tyler’s words echo in my mind: ‘If you want to forget a man, the fastest way is to find a new one. Hit reset. Get a new d**k to make you forget the old one. Simple as that.’

I really want to forget about Andrew, and if going through with this is the only way, I’ll sail this boat.

Don’t back out, I tell myself.

You’re already here.

You asked him for this.

Besides, it’s just a one-night stand. How hard can it be?

The elevator dings and the doors glide open into a room that steals my breath.

Floor-to-ceiling windows stretch before me, the city lights glittering below, and before I can even take it in, his mouth is on mine.

He presses me back and pins me against the wall, kissing me, and devouring my tongue like he hasn’t eaten in days—and I let him.

With a low moan against my lips, he breaks away from the kiss and leads me to the bed.

He settles himself on the edge while I stand in front of him.

“Get on your knees, love and suck my c**k,” he growls, his grey eyes locked on me.

Heart hammering in my chest, I slowly sink down, the cold marble hard beneath my knees.

My fingers shake as they reach for his belt, clumsy and fumbling, while he just watches, unmoving.

I finally get it undone.

The button on his trousers comes next, and then I slide down the zipper.

Even through my slightly drunken haze, with my heart hammering like it’s trying to escape my chest, I don’t miss the look on his face.

He’s grinning.

I pull his trousers down just enough, then hook my fingers into the waistband of his boxers.

I hesitate for one breath.

Two.

Then I pull his boxers down.

His c**k springs free—and smacks me across the cheek.

Literally smacks me.

And it hurts like a b***h.

I jerk back, my hand flying to my stinging cheek.

When I look down, my eyes widen and my mouth goes dry.

In front of me stands the biggest c**k I’ve ever seen—not that I’ve seen many.

But this… this is monstrous.

It's f*****g massive.

Thick. Long. Veined. Perfectly shaped yet absolutely terrifying.

How can someone even have a c**k this big?

This shouldn’t be possible. It shouldn’t belong to a human.

His hand slides into my hair, fingers tangling at the back of my head, and he pulls my face back to look at him.

"Don't just look at it," he says, his voice low and rough. "Start sucking."

I roll my eyes.

Easy for him to say. He’s not the one who has to fit this gigantic c**k in his mouth.

But before I can react, he pushes my face back down—and once again, I’m face-to-face with the thick, long monster.

He grips his c**k, stroking it twice, and then rubs the head against my lips.

"Open up," he growls.

Reluctantly, I open my mouth, and he guides his big c**k inside.

It fills my mouth completely, stretching my lips and pressing against my tongue.

I try to suck, searching for a rhythm, but it’s so hard… literally hard.

Wrapping my hand around the base, I stroke what I can't fit in my mouth, and I hear him groan above me.

The sound vibrates through me, sinking low in my stomach.

His grip tightens on my hair, and then—

He shoves.

His c**k drives deep into my throat.

I gag, my eyes watering and my whole body convulsing.

His hand holds my head in place as he thrusts, choking me with his c**k.

My throat contracts, barely enough air passing through.

I can’t breathe.

Every second feels like I might pass out.

Panic spikes through me.

I shove against his thighs with every ounce of strength I have.

His c**k slides out of my mouth with a wet sound.

I cough and gasp, tears streaming down my cheeks as I struggle to catch my breath.

“Do you want to kill me?” I manage to choke out.

He murmurs something, but I barely hear it.

I’m too busy struggling for air.

Abruptly, he stands, pulling me up with him. “If we carry on like this, we’ll be here all bloody night.”

His hands tighten around my arms as he guides me forward, then places me onto the bed.

With his gaze holding mine, he strips slowly.

His jacket falls first, then his shirt, and as my eyes land on his bare chest, my breath catches for the hundredth time tonight because of this man.

His abs gleam under the soft light, each ridge sculpted, defined, impossibly perfect, like a Greek god carved from marble.

My eyes linger, tracing every line of his body, every shadow and curve, memorizing the way his skin flexes beneath each muscle.

I lie there, frozen, staring up at him, helpless, like a girl caught under a love spell, utterly unable to tear my gaze away.

Slowly, he climbs onto the bed, moving closer, stopping only when he’s directly in front of me.

His hands slide between my thighs, parting them with a teasing firmness that steals my breath and draws a low gasp from deep in my chest.

He smirks, pausing for a heartbeat before settling between my thighs and I melt under the heat of him.

With his grey eyes fixed on me, he leans down and presses soft kisses to my thigh, and that sends shivers darting up my spine, leaving me entirely at his mercy.

Breathless gasps slip from my throat as he trails slow kisses along my thighs, moving higher with each one, every touch leaving a burning trail on my skin.

“You like that, yeah?” he murmurs against the hollow of my inner thigh.

I nod, incapable of speaking. Incapable of forming words.

He places a kiss close to my p***y, then licks the spot slowly as if savoring the taste of me.

A shudder ripples through my body, coiling low in my stomach and sending blood rushing straight to my p***y.

He sucks that spot, and a deep, throaty groan tears from me as my eyes roll back.

Jesus Christ...

This man is doing ravishing things to me, and he’s barely even touched me.

He places a kiss right between my legs, right over my clothed p***y, and my toes curl so hard I think they might cramp.

Shifting, he moves back up and pulls off my shorts, then hooks his fingers into the waistband of my panties, pausing to glance at me before slowly pulling them down.

As he does, his fingers brush against my skin, igniting a tremor through me.

He slips my panties off completely, and my breath hitches as he stares at my p***y.

I catch the smirk on his lips and instinctively try to close my thighs, shy as hell—but he holds my legs apart.

“Don’t be shy, love. You look gorgeous,” he murmurs.

Heat rises to my cheeks at his words.

He pulls his boxers down his thighs and slides closer between my legs.

Reaching for the top drawer beside the bed, he grabs an extra-extra-large condom, then slowly slips it onto his c**k.

As I stare at his c**k, my heart skips, then races a million times faster.

Would I really be able to take his big c**k inside me?

I let out a quiet sigh and stare at the high celling, deciding not to watch.

After all, they say it hurts less when you don’t see it, right?

The feel of his thick c**k head pressing against my entrance drags me straight out of my thoughts.

Not giving me a moment to adjust, he thrusts forward, and a sharp, searing rip tears through my p***y.

I press my hands to his chest. “Wait—it hurts!”

He pauses, just enough for me to catch a breath.

"I haven’t even got the whole thing in," he murmurs. "That’s just the head."

Just the head?

And it already feels like my p***y is about to rip apart.

I shake my head. “I don’t think I can do this.”

“You can,” he says softly. “Just a little more, and you won’t feel a thing.”

“No. I can’t take it anymore. You should stop.”

But he doesn’t.

He pushes forward just slightly, and the pain flares again, making tears prick my eyes.

“I said stop!” My voice shot up.

He keeps moving.

Like I’m speaking to him through a fog.

Like he’s suddenly gone deaf.

Fear coils in my chest, and instinctively my hand shoots out, connecting with his cheek.

Slap.

The sound cracks through the room.

He stops.

He actually stops.

His face turns to the side from the impact, and I see it—a thin line of blood welling up on his cheek where my nails must have scratched him.

My eyes widen. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” I breathe, the words spilling out in a rush. “I’m so sorry—”

He pulls back, lifting a hand to his cheek, touching the blood.

I scramble off the bed, my legs shaking so badly I almost fall.

“I’m s-so sorry… I’m very sorry,” I babble.

My body shakes as fear courses through my veins.

Not knowing what else to do or say, I yank on my shorts, nearly tripping as I shove my legs through them and dash out of the room.