Wet & Wicked: Forbidden Collection Of Lust

Twice As Dirty (III)

ELARA’S POV~

My feet weren't moving. Like, literally, my brain was screaming "RUN, YOU i***t!" but my legs were just... stuck. Glued to the expensive rug.

Hugh was standing there. Naked. And I mean, really naked.

The sun was hitting him in a way that made the grey in his hair look almost silver, but his body? His body was all heat and muscle and this terrifying, heavy energy. He wasn't covering up. He was just... stroking his c**k. That massive, scary thing between his legs.

"You hear me, Elara?" he asked. His voice wasn't loud, but it felt like it was inside my head. "I said turn around. Go to your room."

I should have run. I swear, I should have. But my eyes? They had a mind of their own. They dropped.

Oh my goodness.

He was huge. Like, actually huge. His hand looked almost small wrapped around the base of his c**k**, and the skin... it was pulled so tight it looked like it might burst. I could see the veins. Actually see them, thick and blue, popping out as he pumped himself.

And the tip... it was wet. Shiny. A drop of clear pre-c*m was just sitting there, threatening to fall.

"I... I can't," I breathed out. The words just slipped.

Hugh stopped moving. His whole body went still, except for his chest, which was rising and falling way too fast.

"Can't what?" he growled. He stepped closer. The air got thin. "Can't look away? Or can't stop thinking about what that c**k would feel like? In your hand? In your p***y?"

"I'm not—" I tried to lie, but my voice cracked.

He was right there now. The head of his c**k was right in front of my face. I could feel the heat coming off him. It was like standing in front of an open oven.

It smells like him. Salt and sweat and... sin.

"I see it," he whispered. He reached out, his knuckles grazing my cheek. His hand was rough, covered in calluses. "You want Daddy to stop. But you want him to make you."

He leaned down. His breath was hot on my ear. "You came back for the clip? Or because you heard me? Because you wanted to see if the rumors were true?"

He moved his hand again. Slow. A long, sticky drag from the bottom to the top.

"Did you want to see how a man strokes his c**k, Elara? See what happens when he can't control himself around his little girl?"

"Daddy, please," I sobbed. It was wrong. It was so wrong. He was my guardian. "We can't... Mom..."

"Mom's gone," he cut me off. It sounded harsh, but his voice was shaking. "Who's gonna stop us, huh? You? Or this?"

He pressed his hips forward. The tip of his c**k brushed my dress. Right on my hip bone.

I gasped, my knees actually buckling.

He caught me. His grip was like iron. He held me up, trapped between his naked body and the door.

"Daddy's busy, Elara," he murmured. "Daddy's trying real hard to be a gentleman. But you're looking at me like you want to taste the very thing you're afraid of."

He pushed forward again. Just a little. The heat burned through the silk of my dress.

"Now," he commanded. "Be a good girl. Turn around. Walk away. Before I forget I'm supposed to be your father... and show you what I do to bad girls who stare at my cock."

"I... I shouldn't," I whimpered.

But my hand was moving.

I don't even know why. It was like I was possessed.

Hugh groaned. Actually groaned. A sound that vibrated in his chest. "Please, Elara. Just... help Daddy. Just a little."

He grabbed my right hand. His palm was sweating, burning hot. He pulled me down, past his stomach, through the hair...

"Touch it," he begged. His eyes were wild. "Just the tip. Be a good girl, Elara. Just for a second."

What am I doing?

I reached out. My fingers were shaking so bad. I touched the tip.

Holy s**t.

It was like touching a hot stone wrapped in silk. It pulsed. Like, a real, living heartbeat against my finger. And it was wet. Slick with pre-c*m.

"Good girl," he hissed. His head fell back. "Yeah. Rub it, baby. Spread the pre-c*m around for Daddy."

I did. I circled the head with my finger. The pre-c*m was sticky, salty. I could smell it now, strong and musky, right in my face.

"Look at that," he growled. He was watching my hand. Watching me touch him. "Look how hard you make me. Look how much c*m I have for my little girl."

He thrust his hips. More of his c**k slid into my hand. I couldn't even close my fingers around it. It was too thick. Too much.

"Hold it," he ordered. "Help Daddy hold it. It hurts, Elara. It hurts so bad."

I wrapped my hand around his c**k.

Oh my goodness

The weight. It was so heavy. And hot. So incredibly hot. I could feel the vein jumping against my wrist.

"Yes," he groaned. He put his hand over mine. "Like that. Daddy's good girl. You're so brave."

He started moving my hand. Up. Down.

At first, it was slow. Then it got faster. The sound was... wet. Slapping skin on skin.

"Feel that?" he panted. He was thrusting into my fist now. "Feel what you do to me? That's all you, sweetheart. Every drop of cum."

I was crying. Tears were running down my face. But I didn't stop. I could feel my own p***y clenching, getting wet, soaking my panties just from touching him.

"Daddy," I sobbed. I was pumping his c**k so fast my arm hurt. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry it hurts."

"Don't be sorry," he growled. He was moving frantic now. "Just... don't stop. Please, baby. Don't stop touching Daddy's cock."

"Daddy… it’s so hot.” I almost sobbed, my hand slick with his pre-c*m, sliding up and down his massive, throbbing c**k. "It's… it's too big. It's too much."

Hugh’s eyes snapped open, wild and dark, his chest heaving like a bellows. He looked like a man possessed, a sinner dangling over the edge of hell, and I was the only thing holding him back.

"Shh," he growled, his large hand clamping over mine, his fingers digging into my knuckles, forcing me to keep pumping him. "You don't get to stop now, sweetheart. Not when Daddy is so f*****g close."

He shifted, his hips snapping forward into my fist with a frantic, desperate rhythm. The sound of his wet skin against mine was loud, wet, and obscene in the quiet room.

"It's dry, Elara," he panted, his voice strained, cracking under the weight of his lust. "Daddy needs it wet. Be a good girl... spit on it."

My eyes went wide. "Daddy, I—"

"Now’" he commanded, his hand leaving mine to grip my jaw, tilting my face up roughly. "Spit on Daddy's c**k, Elara. Help him. That's what good girls do."

I hesitated for a split second, fighting the shame, but the look in his eyes, the pure, animal hunger, broke me.

I leaned forward, my lips trembling, and I gathered a thick wad of saliva in my mouth and let it fall.

It hit the head of his c**k with a wet plop, sliding down the shaft, mixing with the pre-c*m that was already glistening there, making it shine.

"Good girl," Hugh groaned, his eyes rolling back in his head. "Now... blow on it. Cool Daddy down, baby. Blow on it."

I did as I was told. I leaned in, my breath hot against his slick, angry skin, and I blew. The air hit the wetness, making him shiver violently, a low growl rumbling deep in his chest.

"f**k," he hissed, his hand fisting in my hair, not pulling, just holding on for dear life. "You're killing me, Elara. You're killing Daddy."

He looked down at me, his hazel eyes burning into mine.

"On your knees, sweetheart," he whispered, the command soft, but dripping with filth. "Daddy needs to look at you while he... while he finishes. Get on your knees for Daddy."