Wet & Wicked: Forbidden Collection Of Lust

Twice As Dirty (XI)

Hugh’s POV~

I had her pinned against the mattress, my weight pressing her deep into the silk, the four-poster bed creaking under us.

Her chest was heaving, those full, perfect t**s we’re straining against the torn fabric of her dress, rising and falling like she’d just run a mile.

"You said you hated me," I whispered, my voice was a low, gravelly rumble that vibrated in the heavy air between us. "But your hips... your hips are grinding up against me like a b***h in heat, Elara."

I saw shame flash in her eyes, the dark flush creeping up her neck, staining her cheeks.

"Daddy, please," she sobbed, her hands coming up to push at my chest again.

I caught her wrists in one hand, pinning them above her head with a grip that brooked no argument. Then, I brought my other hand up.

I didn't grab her neck to hurt her. Not yet. I placed my palm flat against her throat, feeling the frantic pulse of her carotid artery hammering against my skin.

"You feel that?" I asked, my thumb stroking the delicate column of her throat. "That's your heart, little bird. It's racing. And it's not racing because you're scared of me."

I lowered my head, my lips brushing the shell of her ear, my hot breath making her shiver violently beneath me.

"It's racing because you know exactly who I am," I growled, my hips rolling forward, grinding the heavy, rock-hard length of my c**k still trapped in my trousers, thank God, or I'd be inside her already… against the heat of her p***y. "You know I'm not your 'stepdad' right now. I'm the man who owns this room. The man who owns you."

I applied a little pressure to her throat. Just enough to make her gasp, just enough to cut off the air for a second, making her eyes go wide and dark.

"That's Daddy's good girl," I hissed, my hips moving in a slow, torturous grind that rubbed the seam of my trousers right against her c**t through the silk. "Taking my weight. Taking my denial. You're so wet, Elara. I can feel it through the fabric. Is this what you do when you think of your 'brother'?"

"No," she choked out, her legs wrapping around my waist, pulling me tighter against her. "No, Daddy. It's... it's you."

"Say it again,**" I commanded, my hand tightening just a fraction more on her throat. "Say what you are. Tell your Daddy the truth."

"I'm..." she sobbed, her back arching, pressing those gorgeous t**s harder against my chest. "I'm... I'm a dirty girl."

"Louder," I snarled, my free hand sliding down her body, tracing the damp valley between her breasts, down over her stomach, then I reached the hem of her dress. I yanked it up, exposing her thighs, the heat radiating off her almost burning my hand. "Tell me who you belong to. Tell me whose c**k you're grinding on right now, even though it's still covered in wool and cotton."

"I belong to you!" she cried out, the admission tearing from her throat like a scream. "I belong to Daddy!"

"That's my girl," I groaned, releasing her throat and sliding that hand down to the buttons of my trousers. The sound was loud in the room.

I didn't pull it out yet. I just unzipped, letting the pressure ease, letting the heavy head of my c**k push forward against the open fly, still trapped behind the thin barrier of my boxers.

"But you're not ready yet," I whispered, leaning down to nip at her bottom lip, tasting the salt of her tears. "You think you can just say the words and I'll give you what you want? No, little bird. Daddy decides when you get filled."

I reached inside my boxers and pulled myself out finally.

The air in the room felt cold against the red-hot skin of my shaft. I was throbbing, a dull, heavy ache that demanded release, but I held back. I held back because the control was sweeter than the c*m.

I grabbed her hand, the one I’d pinned and forced her fingers to wrap around my girth.

"Feel that," I hissed, my hips jerking involuntarily into her grip. "That's what a real man feels like, Elara. Not a boy like Cole. He doesn't have the weight. He doesn't have the veins. He doesn't have the sin."

I started to move her hand, showing her how I liked it, slow and tight, my thumb smearing the sticky precum over the head, using it as lubrication.

"You're not a stepdaughter anymore," I growled, my eyes locked on hers, dark and unforgiving. "You're a c*m-dump for a man old enough to be your father. Tell me you love it. Tell me you want Daddy's load all over these pretty fingers."

"I... I want it, Daddy," she panted, her hand squeezing me, her hips bucking up against my waist. "Please. Give it to me."

"Not yet," I taunted, pulling her hand away and slapping the wet, heavy head of my c**k against her inner thigh. "First, you're going to admit that you've been dreaming of this since you were 18. Since I watched you in that tiny bikini by the pool."

"I... I have," she sobbed, the confession breaking her. "I've always wanted you, Daddy."

"Good girl," I whispered, leaning down to kiss her again, hard and deep, swallowing her moans as I rubbed the head of my c**k against her slick, waiting entrance, still denying the penetration, keeping us both on the razor's edge of madness.

"Now, let's see how dirty Daddy's little girl really is."

With a surge of strength that left her gasping, I hooked my arm under her waist and flipped her over like she weighed nothing.

She landed on her stomach, the breath leaving her lungs in a sharp whoosh. Before she could even gasp for air, I grabbed the hem of that expensive, blood-red silk dress and hiked it up with a violent tug, bunching the fabric around her waist.

The cool air hit her exposed skin, making her shiver, but I didn't give her a second to recover.

"Arch," I commanded. "Ass up, Elara. Face in the pillow. Now."

She hesitated for a split second, looking back at me with wide, terrified eyes.

"Now!" I roared, bringing my hand down on her left ass cheek and smacked her there.

The sound cracked through the room. Her flesh jiggled, turning an instant, angry red under my palm.

"Ah! Daddy!" she cried out, but her body obeyed. She pushed her hips up, presenting herself to me, her forehead pressing into the mattress.

"That's it," I purred, leaning over her, my chest pressing into her back, pinning her down. "Look at you. Look at this hole.”

I hooked my fingers into the waistband of her panties and yanked them down to her knees.

Her ass was perfect. Round, pale, and now marked with the fading red of my hand. But it was the tight, puckered ring of muscle below that had my mouth watering.

"You want Daddy's load?" I hissed into her ear, my hot breath making her tremble. "You want me to fill you up until you're leaking?"

"Yes," she sobbed, her hips twitching, grinding back against me instinctively. "Please, Daddy. I need it.*"

"I know what you need," I snarled, my free hand reaching up to tangle in her hair, yanking her head back until her neck was like a taut bowstring. "You need to be stretched. You need to be owned. And Daddy's fingers are just the beginning."

I spat and a thick, heavy glob of saliva that landed right on her tight, resisting entrance. I was getting her ready.