All For… Daddy

My Breaking Point…

Kristi.

“Yes,” I whispered, the word slipping out.

My voice was barely audible, thick with shame.

Despite that something far darker and hungry bloomed in my core.

Troy’s low, rumbling chuckle filled the space between us like smoke.

He didn’t believe me for a second. “That’s a lie, Kristi. A pretty little lie from a pretty little liar.”

His breath was still ghosting my ear, hot and steady, sending fresh shivers racing down my spine. “You knew exactly what you were doing when you hit send on those pictures. Drunk or not, you wanted me to see you like that—your fingers buried in that pretty cunt, ass up, begging for a real man’s c**k instead of whatever boy you’ve been letting f**k you. You did it on purpose, princess. Admit it.”

I started babbling, overexplaining like a fool, my words tumbling out in a desperate rush.

“No, Troy, I swear—I was wasted, the files were right next to each other on my desktop, my hands were shaking from the shots and I just added the wrong folder and—”

He cut me off without raising his voice, just that deep, velvet command that made my p***y throb harder.

“I’ve always known you had eyes on me, Kristi. Don’t insult us both by pretending otherwise.”

His towering presence behind me felt like a wall of heat at my back.

“All those summers you’d prance around the backyard in those tiny bikini tops, n*****s hard every time I looked your way. The way you’d ‘accidentally’ brush against me in the kitchen when your dad wasn’t watching. I saw it. Every single time. You’ve wanted my c**k since you were barely legal, haven’t you? While I was still calling you my best friend’s little princess.”

My cheeks burned, but my body was a traitor.

I could feel myself getting wetter, slick heat flooding my thong, soaking through the lace and threatening to drip down my thighs.

God, the way he said it—so matter-of-fact, so filthy—made my c**t pulse like it had its own heartbeat.

I tried to defend myself again, voice cracking.

“I didn’t… I mean, I never meant for you to know. It was just a stupid crush that got out of hand. I’m not like that, Troy, I’m not—”

“No?” He stepped closer, finally brushing against me.

His chest pressed lightly to my back, solid and warm through his shirt, the hard planes of muscle making my breath hitch.

I could feel the heat of him everywhere, the faint scent of his cologne wrapping around me like a drug.

“Then why are you trembling, baby girl? If you’re so innocent, why is your whole body shaking like a leaf in the wind right now?”

He grabbed my hand and tugged it behind the chair and nudged forward just enough that I felt the thick ridge of his c**k—hard, heavy, straining against his slacks—graze the curve of my palm.

A soft, involuntary whimper escaped me. He was huge.

I could tell even through the fabric, and my mind flashed withe images of that c**k splitting me open, stretching my p***y until I cried.

“Is that nothing, Kristi?” he murmured, lips brushing the shell of my ear now, voice dropping to a gravelly whisper that vibrated straight to my core.

“You’re not feeling anything as I talk to you like this? As I press your hand and let you feel exactly what those pictures did to me this morning?” His chest dragged slowly up and down my back, deliberate and teasing, the friction making my n*****s scrape against my shirt.

“Tell me you don’t want it. Tell me your little p***y isn’t dripping right now, soaking that expensive skirt because your daddy’s best friend finally caught you.”

I quickly pulled my hand back. “No. I-I promise.”

One of his hands settled on the back of my chair, knuckles brushing my shoulder.

The contact burned. “What am I supposed to do with you now, Kristi? Tell your father his precious daughter is a filthy little slut who touches herself and sends me proof? Fire you before you even start? Or…”

He let the word hang, heavy and promising.

My mind exploded with images—him shoving my skirt up right here, fingers plunging into me while I begged.

Him unzipping, feeding me every thick inch down my throat until I gagged and cried.

Him bending me over the desk, pounding me so hard the pictures on the wall shook, growling about how he’d wanted to ruin his best friend’s daughter since the day she turned legal.

I was shaking harder, thighs clenched tight, but it only made the ache worse.

Every filthy word he breathed against my skin cranked the tension higher.

I could hear my own heartbeat in my ears, feel the slick slide of my juices as I shifted in the chair.

My mind was a whirlwind of panic and pure, raw need.

What if Dad found out?

What if Troy told him his precious daughter was a c**k-hungry slut who’d been fantasizing about getting railed by his oldest friend for years?

But the fear only made me wetter, darker, more desperate.

“I’m sorry,” I breathed, voice shaky and needy.

How was I going to tell him I’ve wanted him for so long.

Every time he came over… every time Peter f***s me.

I didn’t mean to send them, but I’m not sorry he saw it.

“Please…” I mumbled weakly. “Don’t tell Dad. I’ll do anything.”

He straightened just enough that I felt the loss of his heat, but then his hand moved—light, teasing—brushing a strand of hair off my neck.

“Anything?” The word dripped with dark promise. “Careful what you offer, baby girl. Because I’ve spent years jerking off to the thought of you too. Years imagining how sweet that forbidden p***y would taste on my tongue. How you’d scream my name while I f****d you so deep you’d feel me for days. And you’re telling me you don’t feel the same way?”

He didn’t wait for an answer.

One of his big hands slid around from behind, slow and possessive, tracing up my side until it reached the open neckline of my white shirt.

My breath caught.

I should have stopped him.

I should have pulled away.

Instead, I sat frozen, trembling, every nerve ending screaming for more.

“Still nothing?” he teased, voice dark with hunger.

His fingers dipped under the fabric, warm and calloused against my bare skin.

No bra.

I’d chosen it on purpose, and now he knew it.

He groaned softly, the sound vibrating through me. “f**k, Kristi. You came here ready for this, didn’t you?”

I gasped as his hand slipped fully inside my shirt, cupping my left breast, thumb circling the stiff peak of my n****e. Electricity shot straight to my c**t.

He pinched—hard enough to make me arch, but not enough to hurt, just enough to send a fresh gush of wetness between my legs.

“Oh God,” I breathed, the words slipping out unbidden.

He pinched again, rolling my n****e between his fingers, tugging gently like he was testing how sensitive I was.

“Look at these pretty t**s,” he murmured against my ear, lips grazing the sensitive skin just below it. “Been dreaming about them for years. So full. So f*****g responsive.”

His other hand stayed on the back of my chair, caging me in, while the one inside my shirt worked my n****e with expert precision—pinching, twisting, soothing with the flat of his palm until I was panting.

I didn’t even realize my head had fallen back against his broad shoulder until I felt the soft fabric of his shirt against my cheek.

My mouth fell open on a low, needy moan that echoed in the quiet office.

It just slipped out, raw and broken.

“Troy…”

“That’s it,” he praised, voice thick with satisfaction.

His breath was ragged now too, brushing hot against my neck as he leaned in closer.

His chest pressed fully against my back, his hand bringing my palm back to his groin and his hips rocking once, so I could feel every inch of that massive erection grinding against me.

“Moan for me, princess. Let me hear how much you’ve wanted your daddy’s best friend touching you like this. How many times have you touched this needy little body thinking about me? How many nights did you f**k that boyfriend of yours with your eyes closed, pretending it was my c**k stretching you open?”

I felt dizzy.

My mind was drowning in the dirty details crashing over me like waves.

I could picture it so clearly.

And now here he was, real and solid and dangerous, his fingers owning my n****e while his c**k teased me.

My p***y was clenching around nothing, aching to be filled, dripping so much I was sure there’d be a wet spot on the leather chair when I stood up.

“I… I’ve wanted you forever,” I confessed in a shaky whisper.

The words tumbling out between soft moans as he switched to my other breast, pinching that n****e even harder.

The pleasure bordered on pain, sharp and sweet, making my hips twitch involuntarily.

“Even when Peter’s inside me, I close my eyes and think about you. About you bending me over, f*****g me raw, calling me your dirty little slut while my dad’s in the next room. I’m sorry, but I can’t stop. I don’t want to stop.”

Troy’s groan was pure hunger, low and guttural.

His hand squeezed my breast possessively, thumb flicking my n****e in tight, maddening circles.

“Good girl. Finally telling the truth.” He nipped at my earlobe, teeth grazing just enough to make me whimper again.

“You’re soaked for me, aren’t you? I can smell it. That sweet, desperate p***y dripping all over my chair because I’m finally touching what’s been mine for years.”

The tension was unbearable now, wrapping around us like a live wire.

His voice, his hands, the slow grind of his body against mine.

It was everything I’d imagined and more.

I was trembling on the edge, not even touched between my legs yet, and already close to coming just from his filthy words and the relentless teasing of my aching n*****s.

I didn’t know how much longer I could take it without begging him to bend me over the desk and f**k me senseless.

God.

Fuck Me Already. I wanted to scream thr badly.