After Midnight With Him

Chapter Six: Please, Daddy, Put It In

Damien Blackwood

I wasn’t the kind of man who acted on impulse. Discipline had built everything I owned—my empire, my reputation, my control. I stuck to my decisions and lived by my rules. One of the most important: I didn’t f**k women without protection. No exceptions. Ever.

Yet here I was, standing over the bed with my c**k throbbing so hard it bordered on painful. Twenty-three. The number echoed in my skull as I looked down at the woman lying beneath me—Sophia. Seventeen years between us. A gap wide enough to remind me this was reckless, but not wide enough to kill the hunger roaring through my veins. I hadn’t felt this kind of raw, primal need in years. My body was betraying every careful principle I’d built.

I placed one knee on the mattress beside her, bracing my hand near her hip without touching her yet. Clarity first. Always clarity.

“Do I have your consent?” My voice came out low, rough.

She nodded quickly, eyes glassy with want.

“Use your words,” I commanded. “Not your head.”

“Yes,” she breathed, then firmer, “Yes, you do.”

She looked like a delicate flower someone had kept locked away—soft, trembling, untouched in all the ways that mattered—while I felt like a beast barely leashed, ready to devour. This night meant nothing. I needed her to understand that.

“This is just tonight,” I told her, my gaze locked on hers. “Don’t read anything more into it. In fact, I’ll increase whatever amount my father paid you.”

Confusion flickered across her pretty face. “A deal? I don’t understand…”

Before she could spiral into questions, her desperation broke through. “Are you done? Please… just f**k me. f**k me badly.”

Her voice cracked with urgent need. It hit me like a punch to the gut. Even as she leaned up, trying to kiss me, I pulled back. “Don’t.”

“Yes, sir,” she whispered immediately.

Sir. The word slid over my skin, stirring something I hadn’t felt in a long time. Most women in my world were too calculated or too jaded to offer that kind of instinctive submission. It made my c**k twitch again beneath the towel.

I reached down and yanked her bra down in one sharp motion. Her breasts spilled free—soft, full, and perky, n*****s already tight and begging. The sight alone made my mouth water. I bent my head, capturing one rosy peak between my lips. She arched with a broken moan as I sucked, tongue swirling, teeth grazing just enough to make her gasp. My hand found the other breast, kneading, pinching, learning exactly how much pressure made her hips roll helplessly against nothing.

My free hand slid lower, hooking into the waistband of her panties. I dragged them down her thighs, revealing smooth, glistening skin. She was soaked. Dripping. The scent of her arousal hit me hard, sweet and intoxicating.

I pulled back slightly, studying her flushed face. “Have you ever been satisfied like this before? Why are you so desperate for it?”

She didn’t answer with words—just a needy whimper as her thighs tried to part wider. I let my fingers trail down her stomach, teasing the sensitive skin just above her mound. When I finally cupped her, the heat and slickness against my palm made me groan. She was swollen, her c**t pulsing under the lightest touch. I circled it slowly, deliberately, watching her eyes flutter.

“f**k, you’re drenched,” I muttered, voice thick. I parted her folds with two fingers, spreading the wetness, exploring her slowly. Every stroke drew fresh gasps from her throat. I dipped lower, teasing her entrance without pushing inside yet, coating my fingers in her arousal. She was tight—almost too tight. The thought of how she’d feel wrapped around me made my c**k leak against the towel.

I kept working her with my hand, thumb pressing firm circles on her c**t while my fingers teased and stroked. Her hips bucked, chasing the friction. I held her down with my other hand on her hip, forcing her to take what I gave at my pace. When I finally slid one thick finger inside her, her walls clenched hard around it, hot and silky.

She cried out, back bowing off the bed.

I pumped slowly, curling my finger to find that spot that made her tremble. Adding a second finger stretched her beautifully. The wet, obscene sounds of my fingers working in and out of her filled the room, mixing with her ragged breaths and soft, desperate moans. I watched her face the entire time—eyes half-closed, lips parted, cheeks flushed dark. She was losing herself, and I was only getting started.

I leaned down again, sucking her n****e hard as my fingers thrust deeper, faster. Her juices coated my hand, dripping down to the sheets. Every time I dragged my fingers across that sensitive ridge inside her, her thighs shook. I could feel her getting close already, her walls fluttering and gripping.

But she wasn’t begging for my fingers. She was begging for more.

“Please, Daddy… put it in,” she gasped, the word slipping out like it had been waiting on her tongue all along. “I need your c**k. f**k me. Please f**k me.”

I stilled for a second, the filthy plea sending a fresh surge of blood straight to my groin. She was just asking for s*x, saying I should f**k her, raw and shameless in her need. My finger slid inside her again—deeper this time—and she gasped, eyes flying open, mouth parted like I’d just given her the first taste of heaven.