Daddy's Girl: Raised To Please Him

Chapter 14

Alan didn't speak right away. His hands moved over her body, caressing, claiming. His lips were on her neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. His touch was slow, and deliberate, making every inch of her skin burn under his hand. She shivered beneath him, a tremor of anticipation running through her.

Finally, his voice broke through the haze of desire, low and rough. "You're perfect, you know that?" His words were a command, a statement of fact that sent heat flooding through her. "Every inch of you... God, I've wanted this. Wanted you... so badly." His lips hovered just above hers, his breath warm against her skin. "But I'll take my time with you. Let you feel everything I've been holding back."

Sydney's chest tightened, her heart thundering in her ears. His words-those heavy, loaded words-had the power to undo her completely. She felt herself melting, her body aching for more. She didn't know how to answer. How could she, when her breath was caught in her throat, her body was trembling beneath him, and the heat between them was almost unbearable?

Alan's eyes were dark with hunger, but there was something else there too-control. He was in charge, and she was helpless to resist.

"You want this, don't you?" he murmured, brushing his lips across her cheek, his voice smooth, almost teasing. "Want me just as much as I want you?"

Her face burned with a mixture of shame and desire, but she didn't look away. She nodded her voice barely a whisper. "Yes."

The smirk that curled at his lips made her pulse race. "Good girl," he said, his tone thick with satisfaction. "My turn, let me show you just how much I've wanted you."

His lips crashed down on hers, more urgent this time, as if he couldn't wait any longer. His hands roamed, possessive and greedy, pulling at her clothes with the same impatience. When they were both naked, his eyes darkened even more, and his gaze ran over her like he was memorizing every curve.

"Beautiful," he whispered, the word thick with desire. "You're mine tonight, all mine." His voice lowered to a rasp as his fingers brushed her skin. "And I'm going to enjoy every second of it."

She gasped as he leaned down, kissing her again, his hands framing her face as though she was the only thing that mattered. His kiss was deep and hungry, and she met him with the same intensity, her body arching against his.

She wanted him. She needed him.

As his lips trailed lower, his voice reached her ears again, low and demanding. "Don't hide from me, Sydney. Let me see every part of you. Let me have you... completely."

Her heart pounded. Her whole body was alive with need, her mind swirling with the thought of giving in to him entirely. She couldn't stop herself. She let go, letting him take control, her fingers digging into his skin as he kissed, touched, and claimed her in ways she never thought she'd allow.

He pressed his weight down, the heat of their bodies a suffocating blanket. Sydney couldn't bear it any longer, she needed a raw, burning ache between her legs. "Please," she whispered, the word ragged, desperate. "Touch me... I need you inside me."

His voice, a low rumble, sent shivers down her spine. "As you wish." He didn't need words. One finger, then two, found their way inside her, probing, teasing. Each stroke ignited a fire within her, a moan escaping her lips as he pushed deeper, stretching her to her limits. The pleasure was exquisite agony, a delicious torment that left her gasping for more.

"Faster, Alan," she pleaded her voice barely a breath.

He obeyed, his movements growing faster, harder, more brutal. Her body arched, convulsing with pleasure as she reached a shattering climax, her legs trembling, her muscles clenching around his fingers. He continued, his fingers relentless, his other hand now roughly kneading her breasts, the sensations merging into a maelstrom of pure, unadulterated ecstasy. The intensity was overwhelming, leaving her breathless and spent.

The aftershocks of pleasure rippled through her, leaving her weak and boneless. He remained inside her, his fingers still moving, slow teasing strokes that kept the embers of desire glowing. He kissed her, a deep, possessive kiss that tasted of sweat and passion. His breath hitched as he felt her pulse quicken beneath him.

He withdrew his fingers, leaving a trail of dampness and lingering heat. He watched her, her eyes half-closed, her breath coming in ragged gasps. The vulnerability in her expression ignited a new wave of desire within him. He leaned down, his lips finding the sensitive skin of her neck, trailing kisses down her collarbone. His touch was gentle now, a stark contrast to the intensity of moments before, yet no less potent.

He moved slowly, deliberately, savoring the feel of her skin beneath his hands. He traced the curve of her hip, the delicate arch of her back, his fingers lingering on the tender flesh of her inner thigh. He felt her tremble beneath him, a silent plea for more. And he gave it to her, slowly, deliberately, building the tension anew, until the next wave of pleasure crashed over them, binding them together in a shared ecstasy. This time, it was quieter, more intimate, a lingering warmth that spread through them both, leaving them entwined, breathless, and utterly satisfied.

"We're just starting, honey," he murmured, the words igniting a fresh fire within her despite the lingering warmth of her recent climax.

"Lean against the headboard," he instructed, his gaze intense, "spread your legs...wide."

She obeyed, her body trembling slightly as she positioned herself, the vulnerability both terrifying and exhilarating. "Touch yourself," he commanded, his eyes burning into her, fixated on her intimate parts. "Do exactly as I say."

"O-okay," she stammered, a nervous gulp catching in her throat.

"Put your finger inside," he directed, his voice low and husky. "Penetrate yourself."

She followed his instructions, the act feeling strangely empowering, the thrill amplified by his unwavering attention. "Massage your breasts with your left hand," he added.

She obeyed, cupping and kneading her breasts, the sensations intensifying with each stroke. A moan escaped her lips, a sound both of pleasure and surprise as she discovered new depths of sensation. She bit her lip, her body arching as she explored herself with a newfound intensity.

Alan watched from his sofa, the sight of her self-pleasure driving him wild. He gripped himself, a groan escaping his lips. "Think of me," he urged, his voice thick with desire.

"Oh God, Alan! Ahh! It feels so good...fuck! You're so good..." she cried out, her voice a mixture of breathless pleasure and raw need.

"Scream my name!" he demanded, his own pleasure building to a fever pitch. He stroked himself relentlessly, his eyes never leaving her.

"Alan! Daddy!" she moaned, her fingers moving faster, deeper within herself. "I'm cumming! Faster! Please! Oh...fuck!"

He was close, too, the edge of his own release tantalizingly near. He accelerated his rhythm, watching her every move.

"I'm coming," he gasped, rising to his feet. He approached her, his climax imminent. He aimed himself, and as he ejaculated, his semen splashed across her belly. She lay panting, her body limp, her senses reeling from the intensity of the experience. The unexpected pleasure of being watched, of fulfilling his desires, had surpassed anything she'd imagined. It was a revelation, a new understanding of her own body and its capacity for pleasure.

Alan suddenly pulled her leg, causing her to fall onto the bed. "We are not done yet," he climbed on top of her.

He leaned over her, his breath warm against her ear. He didn't touch her, not yet. Instead, he trailed a finger along her jawline, his touch feather-light, teasingly close to her lips but never quite making contact. A slow, deliberate smile played on his lips, a smile that promised pleasure but also hinted at a prolonged torment.

He whispered in her ear, his voice a low, seductive murmur, "You want this, don't you?" He paused, letting the question hang in the air, a silent challenge. He watched her reaction, the subtle flush creeping up her neck, the way her breath hitched in her chest. He knew he had her.

He moved his finger lower, tracing the delicate curve of her collarbone, then down her chest, his touch barely grazing her skin. Each movement was agonizingly slow, each pauses a deliberate act of torture. He felt her body tense beneath him, her muscles quivering with anticipation.

He stopped just above her breast, his finger hovering over the sensitive n****e. He could see the beads of sweat forming on her forehead, the way her eyes fluttered closed in a mixture of pleasure and frustration. He knew he was pushing her to the brink, but he held back, prolonging the agony.

With a sigh that was almost a groan, he finally brushed his fingertip against her n****e, a fleeting touch that sent a jolt of electricity through her body. He quickly withdrew his hand, leaving her breathless and wanting more. He leaned back, his eyes filled with amusement and a hint of something darker, something more primal. "Patience, my love," he whispered, "the best things are worth waiting for." The teasing was far from over.

"Please I want more," she murmured.

"As you please," he said huskily, his breath warm against her ear. "Are you sure you are ready for this?" he whispered, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down her spine. He didn't wait for an answer, his lips finding the sensitive skin of her neck, eliciting a soft moan.

"Mmm," she responded, her voice barely audible, a mixture of anticipation and apprehension. He trailed kisses down her collarbone, his touch feather-light, teasingly close to her breasts but never quite making contact. He knew this wasn't her first time; the subtle way her body responded, the confident way she met his gaze, spoke volumes.

"Tell me you want this," he murmured, his lips brushing against her n****e, eliciting a sharp intake of breath. The familiarity of the sensation, the way she instinctively arched into his touch, confirmed his suspicion.

"I... I do," she whispered, her words laced with a mixture of desire and surrender. He smiled, a slow, knowing smile that sent a thrill through her. He appreciated her experience, the unspoken understanding that passed between them.

He moved lower, his lips finding the sensitive skin between her legs. "So much to explore," he murmured, his fingers tracing the curve of her hip. He felt her muscles tense beneath him, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps. The way she instinctively opened to him, the subtle shift in her posture, all spoke of past encounters.

"Oh God," she breathed, her body arching involuntarily. He continued his exploration, his touch both gentle and insistent, building the tension to an unbearable level. He adjusted his pace, his rhythm guided by her subtle cues, a silent conversation of shared experience.

"Tell me how it feels," he whispered, his lips finding her c******s. He felt her body convulse beneath him, her moans growing louder, more desperate. He knew her body, her responses, intuitively.

"It... it feels incredible," she gasped, her voice trembling. He smiled, his eyes filled with a mixture of desire and triumph. He increased the pressure, his movements growing faster, and harder. The words, the touch, the shared vulnerability - it all combined to create a level of intimacy that transcended the physical act itself, deepened by the unspoken knowledge of their shared pasts.

He held her captive beneath him, his weight a comforting pressure, his gaze unwavering. "Tell me what you need," he commanded, his voice a low, seductive purr. He didn't touch her yet, prolonging the anticipation, savoring her rising tension.

She gasped, her breath catching in her throat. "I... I need you," she whispered, the words barely audible.

He smirked, a hint of dominance in his eyes. "Good girl," he murmured, his finger tracing a slow path down her inner thigh. He paused just before her most sensitive point, the delay a deliberate act of torture.

"Please..." she pleaded, her voice trembling.

He pressed his finger against her c******s, a light touch that sent a jolt of pleasure through her body. He circled it slowly, deliberately, building the intensity gradually. "More," he demanded, his voice hardening slightly. "Tell me what you want."

She whimpered, her body arching against his hand. "Harder... faster..." she begged.

He obeyed, his touch growing more insistent, more demanding. He moved his fingers, exploring every inch of her, his rhythm a hypnotic dance that pushed her to the brink of ecstasy. He held her there, suspended between pleasure and pain, the exquisite torment driving her wild.

"Yes," he murmured, his voice a guttural sound of satisfaction as he felt her body convulse beneath him. He continued, his touch relentless, his control absolute. He brought her to the edge again and again, each climax more intense than the last, each surrender a testament to his mastery of her pleasure. He was the conductor of her ecstasy, the architect of her desire, and she was his willing subject, completely at his mercy, completely and utterly satisfied.

He finally withdrew, leaving her breathless and trembling, a lingering warmth spreading through her body. He watched her, his expression a mixture of satisfaction and tenderness. He leaned down, kissing her forehead gently. "All yours now," he whispered, granting her a moment of reprieve.

She lay there, her body still humming with the residual energy of her climaxes, her senses reeling from the intensity of his touch. She reached out, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw, her touch hesitant, yet intimate.

He leaned into her touch, his eyes meeting hers. "Tell me what you want," he murmured, his voice softer now, more tender. The dominance hadn't vanished entirely, but it was tempered with a newfound gentleness, a recognition of her own agency within their shared pleasure.

She hesitated for a moment, gathering her thoughts, her desires still swirling within her. "I... want you in me."

He leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. "Greedy, I like it," he stated, his voice a low, resonant hum that vibrated against her skin. The dominance was palpable, yet laced with a tenderness that only heightened the anticipation. He didn't touch her, not yet. The delay was deliberate, a slow burn designed to ignite her desire to an unbearable pitch.

She swallowed, her throat dry, her eyes locked on his. "Yes," she breathed, the single word a confession, a surrender.

He traced the line of her jaw with a fingertip, the lightest of touches that sent shivers down her spine. He moved slowly, deliberately, his touch feather-light against her skin, a tantalizing tease that promised far more than it delivered. He paused at her collarbone, his fingertip lingering, teasing the sensitive skin before moving lower, ever so slowly, towards the valley between her breasts.

The anticipation was agonizing. Each second stretched into an eternity, each movement a calculated torment. He circled one n****e, a slow, deliberate caress that drew a gasp from her lips. He paused, his fingertip hovering just above her breast, the pressure building, the tension almost unbearable.

He positioned himself above her, his weight settling upon her, a comforting pressure that spoke of both dominance and intimacy. He kissed her, a deep, lingering kiss that tasted of passion and surrender. His hands explored her body, his touch both tender and assertive, a mixture of gentleness and control that perfectly mirrored the power dynamic between them. He lowered himself slowly, deliberately, the tip of his p***s brushing against her entrance, a tantalizing tease that sent a shiver of anticipation through her.

He paused, his gaze locked on hers, savoring her reaction, the subtle tightening of her muscles, the barely perceptible gasp that escaped her lips. He could feel her readiness, her eagerness, her tight embrace, even though this wasn't her first time. The anticipation was almost unbearable, a slow burn that intensified with each passing second.

He moved again, inching forward, the friction building, the pressure mounting. Her breath hitched, a soft moan escaping her lips as he finally broke the seal, entering her slowly, deliberately. The tightness was exquisite, a welcome resistance that only fueled his desire. He paused, allowing her body to adjust, to accommodate him, his movements measured and controlled.

He moved again, his rhythm slow and steady at first, a deliberate exploration of her interior, a shared journey of pleasure. He felt her muscles clench around him, her embrace both welcoming and restrictive, a testament to her arousal. He could feel her pulse quickening, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps. He kissed her neck, his lips trailing down her collarbone, his touch both tender and demanding.

He increased the pace, his movements growing stronger, more insistent. Her moans grew louder, morphing into desperate cries of pleasure. Each thrust elicited a guttural groan, a primal sound born of pure, unadulterated ecstasy. "Oh God," she screamed, her voice raw with pleasure, her body arching against him, her fingers digging into his back.

The intensity of her response fueled his own, pushing him closer to the edge. He held her close, his body molding against hers, their breaths mingling as the rhythm intensified, building to a crescendo of shared pleasure.

He increased the pace, his movements growing stronger, more insistent.

"Faster," she moaned, her voice rising in pitch, "harder..." Her cries became more desperate, more intense.

"Oh f**k, yes," she screamed, her body arching against him, her fingers digging into his back.

"f**k! oh! f**k! uh! god..." she repeated, her moans a continuous stream of pure, unadulterated pleasure.

"f**k, you're so tight," he groaned, his own pleasure building with each thrust.

He thrust harder, faster, his rhythm a relentless pounding that matched the frantic beat of her heart. Her moans escalated into screams, a raw, primal sound that filled the room. "Faster!" she cried out, her voice ragged, desperate.

Her body arched against him, her nails digging into his back, leaving crescent-shaped marks that would later serve as a testament to the intensity of their encounter. He obeyed, his movements a blur of motion, his focus unwavering.

He could feel her muscles clenching around him, her embrace both welcoming and constricting, a testament to her overwhelming pleasure. "Oh f**k!."

He felt the tightening, the pulsing, the way her body convulsed around him, a symphony of sensation that mirrored his own building arousal.

He could feel his own climax approaching, a wave of intense pleasure building within him, threatening to overwhelm him.

He continued, his movements relentless, he felt the edge of his own release approaching, he pushed himself to the limit, his movements becoming more frantic, more desperate. "f**k I'm cumming!."

Her screams grew louder, more desperate, her body trembling with the force of her pleasure. "Ohh! Alan... Daddy, please! Let it out inside me, it's my safe day."

He held back, prolonging the exquisite agony, savoring the feeling of her body writhing beneath him, her pleasure intertwined with his own. "As you please darling," a simultaneous explosion of sensation, they both reached a shattering climax, a shared release of pure, unadulterated ecstasy that left them both breathless and spent, their bodies trembling in the aftermath of their shared passion.

The intensity was overwhelming, a maelstrom of sensation that transcended the purely physical, leaving them both deeply satisfied and profoundly connected. The lingering afterglow was a testament to the intensity of their encounter, a shared silence filled with the echoes of her screams and the lingering warmth of their bodies.

He lay beside her, his body still warm from their shared passion, his breath mingling with hers. The sheets were tangled around their legs, a testament to the intensity of their recent encounter. He gently pulled her close, his arms wrapping around her, holding her against him. The silence was comfortable, filled with the lingering warmth of their bodies and the echoes of their shared pleasure.

He stroked her hair, his touch gentle and reassuring, his fingers weaving through the silken strands. "You feel so familiar," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, his words barely audible above the rapid thumping of their hearts.

"Everything about you... it's like I've known you forever. Was this... your first time?" The question hung in the air, a delicate balance of curiosity and respect, a recognition of the unspoken intimacy that had unfolded between them.

Her throat felt tight as memories long buried began to surface, unbidden and unwelcome. She hesitated, the weight of his gaze pressing down on her, before she finally whispered, "No."

Alan said nothing, but she felt his body stiffen beside hers, the arm around her waist tightening just enough to let her know he wasn't going to let this go. The silence between them stretched, fragile and heavy, until she couldn't bear it anymore.

"It happened years ago," she said, her voice barely audible. "I was in New York. It was... an accident." She felt him shift beside her, the intensity of his gaze almost too much to bear, but she pressed on. "I was drunk. Depressed. I'd just-" Her voice cracked, and she swallowed hard, forcing the words out. "I'd just wanted to feel free for once, to forget everything weighing me down. And it happened. A one-night stand in some hotel. I can barely remember his face. I... I don't even know his name."

Her voice faltered, and she braced herself for his reaction. But when he finally spoke, his tone was measured, laced with something she couldn't quite place. "New York," he said, his voice quieter now. "A hotel."

She nodded, her cheeks flushing with shame. "It was stupid. Reckless. I've tried to forget it ever since."

Alan's fingers stilled against her skin, his breath hitching. "What hotel?" he asked, his voice so low she almost didn't hear him.

Sydney frowned, her brow furrowing as she searched her memory. "I think it was the Astoria... on Fifth Avenue," she said hesitantly. "Why?"

The silence that followed was deafening, and when she finally dared to look at him, his expression was unreadable, a storm brewing in his eyes. "That night," he said slowly, his voice tight with restraint. "You wore a black dress. Your hair was pinned up, but pieces of it kept falling loose."

Her breath caught. "How do you...?"

"I remember," he said, his voice rough now like he was forcing the words out. "I remember you walking into the bar, sitting alone with a glass of wine you barely touched. I thought you were the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen." His fingers brushed her cheek, his touch reverent, almost hesitant. "That was you. I was there."

Her heart stopped, the air sucked from her lungs as his words sank in. "No," she whispered, shaking her head. "It can't be."

"It was," he said, his gaze locking onto hers, unwavering. "It was you, Sydney. I know now... I never forget your scent."

The weight of his words crashed over her, the world tilting on its axis. Memories she'd long buried came rushing back-his voice, his touch, the way he'd looked at her that night as though she was the only person in the world. The realization stole her breath, her body trembling as she tried to process the impossible truth.

"That's why you feel familiar," Alan murmured, his hand cupping her face, his thumb tracing the curve of her cheek. "That's why I've been drawn to you from the moment I saw you. It was always you."

Sydney couldn't speak, couldn't think. Her mind was a whirlwind of emotions-shock, disbelief, longing-all crashing together in a chaotic symphony. She stared at him, her chest heaving, her lips trembling as she tried to find the words. But there were none. Nothing she could say would ever be enough.

Alan didn't wait for her to respond. He leaned in, his lips brushing hers in a kiss that was both familiar and new, a slow-burning flame that reignited everything they'd once shared. It was tender and fierce, a collision of past and present that left them both breathless.

When they finally broke apart, their foreheads pressed together, Alan's voice was a rough whisper against her lips. "It was fate," he said simply. "And I'm not letting you go this time... I will never forget about what happened tonight... every moment, I never will."

He had found her again, years later, their destinies intertwined by a night of passion neither of them could fully remember, yet a night that had indelibly shaped their lives and now, unexpectedly, brought them together again.

The shared silence that followed was filled with a profound sense of understanding, a recognition of fate, and the unspoken promise of a future built on the foundation of a past they were only now beginning to understand.

The lingering warmth of their bodies, the tangled sheets, the shared breaths - it was all a testament to the depth of their connection, a connection forged in the darkness of the past, now illuminated by the light of their rediscovered love.