Page 54 of For Her Own Good

I do as I’m told and it’s so viscerally carnal and filthy. Not that Lowry treats me this way and not that I’d want him to, but the occasional insinuation that I’m only good for my holes and that he’s going to use every one of them as he sees fit… Well, it might feel threatening and demeaning in a not-fun way in real life, but in this situation, with him, in my head, it keeps my arousal at a simmer.

Yes, I’m Daddy’s good little girl, and I’m going to do as I’m told—and he’s told me to open my mouth wide. It’s nearly as dirty, and in some ways more so, than being told to spread my legs.

And then his fingers are in my mouth, and I automatically lick them and then suck. That’s a knee-jerk reaction to something pushed into your mouth, right? I find that I actually prefer the taste of my slick fluid to the smell. It tastes less musky, less earthy than the scent and a touch sweeter than I expected.

I’m so absorbed in trying to discern the small details of my flavor that it takes me a second to realize Lowry is staring at me. More specifically my mouth, and to be precise the way I’m laving the fingers that were inside me moments ago.

“Did you know you’re the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen? You take my breath away.”

I try to smile at his compliment but my blush will have to do the talking because he’s still got his fingers pushed inside my mouth, and is now fucking my mouth with them, slow and filthy, an echo of what he’d been doing to my sex mere moments ago.

I’d been a little skeptical that he would be able to make me come again when he fucks me, but I can feel it gathering again—that slow burn of a line of gun powder straight to my core, and Lowry is the match that will set me alight.

Lowry pulls his fingers from my mouth and I chase them. It was nice to have something in my mouth and I didn’t mind that they were covered in my essence. But he replaces them with his mouth, so I’m not too distraught.

He fucks my mouth with his tongue, an echo of how he was using his fingers, and it makes me feel empty. Not in a depressed, desolate kind of way, but in a “fill me up, Daddy,” kind of way. I want that motion, that plundering, between my legs again. And I wouldn’t be sorry if he could keep kissing me like this when he settles his hips between my thighs and presses his cock where his fingers used to be.

Fill me up, Daddy.

Chapter 18

Lowry

There are approximatelyten hours until I need to be back at work tomorrow morning, and frankly, that is not enough time. I need more. It seems cruel that I’m only now getting to have my wicked way with Starla, and I’ll have to stop before I really get to know her body. I’d like to call in sick tomorrow and keep her in bed through the weekend, but Lacey’s been looking at me as though she knows what’s going on, so I won’t be taking any chances.

I hadn’t been prepared for Starla despite my fantasies. All the dirty talking I’ve done to Starla in my dreams is certainly coming in handy and I’ve been trying not to hesitate before I say the words aloud though they make my skin burn hot. Yes, I’d sometimes say dirty things to Maeve, but not like this. No, never like this. Aside from the filthy things falling out of my mouth like I’ve rehearsed them, I hadn’t been prepared for her body, all her sweet flesh that’s now mine to feast upon. For planes of smooth skin, for how soft she is, for the stark delicacy of the scars across her pale skin which I haven’t remarked upon. Won’t. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t look. I have, many times.

I’ll treat her as fragile not because she is, but because life has already tried to shatter her on the floor one too many times, and wouldn’t it be nice if someone cradled her for once? Plus, I fucking love having my hands on her, in her. I could touch her all day and not be satisfied. And hearing the way she calls medaddyis like shooting up with heroin. Or so I’ve heard, wouldn’t know for sure; that shit scares me to death. So I’ll indulge in another vice: Starla Patrick.

So sweet she ought to be able to give me a toothache by looking at her, this Starla before me is so different from the snarky, snappy, aggressive woman I encountered on the plane a handful of months ago. She’s pliant and shy,vulnerable, and while I wouldn’t trade the other Starla for anything, I like her very much like this as well.

She’s let down her walls for me, literally let me inside her body, and it’s enough to make a man get a swelled head. She trusts me enough to see her like this, to share her fantasies, and my God, what a fantasy it is. There’s a sharp edge to it given our history, but that’s part of what makes this fun—the risk, the taboo, the wrongness. It’s like gliding a razor along your skin—one false step and it’s not fun anymore. But this is a heart-pounding thrill and probably the most turned on I’ve ever been.

Kissing Starla and tasting her wetness in her mouth makes it so tempting to go down on her, drink directly from the source, have my face covered in her arousal, but I think not this time. Some other time when I have the patience to toy with her more and my cock isn’t going to burst.

I run my hands over her body while we kiss, kneading a breast, pinching a nipple, grabbing her buttocks, and making a fist in her hair that has her whimpering into my mouth and pressing—no, more like rocking, undulating against me. I’d thought she’d need more time given how spent she’d seemed when she came, but I’m delighted to be wrong.

Unfortunately I have to stop kissing her, but fortunately, she pouts when I do and makes a tiny mewl when she realizes she can’t chase after me because I’m pinning her to the bed with the hand I have in her hair.

“How are you feeling, little girl?”

Calling her that makes my cock throb. I thought it would be harder, but it’s not. It’s easy. Calling herlittle girland saying filthy things to her comes so naturally to me it’s almost terrifying. All of it awakens a primitive part of me I wish it didn’t because I like to think of myself as a progressive feminist. Can I still if I want to infantilize the woman I love? What if she enjoys it? What if she wants it? And can I keep myself from adopting that attitude elsewhere? I think so, but I want to care for her all the time. And because I like the shy, blushing smile that steals over her face when I call her my little girl. God, she’s precious.

“Good, Daddy.”

“Not too sore, I hope? After Daddy stuffed three fingers in that pretty little pussy of yours?”

She makes a tiny peep and flushes a darker shade of pink as she shakes her head.

“Do you need a little while or are you ready for more?”

“More?”

Her eyes and mouth widen into perfect circles, and the doe eyes and the lash-batting almost do me in.

“Yes, more.”

“I don’t know if it will fit. It’s too big.”

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