Page 57 of For Her Own Good

He grabs my wrist that’s not pinned to my side and drags it over my head, holding it down against the mattress, and that resistance I’d put up, the one I ached for him to crumble, falls to pieces in the face of him handing me exactly what I need.

“Daddy knows best.”

“That’s it. Come on, again.”

“Daddy knows best.”

He pulls out slightly, only to press back in, farther than he’d been before, and I let out an “ooh.”

“That’s right, little girl. You can take it. Make all the noise you want, but you’re going to take every inch of Daddy’s cock.”

He draws out again, then takes one of my nipples in his mouth and sucks hard. Tightens his grip on my neck and my wrist until it almost hurts and then bites my nipple hard enough to make me cry out and buck against him. And then he presses in harder and the friction is incredible. Add in his dirty words and the feeling of being pried open and so very vulnerable, and it’s almost blinding.

“Daddy knows best.”

And there it is. The entire fat length of him is seated inside me and I’m pinned like a butterfly to a specimen board, all spread out and vulnerable. Lowry stops suckling me to lift his head and meet my gaze, the intensity of his expression pinning me even more.

“There you go. I knew you could do it, knew you could fit Daddy’s cock into that tight little pussy of yours. And now I’m going to fuck you until I spill my come inside you.”

Oh, fuck. I’ve never been particularly turned on by a man shooting his load inside me in erotica or in person. But coming from Lowry today, in this moment? It’s now the only thing I can think of, everything else has been crowded out of my brain, and the only thing I can think to beg for is, “Fill me up, Daddy. Please, fill me. Put your come in me, please.”

A groan that sounds as though it’s been ripped from his lungs escapes his lips and he dips his head, resting his forehead against mine.

“Perfect, Star, You’re perfect.”

And before I can tell him that he’s perfect right back, he lifts his head and drives into me so hard I make a sound. Ngh, maybe? Unh? Whatever it is, it’s not pretty and it’s not calculated, and I want him to make me do it again. Fuck me so hard I can’tnotmake a sound. And that’s what he does.

Starts driving into me over and over and over, the rhythm and the force brutal and so, so satisfying. Makes me feel helpless and used, but also respected? He believes I can take this because I’m strong. Not only that, but even though he’s rutting into me with abandon, I know he wouldn’t leave me.

Though I accused him of it and it still smarts if I think about when I felt he had abandoned me, Lowry would never do that. He’s attuned to me; my sounds, the movements of my body, my very breath. Despite seeming as though he’s lost in his own desires, his own pleasures, I have no doubt that I am first in his mind. Which is made all the clearer when he grits out, “Come on, little girl. Come for Daddy. I know you’re close. Come for me now while I’ve got my cock buried in you. I want to feel your cunt tighten around me, and then I’ll give you what you want.”

Oh. Yes. He’s deep inside me, grazing my G-spot with every thrust, and as he’s promised, he’s fucking me so hard my breasts are bouncing on my chest and it’s just the right side of degrading. I tip my hips to take him a fraction of an inch deeper and that’s when it hits me.

“Lowry, yes. God, yes. I’m coming. Lowry, god.”

It’s like one of those massive explosions where the shockwave hits you before the sound, before you see the target shatter and spread into a billion tiny little pieces. And no matter what, no matter how hard you try, no matter how long you spend, no matter what kind of space-age adhesive you might have at your disposal, it’s never going to be the same again. Rocked. Shattered. Wrecked. That’s how I feel as this climax rips through me, and I know I am forever changed.

Chapter 19

Lowry

Starla’s musclespulse around me like a tightly squeezed fist, and I come so hard I think I might pass out. Seriously. Is it possible to shoot one’s load with such force that it breaks a condom? It’s a ridiculous thought, though I really feel I ought to check, because God. My God.

My vision’s gone spotty, there’s a low tone in my ears, and the universe seems to be spinning around me. Wouldn’t surprise me if that sex changed the gravitational pull of the earth. Hell. I thought I’d had good sex. With Maeve, the sex had been good. Yes, it had been, and I shouldn’t take away from that, shouldn’t downgrade that experience because it had been pleasurable, satisfying. It’s just that sex with Starla is something I hadn’t even conceived of as being possible.

Gasping like I’ve run a marathon, I try to catch my breath. I ought to open my eyes which I’ve screwed tight shut because they probably would’ve burst out of my head otherwise. Take stock of Starla and see if she’s okay. Yes, I’m pretty sure she had a wicked orgasm, but that’s one thing. A great thing, but only one. That was phenomenal, but also a kind of intense I wasn’t entirely expecting, and it wouldn’t surprise me if it hit her hard. How is she feeling about the things we said? The way we fucked? Did I leave bruises on her from grasping her so tightly? How is she going to feel if I did?

When I finally manage to open my eyes, a lazy grin stretching my mouth because I’m too wrecked to do anything else, it’s to Starla’s lovely, flushed face, yes, but she’s wide-eyed with overwhelm and her chin trembles.

“Starla, darling? Are you—”

And then she starts to cry.

I’ve heard the expression “bursting into tears” many times, but I don’t know I’ve seen it myself until now. It’s a violent spilling of tears that must have been welling for minutes judging by the sheer volume of them. Christ, what have I done?

“Oh, sweetheart, hush.”

Her sobs are convulsive and I want to make them stop. It’s an impulse I’ve had to fight against for as long as I can remember. The urge to fix things. Patch them up, make them better. Which is why I went to medical school, yes, but it’s all the more satisfying and frustrating to dig around in people’s heads and help them sort themselves out than it is to patch up a bullet wound. Not everyone feels that way, I know.

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