Page 142 of Bucked Hard

"That's it, baby." I stroke myself once, twice. "Keep going."

"Buck, please." She's writhing on my sheets now, her own fingers not enough.

I knee-walk onto the bed, hovering over her without touching. "Please what?"

"Touch me," she begs, reaching for me.

I catch her wrist again, bring her fingers to my mouth. Taste her arousal on her skin. "Not until you say it."

She knows what I want. What I need to hear.

"Please, Papa." Those two words nearly end me right there. "I need you."

I rip that final scrap of lace from her body with one hard tug.

"Open those legs. Papa’s tired of pretending you’re off limits. No more forbidden fucking fruit."

She spreads for me immediately, all shame gone. Just pure need in those eyes as she bares herself completely.

I settle between her thighs, my broad shoulders forcing them wider. "You've been a brat," I tell her, brushing my thumb over her swollen clit, her bare little lips swollen and slick. I press down making her whimper. "Teasing me. Pushing me."

"It worked didn’t it?" she gasps as I slide my knuckles up and down through her silky paradise.

I memorize every movement and sound she makes as I stroke and press finally testing out that little hole that’s gonna own me for the rest of my life.

"It did." I add pressure, listening to her breath hitch, stretching her carefully for what’s to come, despite the animal inside me howling to take, claim, possess. I feel that virgin band making me work for it, making her hiss as I slide in and out in slow pulses. "And now you're gonna pay for it."

I curl my finger inside her, finding that spot that makes her back arch off the bed and she calls for God.

“Holy Jesus,” she moans, eyes rolling back. “Papa, that feels good.”

“It’s supposed to. You never let anyone else touch what’s mine, did you?”

She flings her head back and forth, in exuberant assurance.

"Good. Because I remember every time you sassed me. Every time you bent over in those tiny shorts. Every fucking time you looked at me with those innocent eyes while thinking filthy thoughts." Each accusation is punctuated with a thrust of my finger. "I knew. I always knew."

I add a knuckle against her clit, giving her a slow finger fuck and knuckle dance.

She’s perfect. A masterpiece. Her pale skin quivering as her hands flutter and fuss, unsure what to do knowing soon, I’ll teach her all she needs to know.

“Papa’s right here baby. You’re safe. Follow that good feeling. I want to see how beautiful you are when I make you come.” She's close, dirty little girl gushing for her Papa, trembling with her cherry opening tightening around my finger. I withdraw, ignoring her cry of protest.

“Papa, please, more.” She’s a fresh sort of hell and I’m ready to burn for eternity.

“You wanna come? You’re gonna do as you’re told.”

Chapter4

Callie

The air in Buck’s ranch house is thick with the scent of leather and sweat, his cologne mingling with the faint earthy musk that always clings to him. I can’t breathe as he holds me captive under that stare of his as he pushes to stand, leaving me wide and desperate. His hazel eyes, flecked with gold like the summer wheat fields outside, narrow at my trembling lip.

His jaw tightens, a muscle ticking in it, and suddenly I’m hyperaware of every inch of space between us as he steps back, leaving my body pulsing, so close but yet so far.

My father’s best friend, god, Buck, Papa, is standing here naked from the waist down but still wearing one of his dumb flannel shirts, taking back the orgasm he was building inside me, now with his arms crossed over that broad chest, and I’m entranced by a a cock that looks angry. Like it was sent here just to ruin me.

Let’s just say, my gelding Samson has nothing on Buck McCrae.

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