Page 20 of Daddy's Girl

She nods, eyes locked on mine, trust written all over her face. Trust I haven't earned. Trust I'll spend the rest of my life trying to deserve.

“Please, Daddy. Show me I’m your good girl.”

I press my hands over her soft breasts and she squirms against them. I tweak her nipples, twisting them a little, enjoying the little mewl of need it draws from her throat as I line up my dick at that tight little virgin cunt.

Hart's face flashes in my mind again—that moment he clasped my shoulder, eyes serious. "Take care of my little girl, Jack." Not "play with her tits" or "fuck her until her cherry blood covers your dick."

A knife of guilt twists in my gut, but it's not sharp enough to make me stop. Not when she's looking at me like I'm everything she's ever wanted.

The air clings, thick with the scent of vanilla and her sweat—sweeter than orchids, hotter than my pulse. Her skin glows under my palms, damp and trembling like warm silk stretched over marble. I graze a thumb along her collarbone, tracing the hollow where her heartbeat thrums against me.

Mine.

The word sticks to my tongue, sharper now she's beneath me, legs splayed open, hips tilting—a sacrifice on this bed of tangled sheets. I strip like I’m on a fucking timer, her eyes wide when she sees what’s coming for her.

“Did it get bigger since we were in the workshop?” Fear shakes her words as I look down at myself and shrug.

“I think so. I think you grew Daddy’s dick three sizes because he loves you so much.”

The teasing words hang there for a moment before she smiles but squints one eye. “I sort of thought you were like the size of a bull, but really, you’re more like Bigfoot. If Bigfoot was a hot daddy, he’d be you. You have Bigfoot balls.” She giggles and the fact that she can have fun with me now, like this sends me into a near frenzy.

“You’re miracle you know that?” I move back into position, her legs welcoming me as her smile fades into practical fear. “You’re okay baby. I’m sorry I have to hurt you.”

I press forward, slow as a knife sliding into honey. Her heat spills over the head of my dick, but her pussy is so tight I get stuck before I can even get inside, Even slick with want, it’s like trying to thrust into solid oak, and I hiss through clenched teeth.

"Christ, you're tight." Her thighs quiver against my ribs; her breath hitches. I flex against her, testing the give of her body, and she arches, nails raking my chest like claws. The sound she makes—a wet, desperate moan—is liquid fire in my veins. "Open up for me, baby girl," I growl, gripping her hip to hold her still as I split her cunt. She clenches around me, hot and greedy, like she's memorizing every inch of my head as it inches inside. “Be Daddy’s brave little girl.”

I lean forward, trying to find more leverage as I hammer my dick against her entrance, dragging kisses down her throat as she squirms, legs squeezing my waist.

"Harder, Daddy," she gasps, back bowing like a bridge over boiling water. Her nails dig red half-moons into my shoulders, but I don't flinch. "No—wait," I snap, pinning her wrists above her head suddenly, fingers bruising tight. She whimpers at the restriction.

"You want it harder, baby? You want it like this?" I thrust harder, my head finally popping past the restriction, and she gasps a little squeal into my ear as I drive home my advantage, ignoring the wail as my shaft sinks deeper.

"Am I… your good girl, Daddy?" Her voice cracks between hissing breaths as I slam into her, driving deep enough to make her toes curl. The room hums with grunts and panting—a symphony of sweat-soaked linen and salt-kissed skin.

"You’re my best girl," I huff, my own breath ragged as I piston into her now. The bed creaks under us like it's begging for mercy.

Her legs hitch higher, calves trembling against my back. I twist her hips to meet me harder.

"Christ, stop moving," I bark, but she grins, sweat-damp hair plastered to her face as I hit that spot inside her—the one that makes her eyes roll back like I've lit a match in her bones.

Jesus, this girl. She’s got me wrapped around her finger with every little smile.

"You're my good girl." I bite the pulse at her throat, hard enough for her to flinch.

She whimpers, "Good girl… Daddy’s good girl…" The words are half-plea, half magic spell, and I laugh—a raw, feral sound—as my climax tightens low in my belly. Her walls flutter around me, molten and hungry, pulling every last drop of control from me until I'm shuddering against her.

"Jesus, baby," I groan, feeling her tight around me as I move back and forth, back and forth. "You're so fucking small."

She sobs my name, clutching at my back like she's afraid I'll disappear, her nails digging half-moons into my skin.

But I don't disappear.

I anchor.

I move slow and reverent, telling her she's mine, that she's home, that no one will ever love her like this. She calls me Daddy, and I nearly lose it, the word breaking something open inside me that I didn't know existed.

My hands know puzzles. Know how to make the colors line up on that fucking cube in twenty-eight seconds flat—twisting, turning, muscle memory taking over while my brain races three steps ahead. That same instinct kicks in now. Each sound she makes, each tremble of her body under mine is a clue. A twist of the puzzle. Her nails digging into my shoulders. The catch in her breath when I hit deep. The way her eyes flutter closed when I rock just so. I'm cracking her code, finding the exact sequence that makes her fall apart.

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