Page 19 of Forgive Me, Father

He takes his time as he massages my inner thighs, his touch both teasing and soothing. He spreads my pussy lips apart, and I can feel his gaze on me as he slowly, slowly rubs his fingers over me. I moan, my hands gripping the pillow as I try to spread my legs even wider. He slides his fingers up and down my slit, circling close to my clit, but not touching it, leaving me aching and waiting. It’s torture. It’s bliss. It’s heaven and hell at the same time.

“You have the most beautiful pussy, angel,” he says softly, his slick fingers still teasing. “So pink and lovely. It deserves to be worshipped.” I gasp and moan as he finally touches my clit, circling with the perfect amount of pressure. “This pretty little bud, so sensitive, so eager for Daddy’s fingers.” He rubs it gently, sending shockwaves of pleasure through me. I moan loudly, my hips jerking involuntarily.

“And these lips,” he says, his voice rough around the edges. His fingers slide over the outer lips of my pussy, massaging gently. “So soft, so puffy. Just begging to be kissed, to be sucked.” He works them between his slippery fingers, spreading me even more. I’m completely on display for him, and it’s making me drip, making my clit throb, making heat swirl low in my belly. He slides his fingers over me, spreading my wetness around.

“You’re so wet, angel,” he rasps. “Your pussy is weeping for me. Even now, when you’re sore and used up, you’re ready to be filled. Ready to be fucked. Ready for whatever Daddy wants, because you’re such a good fucking girl.”

“Gabe,” I gasp out, chasing his fingers with my pussy. He gently circles my sore, abused entrance. I moan again, trying to hump his hand.

“But I know you’re sore, and I never want to hurt you. My sweet baby girl is sore from getting fucked, from taking Daddy’s cock not once, but twice.” He massages around my entrance but doesn’t dip his fingers inside. “Daddy’s going to take such good care of you. I’m going to make you feel so good.”

I whimper, hips moving restlessly. “Daddy,” I moan, and he groans in response.

“I shouldn’t love that so fucking much,” he says roughly. “But I do. I really, really do.” He circles my clit again, and the pillow muffles my moan. “Because I’m the one who’s meant to take care of you. You’re mine. Mine to love. Mine to fuck. Mine, in every single way.” He plays with my clit, stroking it. “Such a hard, swollen little clit. Feels so good when I rub it like this, doesn’t it?” he asks, taking my clit between his thumb and index finger and stroking it, up and down.

“Gabe,” I moan, my voice sounding ragged and foreign. I’m lifting my hips off the bed now, chasing his touch. His fingers slide over me, rubbing my clit, my lips, around my sore, usedhole. I’m so swollen and sensitive that it almost hurts, but it’s a sweet kind of pain. It makes me want more. Every touch sends tingling electricity shooting through me.

“Does that feel good, baby?” he asks. I can feel his hard cock brushing against my thigh. I can feel him dripping onto me.

“Yes,” I breathe, my hands fisting the pillow so tightly I might rip it. He circles my entrance with the tips of his fingers, spreading the dripping wetness he finds there. He returns to my clit, rubbing and circling, working me into a frenzy.

“You’re soaking my hand, angel,” he groans. “Your used little hole is so wet.” He carefully pushes one finger inside me, then slowly pulls back out, swirling my juices over my clit.

I moan loudly into the pillow, my muscles tight and burning as my orgasm rushes at me. I’m so close to the edge. I’m hanging on by my fingertips. I can feel my heartbeat in my clit. “Please, Daddy,” I beg in a shaky voice.

“Please, what?”

“Please, make me come. I need to come.”

Nine

Olivia

“Such a good fucking girl,” Gabe growls, his fingers moving with faster, firmer strokes over my throbbing clit. “Come for Daddy, angel. Come all over my fingers like a good girl.”

My orgasm slams into me, stealing my breath as my body shakes and bucks with wave after wave of pleasure. I scream, my face pressed into the pillow, my hips fully in the air. He draws out my orgasm, stroking my clit with slow, gentle touches.

When I’m completely wrung out, I collapse back down onto the bed, my body limp, my chest heaving as I try to catch my breath. Gabe’s fingers slow, and then still, but he doesn’t take his hand away. He cups me lightly but possessively, trailing the fingers of his other hand up the back of my thigh. I turn my head to look at him, my face hot. It takes a second to get my eyes to focus, and I blink slowly. I feel dazed. Drunk.

He lays down beside me, his head propped up on his hand, looking devastatingly sexy.

I can’t believe this man is mine. That this gorgeous, sexy, sweet, kind man is mine.

It feels like a gift.

I skim my gaze down his body, taking in the slight sheen of sweat along his forehead, the dusting of hair over his chest, the tautness of his stomach muscles. His cock is hard and red, a drop of precum beading at the tip. Despite the fact that we’ve had sex twice, his balls look full and heavy.

I reach out tentatively, wanting to touch him. To feel him in my hand. He’s hot and hard, the skin so soft. I wrap my hand around him, biting my lip at the way my fingers don’t quite touch. He groans, his hips shifting restlessly, and his eyes flutter closed for a second.

“Show me how to touch you,” I whisper. “Teach me how to take care of your cock, Daddy.”

His eyes meet mine, the black of his pupils almost swallowing up the blue of his irises. He covers my hand with his, guiding me.

“Like this,” he says, his voice thick. He makes me squeeze him harder than I was and we start to stroke his cock together, all the way from the root to the tip in long, slow strokes. “It feels good when you squeeze the shaft, like this,” he says, and we squeeze harder than I would’ve thought would feel good around the thickest part of him. I can feel his pulse in his cock, throbbing against my fingers. I stroke him again, rapt as I watch his balls contract, his cock twitch.

“Look at this, angel. I’m dripping for you,” he says, guiding my hand back up and to the tip of his cock where precum drips steadily out of his slit. “Spread it around the head with your thumb,” he instructs, so I do, moaning at the slippery feel of it as I spread it around his flared head. His breath hitches as I do, and in this moment, I feel powerful.

“Right here, this is the most sensitive part,” he says, moving my thumb to the underside of his shaft, just below the head. He shows me how to stroke him there, his hand curled over mine,our thumbs grazing. His breath saws in and out of his lungs, his hips moving, pressing his cock into our hands.

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