Page 34 of Filthy Mouth
“You loved it—being on your knees, swallowing what I gave you. You loved me ruining your lace, dipping them in champagne and making you suck the filth off your knickers. My filthy girl… you’ll beg me to do it again.”
She whimpered, hips working harder, grinding down on me in long, desperate rolls that made her tits bounce in my hand. I caught one nipple between my teeth and tugged, listening to her cry out beneath me.
“That’s right… fuck yourself on my cock. Show me how bad you want it. You’re not my designer now, Poppy—you’re my whore. And whores wake up with a cock in their cunt, begging to be filled.”
Her nails clawed at my shoulders, her breath ragged as she bucked harder, chasing the friction, chasing the orgasm that was already coiling through her belly. I pinched both nipples between my fingers, pulled them cruelly, and thrust deep, balls slapping against her soaked folds.
“Come on my cock, Princess,” I snarled into her ear.“Show me how a good little slut wakes up.”
Her pussy clenched like a vice around me, and I felt her walls fluttering, begging for release. I let go of her nipples and gripped her hips instead, slamming her down onto my cock, over and over, until the sound of her wet cunt filled the room.
“That’s it—take it, take every inch. You want to be used, don’t you? My filthy little fucktoy, waking up dripping and needy for Daddy’s fat cock.”
Her head thrashed on the pillow, hair sticking to her sweaty face as she cried out. I rammed harder, faster, the slap of my balls against her clit making her scream.
“Come for me, Poppy. Drench my cock. Show me how messy you are.”
Her body convulsed, thighs trembling as she let go. Hot liquid burst over me, splattering my stomach and the sheets. She screamed, nails raking down my back, as wave after wave of release shook through her. I didn’t know if she’d pissed herself or squirted on me, but it didn’t matter. I fucking loved it.
“Fuck yes,” I snarled, grinding deep, feeling the gush coat my cock and balls.“Look at you—soaking me, soaking the bed. My perfect little slut, pissing her pleasure all over her Daddy’s cock.”
Her cunt still rippled around me, milking every inch as I held her down, driving through the flood until she collapsed limp and trembling beneath me. I slammed into her with a grunt, pressing my balls against her as I came inside her. Hot spurt after spurt, jetting inside her beautiful cunt.
When I caught my breath, I kissed the side of her mouth, filthy and tender in the same breath.“Good girl. That’s how you say good morning.”
I pulled out slowly, watching my spend trickle down her swollen folds. She sighed, boneless in the sheets, until I grabbed the empty champagne flute from the nightstand. I pressed it between her thighs, collecting every last drop as it slid from her pussy.
She lifted her head weakly, lips parting as if she already knew what was coming.
I swirled the cloudy mix in the glass, thick with the taste of both of us. But instead of handing it to her, I drank it down myself—slow, deliberate, making sure her hazel eyes never left my throat as I swallowed.
She licked her swollen lips, breath shuddering, waiting.
I leaned down, lips grazing hers, and let a mouthful of it pool back into her mouth with my tongue, messy and hot. Her muffled gasp made me groan. I pulled back just long enough to gather another thick strand of spit in my mouth and forced that into her too, pressing her chin until she gulped everything down.
“Breakfast of champions,” I murmured darkly, thumbing her wet lips apart to watch the last of it drip down her tongue.
Her cheeks hollowed as she swallowed, eyes glazed, thighs pressed together in desperate heat.
“Good girl. Drink every drop Daddy gives you,” I growled, sliding two fingers between her lips and watching her suck them clean.“Come and spit for breakfast. That’s all you need.”
I could never get enough of those filthy lips.
Chapter 14
Poppy
The afternoon passed in a blur. Meetings came and went, but I couldn’t recall a single word. Lunch might as well have been cardboard—I couldn’t taste anything past the throb between my legs, the sting of bruises blooming across my skin. My fingers kept drifting to my mouth, tracing lips still swollen from his cock. Every thought, every shift of my body circled back to Benedict’s filth.
He’d brought me coffee and fresh pastries, casual as anything, feeding me pieces with that dark laugh—as if it were the most natural thing in the world, as if we’d done it a thousand times before.
And that was the problem, wasn’t it? Every other man I’d ever known seemed like an amateur by comparison. Edmund and his oily smile. The endless stream of society-approved suitors. All of them faded into nothing.
I chewed the inside of my cheek and came to the only logical conclusion. If lifetime dick options were on the table, Benedict’s was the one. Tried, tested, devastatingly effective. No man had ever fucked me like that—and no one ever would again. The sexy cherry on top was calling him Daddy. It was an invisible slap to my father’s face each time I called Benedict Daddy.
By the time I was halfway through a design, I wasn’t even focusing on it when my brain had betrayed me. A dick pro and con list. For Benedict.
Pros:
