Page 32 of Castaway Whirlwind
Grinding my teeth, I grab one of the decorative throw pillows and place it over my lap when she empties the bucket in the backyard, then comes to the coffee table with a spray bottle of wood cleaner and a microfiber towel. I can’t force myself to get up and leave the room as I should when she bends in half to scrub the coffee stain on the bottom rightcorner where I accidentally knocked over a mug a few days ago.
Back and forth and back and forth, she scrubs, her tits driving me wild. They’d swing just like that if I were making love to her from behind, and it’s too much. I buck my hips up against the pillow, wishing I had the weight of her on my lap.
“Darlin’,” I moan. I didn’t mean to say anything, and I come close to cumming in my jeans when she stops scrubbing, still bent in half, and looks me in the eye.
“Are you ok, Daddy?” Layla asks with genuine concern.
I think I stop breathing.She said it again.Daddy. “Yeah,” I manage to utter, keeping my lips shut when I should tell her not to call me that, considering the debauched effect it has on me.
“Are you sure?” She begins to straighten.
“Yes, yes. I’m fine.”
She goes back to scrubbing after grabbing a different cleaner, even changing the angle so I have a better view of her bottom, which shakes in a circle the harder she scrubs. She’s gonna gouge the wood if she keeps that up.Lordy, I hope she does.
“F—” I almost curse in front of her when I tip my head to the side, catching a view of the seam of her shorts pulled taut against her pussy. I’d love to bury my face between her cheeks, bite that strip of jean fabric, and tear it off her.
I can’t help it. I shove a hand under the pillow to grip my cock over my jeans. My chest rises and falls faster the harder I squeeze, flexing my grip.I am not masturbating.This doesn’t count. I’m not a pervert. I’m not!
Finally, she gives up on the stain and sits on her knees with an exhausted sigh. “Sorry. Don’t think that’s coming out unless you sand and restain it.”
I’m in too much pain from holding back my orgasm to doanything but grunt again.
“Mind if I have some of your water?” She motions to my glass, which I refilled before I fell asleep.
Another grunt.
Then, the little temptress sits up on her knees and tips her head back, exposing the length of her slender neck while she swallows, her breasts jiggling slightly with her back arched. She makes a satisfied noise afterward, her lips pink and wet.
“I think I’m done for the day,” she says, swiping the back of her hand across her forehead.
I do nothing but stare at her little mouth. Would she even be able to fit my cock inside it? Or, if she ever did grant me the greatest gift of touching each other, would we have to settle for her simply sucking the tip? Precum wets my boxer briefs further, and I have my answer. I would kill to have her lick and sip from me while I slowly jack my cock until I cum in her mouth, urging her to drink me down.
I groan at the mental image. And for about thirty seconds, I’m content with simply fantasizing about it, but the need for release is too urgent. Trying to be subtle, I unbutton my jeans beneath the pillow, roll down my zipper, and then shove my hand in my pants. A full-body shiver works its way down my spine to the tips of my toes when I grip my shaft with my bare hand.
Layla takes another long swallow, then gives me a small smile. “You sure do have a lot of bedrooms for a man who lives alone.”
I don’t live alone by choice, I want to say while flexing and releasing my grip on my shaft.I’m waiting for you.
“It really is a beautiful home.”
Finally, I can speak. “It’s got nothing on you, darlin’.”
Chapter 10
Layla
My heart swells at his compliment, and I know exactly what I’m doing when I say softly with a real blush, “Thank you, Daddy.”
When Goldie told the Granny’s Girls aboutDaddy’s Rules—the sexy ones Davis made up for her—and Dolly confessed to a similar dynamic with Wyatt, I went down the rabbit hole of books and videos online regarding the kink and discovered something new about myself—though I don’t think I’d enjoy being spanked like they do.
It’s a kink I never in a million years would have explored with Steven, but I think I want to with Russell. Only with Russell. Because, after all these years, I think I can trust him with something like this now that he’s opened the door to it. And also because he’s the sexiest man alive. Gruff, yet oddly extra-sweet in his own way…when he’s not lecturing me, that is.
Russell’s nostrils flare, the tips of his ears turning red, which tells me he likes it when I call himDaddy, too. So I do it again after walking my knees out, giving him a view of the V of my thighs. “Did I do a good job cleaning the house, Daddy?”
When his right shoulder dips down and up repeatedly, I realize he’s finally touching himself—though I wish the pillow wasn’t in the way. My show of arching my neck and back worked.
“Oh, darlin’, yes. You always do such a good job.”
