Page 83 of Painted Scars
He taps the inside of my knees. “Wider.”
I obey. And then… oh, fuck. His hands lock around my thighs to hold me in place as he tastes me torturously slow with teasing passes of his tongue.
“I need more,” I gasp, grinding against his face.
“Bad girls don’t get what they want.” Grumpy Daddy bites the tender edge of my pussy and doesn’t soothe the burn with a suck.
I try to stay still. I really do. But my hips have a mind of their own, rolling in furious need. He stops until I still. I grip the seat tighter and dig my toes into the dirt. Pleased, he rewards me with a deeper flick of his tongue, adding suction, and I nearly scream and rock forward.
“That’s it,” he croons, palming my ass. “Such a good girl.”
Two fingers slide into me with unholy precision, curling just right, and I arch, biting my lip to stop myself from begging.
He pulls them out and lets out a deviant chuckle. “Look at how wet you are, Glitter Bomb.”
Squelching sounds follow, and I moan, picturing him stroking himself with the slick he stole from me.
“Fuck, Daddy. Please.” I buck involuntarily, need overtaking common sense.
Another crack lands on my ass. “Be still.” Then another and another until I’m drifting in a haze of heat.
Moisture runs down my thigh, and he catches it with a greedy tongue, licking me like I’m the sweetest dessert he’s evertasted. His fingers plunge inside me again, tormenting me with a rhythm just shy of what I need.
“Grumpy Daddy,” I beg, on the edge of delirium.
He breathes against my clit, stroking the fire, but not giving in. “Do you need to come, baby?”
“Yes, God, yes!”
“Say it right.”
I whimper each word like a prayer. “Please, Grumpy Daddy, let me come. I promise I’ll be a good girl. Don’t punish me.”
“That’s my girl.” He buries himself between my thighs, tongue furious and unrelenting.
My orgasm tears through me like a star gone supernova. I scream out his name, bucking against the bike, and it wobbles beneath me. Shaking, breathless, and undone, I slump over the seat.
He stands, his boots scraping rock. “Stay like that, my good girl.” His hand glides down my back, smooth and reverent. “And I’ll give you what you’ve earned.”
A condom wrapper crinkles and tears as he sheathes himself.
He fists my hair in one hand and clamps the other on my hip, slamming into me. The intrusion is blinding and delicious. Grumpy Daddy doesn’t slow down, wrecking me with every glorious slap of his hips into me. The friction is sharp and deliberate in the best fucking way.
My breath shudders out with every impact. “I can’t?—”
His grip on my hair pinches my scalp. “You’ll take every inch of your Daddy’s cock like the little brat you are.”
The claim is raw and primal, and I want him to tattoo it into my skin. He pounds me through it, and I feel every swell and surge of his cock as he loses control. My legs quake, and my second orgasm crashes over me like a landslide of boulders from the mountain. My body convulses, and my arms jerk in my restraints.
“Fuck. That’s it,” he chants. “That’s my girl.”
He presses his chest to my back and pins me to the bike, chasing his own edge. A hoarse grunt tears from his throat, and he spills into the condom, his hips jerking. His body curls around mine like a shield and holds me. The world goes quiet except for our breath. I can’t move if I try.
I listen to his heart race in time with mine until he peels away from me, his palm sliding up my spine to the back of my neck. “Was that too much?”
“No,” I breathe. “Not enough.”
A soft laugh escapes him. “Look at my greedy girl.”
