Page 12 of Claimed By Daddy

My cheeks heat up at his demand. "Y-you can't do that," I manage to gasp.

"No?" He cocks a brow, a smirk playing at his lips. "And who's going to stop me, little angel? Judging by the way you're squirming, you aren't. You like what Daddy is doing to you even though you shouldn't."

"I…I…" He pinches my nipples again, twisting, and I nearly come unglued. But there's something about this game, something about pretending we shouldn't be doing this, that he's my daddy and this is bad, that I like a little too well. The dark look in his eyes says he likes it, too. "It's w-wrong. I'm your little girl."

He growls, his smirk widening into a wicked smile. "And that's exactly why it's so fucking right, pretty angel. Because you belong to Daddy. You're mine to play with however I want."

He dips his head, latching onto one nipple while teasing the other with the pads of his fingers.

His gaze never leaves mine, the intensity of it holding me captive. He sucks, his teeth scraping lightly, drawing a strangled moan from my lips.

"Daddy…" I sob, clutching at his head, my fingers tangling in the short strands of his hair.

He switches to the other breast without warning, repeating the same sweet torture until I whine and squirm beneath him, unable to stay still beneath the onslaught of pleasure.

"Fuck," he groans, pulling back to look at me. The predatory gleam in his eyes is full of satisfaction as he presses his body to mine again. "You're so fucking sweet."

"Carver," I whimper, feeling him against me, hard and demanding. I claw his shoulders, silently pleading for…something. Anything.

He knows what I need. His hand slips down my belly and then over my mound.

"I want you to scream for me," he grunts, shoving his hand between my legs to cup my center in his palm.

I cry out, startled at the way he grips me as if he owns my body, as if it's his to do with whatever he will.

"Feel that?" He growls low in his throat as he grinds his palm against my center, pressing my panties firmly against my clit. Sparks of pleasure shoot through my core. "That's how wet you are for your daddy."

"I…I'm sorry," I sob, not honestly sure if I should be this wet or not. It seems excessive. Is that normal? I don't know.

"Sorry?" His dark chuckle has my entire body breaking out in a sweat. "Oh, little angel. I have so much to teach you," he breathes, brushing his lips against mine. "All that sticky juice means I'm making that bratty cunt feel good."

"S-so good!" I agree on a whimper.

A wicked gleam lights up his gray eyes, and a laugh rumbles deep in his chest. He grinds his palm against me again, pressing just right against my clit. I gasp, my hips grinding down onto him involuntarily as I clutch onto his biceps for dear life.

"You're doing so well, little angel. Taking Daddy's touch just like I knew you would."

I whimper in response, not trusting myself to say anything more.

He begins to move his fingers against me in delicious circles, and the whole world turns into a spiral of pleasure. The heat is almost unbearable, making me gasp and writhe against him. I can't stop myself.

He hooks one finger into the side of my panties and tugs them to the side, his eyes locked with mine. I lose the ability to think, to breathe. I'm just pinned, trapped in his gaze.

One thick finger swipes through my folds, touching me skin to skin for the first time.

I'm not sure which of us likes it more.

"D-Daddy," I stutter, my entire body threatening to ignite.

He makes a sound that's somewhere between a desperate growl and a broken groan, his eyes blazing as he drops to his knees before me suddenly, staring up at me like I'm the only thing anchoring him to reality. That look on his face… God. He's so fierce my legs tremble.

"I have to smell it," he mutters, almost as if he's talking to himself. "Right now. Can't stop thinking about it."

"I t-t-thought you wanted me on my k-knees, Daddy?" I don't know where the question comes from, but it tumbles out of my mouth before I even think it.

"Later," he grunts, dragging my leg up over his shoulder. His nose presses against the thin fabric covering my center, inhaling deeply.

I feel exposed, seen in ways and places I never imagined, but I like it. His approval is a dark rumble that sets my pulse to racing.