Page 32 of Praise Me: Pilot

I’ve left a mess on my leather chair by the time he pulls out, my chin shiny with spit, my hair is tangled from his fingers. “How do you want me?” I gasp in between drags of breath.

He fists my hair and draws me to my feet, turning us and sitting down.

Leaning back with his arms on the sides of the chair, his sex protruding from his lower body, fat and veiny, his eyes are a storm of obsession. With me.

“Where does Daddy go?” he asks, thickly.

“Inside me,” I manage, squeezing my thighs together. Trembling. “Deep.”

“Good girl. Do what you’ve been taught.”

I hike my skirt up and straddle him on the chair, taking him inch by incredible inch until I’m fully impaled, the ten inches of throbbing male sending rhythmic ripples from my tummy tomy sex. Oh.Oh my goodness. He stretches me in a slow melt that is almost enough to bring me to climax, but I squeeze tight and hold on, wanting to savor him. This. I’m almost acclimated enough to move, but I cry out when he rips my blouse down the middle, sending buttons clicking all over the ground.

“I’m hungry, Haylo. Fuck me like you’re trying to get pregnant.” He wrestles back my head, using his teeth to drag my bra down my breasts, exposing them to the cool room. Spitting on them one by one, before leaning in hard to bite the meat of my right breast, sending a wave of sharp longing to the deepest recesses of my core. “You know the kind of fuck I’m talking about. I want to feel your little womb.”

His tone, a unique combination of demanding and vulnerable, brings into focus why he’s acting like this. Why he wants our lovemaking to be even more intense than usual.

My father is coming to dinner tonight. It’s a rare occasion, though our relationship with him and his new wife is warm. We might never be close, but our rapport is improving all the time. There’s just a little something in the past, something that was exorcised in a hotel room in Barcelona a decade ago, that puts my husband in a mood to be reassured.

Bottom line, Joel will want me to sit at the dinner table tonight looking sated.

Which won’t be difficult, because that’s how I spend my life.

“You make me so happy,” I whisper against his mouth, beginning to move, lifting and scooting my hips up and back, balancing on the steel length of him, plunging down and rolling my lower body. “You make me so hot,” I confess breathily, finding a bouncing pace, throwing in a filthy twist of my hips every time he’s fully buried, making his jaw unhinge, his grip turning bruising on my butt cheeks.

“Atta girl,” he grits out, a sweat already building on his forehead. “Atta girl.”

He hasn’t seen anything yet.

Surging forward I bury my teeth in his neck and grind my hips down, “Please,” I whine, rotating my hips in slow circles, his groans of bliss only encouraging me. “I want your sperm, Daddy.Please. I need it in my pussy.”

He shouts a triumphant epithet at the ceiling. “I’ve got two balls full of it for you, angel,” he says, hoarsely. “Keep riding.”

“I can’t stop,” I whine through my teeth. “I’ve never been able to stop.” I fuse my mouth to his in a frantic kiss that I mimic with my body movements. “Not since you showed up and taught me how a real man treats a young lady.”

His head falls back on a full body roar, his hips starting to pump up, up, up, bouncing me up and down with loud slaps of our laps, our thighs.

There it is.

This is what he needs.

“I needed my real Daddy,” I pout, baby talking while I lick his neck collarbone to jaw, bathing his ear in my labored breaths, wondering if he hears my pulse pounding out of control for him. Only him. Until the end of time. “Now I’ve got you deep inside of me. In my body. In my heart. You’re all I need.”

“Say that again,” he says, raggedly, lunging out of the chair, taking two strides and slapping my butt down on the desk, his peak streaking toward us like a comet. I feel it. I feel it in the swell of his sex as it frantically finds its home inside of me, cramming to the hilt, his sex already beginning to leak and jerk like a live firehose. “Again.”

“You’re all I need.” I start to chant what he needs to hear, purring happily when his thumb rubs my clit in gentle circles that gradually become firmer. Faster. “You’re all I need. You’re all I need.”

He must feel the truth of those words, or see the utter dedication to him in my eyes, because he stiffens and climaxeswith a roar of my name, filling me full of his hot seed, that final revolution of his thumb shooting me into outer space where I float, float, reaching for Joel, knowing he’ll always be there to hold me. Ground me. Love me.

“You’re all I need, too, angel,” he says thickly into my hair, kissing my face in several different spots, like I’m his precious treasure, running his hands over every inch of my body. “My love. My life. My Haylo.”

“Your Haylo,” I say, kissing his lips. “Forever.”

THE END