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We end up in his room. I shiver as he sets me down on top of the duvet.

“Take off your shorts,” he instructs.

My hands are clumsy, but I manage to wiggle out of them, the ruffles trailing down my thighs. I leave the socks and shirt on, not sure if that’s allowed, but Adrien seems to like it, because he pulls me onto my stomach, then drapes himself over me so I can feel the hard outline of his cock through his jeans.

His hands—one warm and bare, the other cool and smooth—run slowly down my back, and when he palms my ass, I almost yelp. He doesn’t even hesitate—just grabs a handful of my ass and squeezes. The plug presses deeper as he spreads me and I gasp, my face burying itself in the sheets.

“Pretty,” Adrien murmurs, sounding darkly amused. “And look at you, all flushed already.” His palm cups my cheek, almost soothing. “You want to show me how good you can take it? Or do you want Daddy to play with you a little first?”

My brain short-circuits. I want both, but the idea of him “playing” feels so dangerous, so huge, that I can’t even answer. I nod, the movement awkward with my cheek mashed against the bed.

“That’s what I thought.” He ruffles my hair, then rolls me gently onto my side and props my knee up to open me more. “Hold here,” he tells me, and puts my hand on my knee, and I grip it like a lifeline. He’s always like this—no matter how much space he takes up, he’s always so careful with me, as if I’m made of crystal instead of skin and want.

A drawer clicks open, and I know what he’s getting even before I hear the sloshy pop of the lube bottle. The sound causes a Pavlovian response in me by now; I can feel my cock throb.

He kneels behind me, one hand braced on the mattress, the other tracing the curve of the plug where it disappears into my body. “You really kept it in, huh?” His voice is softer now, almost proud. “Good boy. I bet you’re so sensitive.”

He twists the plug just a little, and I bite my lip, not wanting to whine, but I can’t help the sound that slips out. Adrien hums in approval, then grips the base and slides it out, slowly and carefully, but it’s still enough to make my vision go white at the edges.

Before I have a chance to recover, he’s already touching me again. Two lubed fingers circle my rim, and then breach me in a single practiced motion. It doesn’t burn one bit. I moan and try to push back, but Adrien’s other hand catches my hip and holds me still.

“Patience,” he soothes. “Daddy’s going to open you up real nice, then you can have your reward.”

I squeeze the pillow so tightly I think the seams are going to pop.

He works me open with deep thrusts, his fingers scissoring and stretching until I’m panting, forehead damp against the pillowcase. Every now and then, he stops just to stroke my back or murmur something into my hair, and each time he does, I want him more.

“Stay right there,” he says, and disappears for a second. There’s a rustle, and then he’s back, except this time his hand returns with the glass dildo I haven’t been able to take yet. He drags it up my inner thigh, cool and smooth, and I tense, knowing what’s coming. The dildo is different from the plug—longer, thicker, shaped straight and slick, with a little swirl of pink in the glass that almost matches my shorts.

“You take this, princess, you’ll show me you’re ready for my cock.”

I swallow. My throat is dry. I nod, because I want to impress him, want to be so good he never even thinks about getting rid of me. “I’m ready, Daddy.”

“That’s my boy,” he says fondly.

Daddy coats the glass in lube, then nudges the head to my opening. Even with how stretched I already am, it’s a shock—cold, slick, blunt. He works just the tip in, rocking it side to side, and the sensation is so weird, so intense, that I gasp and dig my fingers deeper into my own thigh.

He moves slowly, adding only a little more each time, watching me the whole time. My hips tremble. I try to breathe, but every push feels like it’s rearranging my bones, every twist catching on something deep and electric. I push back without meaning to, and Adrien’s hand settles over my lower back, steadying me.

“Easy,” he says, but his voice is ragged too.

The glass slides deeper, and suddenly there’s a burst of pressure, a white-hot shock that races through my belly and straight to my cock. I can’t help it—I let out a high, breathy whine, and Adrien groans in response, the sound rough and hungry.

“There you go,” he praises, “that’s perfect.” He inches it out, then back in, a little farther. “You’re so good for me, Kammie. So beautiful. Take it. Just like that.”

I want to answer, but my jaw is clenched, and all I can do is nod and moan. He sets a rhythm, slow at first, then gradually faster, deeper, and every thrust pushes me closer to the edge. My cock is leaking against the sheets; I can feel it, sticky and desperate.

Adrien’s fingers slide under my shirt and play with my nipples, twisting them just hard enough to make my head spin. He knows exactly what that does to me. I’m mewling now, shameless and loud, and I realize I don’t care if the whole state can hear.

“Daddy—” I beg, but I don’t know what I’m begging for. Release? More? Less? For him to never, ever stop?

He leans over me, his breath hot in my ear. “You want to come for me, baby? Want to make a mess all over Daddy’s bed?”

“Yes, please—No, wait—I want—want to cum on Daddy’s dick,” I gasp, trying to hold back my orgasm even as he rocks the dildo in a circle, battering my insides. But something inside me starts to unravel, and the pleasure is dazzling, terrifying, greater than anything I ever imagined.

He presses the length of his body against my back, and his voice is so close it’s almost vibrating in my head. “Kammie,” he says, and his tone is serious in a way that makes everything inside me go very still, “I want you to cum for me first, sweetheart.”

I whimper, humping the bed in desperation, but he gently pins my hips so I can’t rub against anything. “Daddy—please—”