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His mouth is on me before I can argue, leaving a series of long, wet kisses along my inner thighs. I should push him away to prepare for Kiki’s arrival, but in the month we’ve been married, my body has learned to respond to him with a terrifying immediacy. As he makes his way north with a purpose I recognize, panic flares through me. “Vance! I mean… Daddy! I’m still… Last night… You…”

“I know exactly what I did to you last night,” he growls against the uppermost part of my thigh, his lips dusting against my skin with a gentleness that contradicts the filth in his voice. “I know exactly how many times I came inside you. How full I left you.” His hands spread the lips of my pussy, exposing me as his breath blows hot against my sensitive flesh. “And I know what I’m going to taste when I put my mouth on you.”

His tongue drags along the length of my pussy in one long, possessive stroke, and I cry out, my hips bucking involuntarily. My back arches off the bed when his teeth graze over my clit as he sucks it into his mouth. He’s not gentle. Though he never is when he’s like this. But there’s something different in his urgency this morning.

“Fuck,” he groans against me, the vibration sending shockwaves through my core. “You taste so fucking sweet and salty. Like us.”

I whimper, humiliation warring with arousal, knowing he’s leaking out of me. He’s tasting it, lapping at the mixture of his cum and my arousal with a hunger that makes me want to die and unravel simultaneously.

“So fucking good,” he moans, his tongue delving deeper. “I made damn sure you’ll never be able to deny you’re mine.” He suckles my clit again, as his fingers slide easily through the slick mess he’s made until they’re buried deep inside me. “This is how I want you when you’re fertile. Dripping with my fucking cum.”

His words are filthy and degrading in a way that makes my toes curl and my heart race. He should be disgusted—any of the men I was with before him definitely would’ve been—but Vance is groaning like the taste of his own release mixed with mine is the most exquisite thing he’s ever had on his tongue.

He feasts on me with single-minded devotion, his mouth working my clit while his fingers curl inside me, pressing against that spot that makes white light burst behind my eyelids. I’m sensitive from last night’s marathon, making the sensations of his industrious work overwhelming. “Please,” I gasp, not knowing whether I’m begging him to stop or continue. “I can’t… I need…”

“You’re going to come on my tongue,” he demands, his words vibrating against me. “And then you’re going to take my cock again. Because I can’t get enough of this. Of you. And knowing you’re fucking full of me, even when I’m not inside you.”

The image he paints—of being so thoroughly claimed that his essence becomes and is constantly part of me—sends me over the edge. I come with a cry that sounds too loud in the morning quiet, my inner muscles clamping down on his fingers as my hips grind against his face while he drinks me down. He doesn’t stop until I’m trembling, whimpering, and pushing at his shoulders. When he finally lifts his mouth from me, his lips are shiny with my desire, and his eyes are more hungry than ever before.

Vance kisses up my body before taking my mouth. I taste myself on his lips, but I also taste him. He deepens the kiss, filling my mouth with the salty musk of his flavor mixed with mine, as our tongues tangle. He takes until I’m breathless, like he needs to claim that part of me, too.

“Fucking beautiful,” he whispers when he pulls back, a smile spreading across his face. It’s rare and genuine, transforming his face from a ruthless predator to an adoring husband.

He shifts his weight between my spread legs, the new position nudging the thick head of his cock against my swollen, sensitive pussy. “I know you’re sore, sweetheart,” he murmurs, the low rumble of his voice vibrates through my chest, “but I need to fill you up, and we don’t have time for me to be gentle.”

Staring down at me with an intense, possessive gaze, he drives into me so forcefully it steals the air from my lungs. A strangled cry escapes my lips when he buries himself to the hilt with the singular, brutal stroke, abruptly stretching the tender flesh still slick with both of us. The burn is immediate, a deep, aching fullness that borders on pain, but a wave of dark, possessive pleasure quickly follows, swallowing the discomfort whole.

Without waiting for me to adjust, he pulls out and plows into me again. He fucks me at an almost punishing rhythm, his hips slamming against mine with a primal need. Each powerful thrust drives the air from my lungs in helpless gasps as he fucks me into the mattress. The violent slapping sounds of flesh meeting and the moans and grunts of our lust fill the room. Vance’s large, rough hands grip my hips so tightly his knuckles blanch white as he holds in place for his onslaught. His blue eyes burn with a single-minded purpose that is both terrifying and intoxicating; his gaze doesn’t once waver from mine.

“Look. At. You,” he grunts, punctuating each word with a powerful snap of his hips that forces moans and whimpers over my lips. “So sore, but still taking my cock so fucking well.” His hold tightens painfully on my hips as he yanks me back to meet his next vigorous thrust, the power of it stealing my breath.

“This pussy was made for me, wasn’t it?” He presses his body flush with mine, his chest brushing against my aching nipples as his hips piston into me. Burying his face in the hollow of my shoulder, he sloppily kisses my neck. He whispers, breathless with exertion, “Made to be filled with my cum over and over again.”

I can only manage a choked sob in response, my hands fisting the sheets as my body surrenders to the overwhelming pain-filled pleasure, a fresh gush of arousal flooding my pussy.

“Fuck, yes,” he growls when the surge of wetness coats his throbbing length, making the glide of his cock slicker.

He captures my wrists and pins them above my head with one hand before hooking my thigh over his hip with the other. The new angle leaves me completely at his mercy, and he takes full advantage, his strokes becoming deeper, more punishing. “You fucking love being bred, don’t you?”

I whimper, trying to shake my head, but my body betrays me. My hips rise to meet his, needing desperately to come. His fingers wrap around my throat as he grits, “Answer me, Sophia.”

“Y… yes,” I gasp, the admission choking through his firm hold. “God, yes, Daddy.”

“Good girl,” he praises, the bedframe groaning in protest as his tempo quickens. “I’m going to pump more of my seed into this tight little cunt.” His words send a shiver through me, and a dark smirk touches his lips when he feels it. “So fucking full of me. Every time you shift in your seat, you’re going to feel me there.”

The coil in my core tightens, the pleasure building to an unbearable peak. His hips begin to piston faster, the slap of his skin against mine growing louder. “You’re going to remember how Daddy fucked you this morning,” he pants, his thrusts becoming erratic, more desperate. “How I claimed you.”

His words are a litany of ownership, each one designed to reinforce his dominance and paint a vivid picture of my body as his personal vessel. The thought, so potent and forbidden, sends me spiraling, and I am helpless to do anything but drown in it.

“Come for me,” he commands, the demand harsh as he chases his own release, determined to drag me with him. “Come on my cock like the good little wife you are. Let me feel you milk every drop of cum from me.”

He sinks his teeth into my breast as he captures my nipple, vigorously swirling his tongue around it, and it’s my undoing. My orgasm crashes over me with the force of a tidal surge, a scream billowing from my lungs as my body convulses beneath him. My inner walls clamp down on his thick length, spasming uncontrollably as wave after wave of pleasure washes through me. My nails rake down the powerful muscles of his back, digging through his flesh as my body arches to meet his final, brutal thrusts.

He comes with a loud, guttural grunt, his body going rigid as he buries himself deep inside me one last time. His hips jerk erratically as he empties himself completely, his face a mask of raw, unadulterated ecstasy. He collapses on top of me, his heavy weight pinning me to the bed with his face buried in the crook of my neck, his hot, ragged breaths fanning across my skin.

For a moment, we lie there in a tangled, sweaty mess, the only sound in the room is our combined panting. When he slowly pulls out of me, the loss is immediate and profound, leaving me feeling hollow and achingly empty. A thick trickle of his warm cum immediately follows, leaking from my well-used pussy and pooling on the sheets beneath me. I watch through heavy-lidded eyes when he pushes himself up, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. He leans over, opening the nightstand drawer and pulls out a fresh, sleek silicone plug slightly larger than the one he removed earlier. He kneels between my legs, his gaze falling on the messy, swollen sight of my pussy.

“You look so beautiful,” he praises softly in a low, intimate rasp. “So thoroughly used and full of Daddy’s cum.” He gingerly spreads my legs wider, his fingers carefully parting my swollen lips. While he is surprisingly gentle, I still flinch as his touch brushes my over-sensitive flesh. After gathering the escaping cum, he gingerly eases the smooth, cool plug into my pussy. The silicone slides through the slick mess of our combined releases. He pushes it in carefully, until it’s seated snugly inside me.