Daddy's Girl
by Lila Hart
Copyright© 2026 by Lila Hart
Incest Sex Story: The only man she’s ever wanted is Daddy. This weekend her mother is gone.
Caution: This Incest Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Heterosexual Fiction Incest Father Daughter First Masturbation Oral Sex .
I’ve been wet for Daddy like this for the past year.
Not the soft, pretty kind of wet. The messy, aching, can’t-think-straight kind that leaves a dark spot on my sheets and makes my thighs stick together when I walk. “Ughhhh...” The kind that starts the second I hear his footsteps in the hallway and doesn’t stop until I’m shaking and biting my pillow so Mom won’t hear.
I’m nineteen. Still living at home. Glasses. Soft voice. The cute nerdy virgin everyone underestimates. The idea of packing up for college next year knots my stomach so hard I can barely breathe. How am I supposed to sleep without hearing Daddy’s low laugh from the other room? How am I supposed to wake up without the smell of his coffee pulling me toward him like a magnet? How??? Can’t be done!!
Mom has known something for a while. I see it in the tight line of her jaw whenever I crawl into his lap or beg him to brush out my wet hair after a shower. She watches us too closely. She suspects. But Daddy still looks at me with that warm, clueless pride, like I’m still his sweet, innocent princess who can do no wrong. “That’s right...”!
This weekend she’s gone.
Mom left for her 2-day conference. The door clicked shut behind her and the house went quiet. Different quiet. Like it was finally just ours.
I locked my bedroom door and leaned back against it. My heart was racing so hard I could feel it in my throat. My secret diary waited in the bottom drawer. I pulled it out, climbed onto the bed, and opened it to a fresh page. Soft light was coming through the curtains. My hand was already shaking when I clicked the pen.
I started slow.
Mom just left. The house is finally ours for the whole weekend and I can barely sit still.
I’ve always been Daddy’s babygirl. Not pretend. Real. It started when I was younger and he would carry me up the stairs after I fell asleep on the couch. I remember pressing my face into his neck, breathing him in, feeling so safe I never wanted him to put me down. His arms were so big around me back then. They still are.
Tonight that same memory keeps twisting. I want him to carry me upstairs again, except this time my legs are wrapped tight around his waist and his thick cock is already buried halfway inside me. I want every step to jolt him deeper while I whimper into his neck. I want him to lay me down on his marital bed and finally finish what he started without even knowing it.
I want to wrap my lips around that thick daddy cock and taste him for the first time. I want to choke on him. I want to look up at him with tears in my eyes while I drool all over the cock that made me.
The words made my stomach turn. I was taking every gentle memory he gave me and turning it into something filthy. My hand shook, but I couldn’t stop.
I want to ruin him for Mom. I want to make him addicted to his own daughter’s tight virgin pussy. I want to feel him lose control and fill me up again and again until his cum is dripping down my thighs and I’m carrying what’s his. And the worst part is I know it would break something in him too. I just can’t stop wanting it anyway.
This is going to destroy my family, and the thought only makes my pulse throb between my legs.
By the time I set the pen down my cheeks were burning and the crotch of my shorts was dark and clinging. I could hear the faint wet sound every time I shifted. I stripped out of everything, pulled on Daddy’s old gray t-shirt, and nothing else. The soft fabric fell loose around my bare thighs. The hem barely covered my ass. His scent clung to the collar, clean skin, warm man, faint cologne. I pressed my nose to it and inhaled until the room tilted.
I caught my reflection in the dresser mirror. Daddy’s shirt hanging loose. My nipples already tight, dark points pushing against the thin cotton. Thighs soft and pale. I bunched the shirt up under my breasts and stared. When he sees me like this. Not if. When.
I licked my thumb and rolled one stiff nipple between my fingers. “Ahhh...” The spark shot straight down. My knees wobbled. I climbed onto the bed, let my thighs fall open, and watched in the mirror as my pussy lips parted, glossy and flushed. Clear slick slipped free and trailed down toward my ass. I refused to touch my clit just yet. Instead I drew my knees to my chest, arched until my hips lifted, and imagined Daddy’s strong hands locking around my thighs, holding me wide open.
This is so wrong. He used to tuck me into bed and read me stories. Now I’m lying here with my legs splayed like a whore, aching because I can’t stop thinking about his cock stretching me open. The thought should have made me sick. Instead it made my thighs tremble and more slick run down my skin.
I rolled onto my stomach and started grinding against the sheet. “Mmmhh...!” The wet spot beneath me grew fast. I pictured his thick thigh instead, hard muscle, warm skin, his big hand pressing between my shoulder blades while I humped him like a desperate animal. The orgasm swelled up quick. I forced myself to stop completely, chest heaving, pussy squeezing around nothing, more wetness leaking in a steady trickle.
I eased one finger inside, then a second. “Ahhh ... so wet.” The slight burn felt perfect. Wet sounds filled the quiet room. I pumped them slow, then pulled them out and brought them straight up to my face. The smell hit me first. Sweet. Thick. Me. I licked them clean, tasting myself, and the filthy little sound of it made my stomach twist. Then I shoved them back in and kept going.
Minutes blurred. I kept bringing myself right to the edge. Fingers deep, the low buzz of the vibrator on my clit, circling, then forcing myself to stop, shaking and leaking, over and over. Every time I stopped I pulled my fingers free and sucked them again, smelling how much wetter I was getting. The storm outside grew louder, matching the one inside me. I wanted to be ready. Tight enough to make him groan when he first pushed in. Open enough that he could sink deep without hurting me.
I stopped moving and just held my fingers buried inside, feeling my walls try to pull them deeper. Then I shoved a pillow between my thighs and ground down hard. The pressure on my clit built fast. I clamped my legs shut and froze right on the brink. “I need him so bad...” I wanted to stay this desperate. Wanted him to find me soaked and shaking so the second his hands touched me I’d fall apart.
I buried my face in the bundled shirt and bit down hard. His smell surrounded me. My pussy kept fluttering and squeezing, leaving the pillow darker with every shift. When the shaking finally eased I wiped my face with the back of my wrist. Everything felt sticky and ruined.
Lightning flashed. Thunder cracked right after. I curled onto my side, knees drawn tight, one arm hugging the damp shirt to my face while the other slipped between my thighs, cupping my soaked pussy. My swollen folds burned hot against my palm, still twitching and leaking. Every tiny shift made my slick inner lips slide together with a quiet filthy sound.
I whispered into the shirt. “ ... love you, Daddy.”
Then I drifted off just like that, curled into a tight little ball, bare ass peeking out from under his shirt, thighs clamped around my soaked hand, pussy still leaking slowly onto the sheets.
I was floating in that warm, hazy place between sleep and waking when I heard the soft creak of my bedroom door.
“Em? Sweetheart, you still asleep?” Daddy’s deep, familiar voice drifted in, low and careful. “I was gonna order pizza and wanted to know what you...”
The words cut off.
For a second there was only silence. Then the door closed behind him. Footsteps, quiet, hesitant, crossing the room toward my bed.
I was still curled on my side, knees drawn up tight, Daddy’s big gray shirt rucked up around my waist. My bare ass was completely exposed, one thigh draped over the other, my hand still trapped between my legs, fingers resting against my sticky pussy. The sheets beneath me were dark and damp in a messy patch. The whole room smelled like warm girl and sex.
The mattress dipped when he sat on the edge.
“Jesus, babygirl...” he breathed, so quiet I almost thought I imagined it. His voice sounded different. Lower. Rougher.
A big warm hand tugged the hem of his shirt down, trying to cover my ass and thighs. The fabric dragged over my skin but it was too short. His fingers brushed the back of my bare thigh and he hesitated. Like he didn’t know whether to pull away or keep going. The heat of his palm burned there. He realized what he was touching and still didn’t take his hand away.
“Emily...” His voice was rougher now. “Em, wake up, sweetheart. It’s getting late.”
His hand settled on my shoulder, and he gave me a gentle shake. Then another, firmer. His thumb stroked slow circles against my skin like he used to when I was little and having a nightmare.
I stirred with a soft, sleepy sound, eyelids fluttering open. My body was still heavy with arousal, pussy throbbing lazily against my own fingers, the scent of my wetness thick in the air between us.
Daddy was right there, close enough that I could see the slight flush on his neck, the way his jaw flexed. His eyes flicked down for half a second to where the shirt had already ridden back up, exposing the curve of my ass again, before snapping back to my face.
He looked like he was fighting himself.
“Hey...” he murmured, voice gentle but strained. “You okay, princess? Dinner time.”
I blinked up at him, still half-dreaming, my hand still cupped possessively between my slick thighs.
“Pepperoni and mushroom...” I mumbled, voice thick and raspy. “Extra cheese. And ... can we get the cheesy crust?”
He let out a soft chuckle. “Yeah, baby. I can do that.” His thumb brushed my shoulder again. “You gonna come down soon?”
“Mhmm. Few more minutes,” I whispered, eyes already drifting shut again. “Promise...”
I felt the mattress shift as he stood. The soft sound of his footsteps retreating. Then my door closing behind him.
Then silence.
My eyes snapped open.
He saw.
He had to have seen.
I sat up slowly. Thighs stuck together with a faint embarrassing sound. The room smelled like sex. My sex. Sweet. Musky. Unmistakable. Daddy’s shirt clung to my skin, damp in places from my sweat and the steady leak between my legs.
I pressed both hands to my burning cheeks.”OMG...!!!”
He walked in and found me like that. Curled up like a little slut, ass out, no panties, fingers tucked against my dripping pussy, sheets ruined. How long was he standing there before he tried to cover me? Did he stare? Did he see how swollen and shiny I was? Did he smell me?
A sudden shiver rolled through me. Fresh warmth trickled out of my hole and ran down toward the sheets again.
Part of me wanted to die from embarrassment. The bigger part, the dark hungry part, loved it.
I imagined him standing in the doorway, eyes locked on my bare ass, watching the slow twitch of my pussy as I slept. Maybe his cock got hard. Maybe he had to adjust himself before he came closer. Maybe he stood there breathing in the scent of his own daughter’s cunt while I dreamed about him fucking me.
I hugged my knees to my chest, burying my face against them, torn between shame and a fresh rush of filthy heat.
He saw me like that ... and he still covered me gently. Still called me princess. Still touched my shoulder like I was his innocent little girl.
The contrast made my stomach twist. Sweet and sick at the same time.
I waited until my legs felt steady enough. Then I stood, tugged the shirt down over my hips, and left everything else off, no panties, no bra. Just his scent all over my skin and this deep, hollow throb between my thighs that refused to fade.
I walked to the top of the stairs and stood there for a moment, heart hammering, one hand resting low on my belly. My legs shook before I could steady them. I could hear how soaked I was every time I shifted my weight, a faint, embarrassing, slick sound that made my cheeks burn.
What if I drip on the floor? What if he smells how filthy his babygirl is right now? The same man who used to tuck me in is about to see me like this, shirt sticking to my wet pussy, and I’m hoping he does.
I took a deep breath. Softened my face into that sweet innocent smile I’ve perfected. Then stepped into the living room.
There he was.
Daddy stretched out on the big sectional, legs spread wide in that relaxed way he always sits. He’s wearing nothing but those soft gray sweatpants that hang low on his hips and cling to every inch of him. My eyes lock straight between his thighs. That thick, heavy bulge rests against one muscular leg, the fabric molded perfectly around the shape of his cock. Even soft it’s impressive.
My tongue presses to the roof of my mouth as I stare. I can practically feel the warmth coming off it. Faint masculine musk drifts up from him, mixing with the clean scent of his skin and the rain outside. My breath catches. I bite my lower lip hard, trying to keep the sweet innocent face while fresh heat pulses between my legs.
Daddy looked up from his phone the second I appeared. His eyes caught on me and stayed. Something sat behind the usual warmth. Heavier. Quieter. Like he still hadn’t shaken the upstairs image. They flicked over me. Daddy’s old gray t-shirt hanging loose, hem barely covering the tops of my thighs, nipples pushing against the thin fabric. That look landed low in my stomach. It wasn’t the soft proud one. It carried the upstairs with it. He didn’t look away fast enough.
For half a second his gaze stayed. Then he cleared his throat and pushed the warm smile back into place.
“Hey, princess. Pizza should be here in about twenty minutes. I got the extra cheese and cheesy crust like you wanted.”
I padded over to the couch on bare feet. Cool air on my slick thighs with every step. Fresh trickle of wetness threatening to escape. I climbed onto the sectional right beside him, closer than I should have. Tucked my legs under me and leaned into his side, cheek against his broad shoulder like I’d done a thousand times.
The shirt rode up high in the back. I didn’t fix it.
“Thanks, Daddy,” I murmured, voice still a little sleepy and soft. “I’m starving.”
He draped his arm around me. Big hand on my waist. I felt the heat of his palm through the shirt. The way he held me felt a little heavier than usual, like he was being careful without realizing it. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from squirming.
We waited. The storm raged outside. Rain against the windows. Baseball game low on the TV. Daddy’s thumb moved in slow absent circles against my hip. Every stroke made the hem of the shirt creep higher up my bare thigh. I kept my eyes on the screen pretending to watch, but my mind was somewhere else.
I kept replaying the moment he found me upstairs. The way he’d gone quiet. The way he’d tugged the shirt down over my ass. Had he seen how wet I was? Had he smelled me? Was he thinking about it right now while his hand rested on my waist? The same hand that already touched my bare skin.
My pussy throbbed. Another rush of slick slipped out and ran down my thigh. I pressed my legs tighter trying to hide it, but it just made my folds slide together with this quiet wet sound I was scared he’d hear.
Daddy shifted. His thigh brushed mine. The thick heavy shape in his sweatpants was right there, so close I could almost feel its warmth. Even soft it looked massive. The outline of the fat head and the long shaft against the gray fabric made my mouth water.
I wanted to crawl into his lap. I wanted to grind my bare, dripping pussy against that thick bulge until he finally snapped and did something about it.
Instead I stayed curled against him like the perfect innocent babygirl. Breathing in his scent while my heart hammered and my pussy leaked steadily onto the cushion under me.
The doorbell rang twenty minutes later.
Daddy gave my waist a gentle squeeze before standing up. “Stay put, I’ll get it...”
I watched him walk away, eyes locked on the way his sweatpants hugged his ass and the heavy swing of what hung between his legs. The second he disappeared around the corner I let out a shaky breath and slipped my hand between my thighs, pressing two fingers against my soaked folds just to feel how messy I’d gotten.
When he came back with the pizza boxes I pulled my hand away fast and gave him my sweetest smile. Cheeks flushed. Thighs sticky. Heart racing with filthy desperate need.
We ate pizza on the couch. Storm raging outside like it was trying to tear the house down. Daddy had two big slices, relaxed and focused on the game. I sat curled beside him with my own plate, legs tucked under me, hem of his shirt barely covering anything.
Every time he looked over I gave him that sweet innocent smile. Inside my head it was pure filth.
How far can I push tonight?
I imagined scooting closer until I was in his lap. Imagined “accidentally” letting the shirt ride all the way up so he could see how bare and wet I was. Wondered what would happen if I reached over and rested my hand on that thick bulge I couldn’t stop staring at. Would he freeze? Would he finally stop pretending?
I took another bite of pizza. Cheese stretching. Fresh wetness slipped out and wet the cushion under me. I was making a mess on the couch and the thought only made me wetter.
Daddy glanced at me again, eyes soft. “You okay, princess? You’re awfully quiet tonight.”
There was a tiny tightness in the way he said it. Like he was checking more than just my mood. I wanted him to already know. I wanted the one who saw me upstairs to stay, not the one still trying so hard to act normal.
I swallowed and smiled, cheeks warm. “Just tired from my nap. And the storm makes me feel ... cozy.”
He nodded and went back to his pizza and the game.
When we finished eating he leaned back with a sigh, one arm along the back cushions. Eyes on the TV. I stayed right where I was, pressed against his side, legs still tucked, heart hammering.
The shirt had ridden up again. I didn’t fix it. Cool air on the lower curve of my bare ass. Constant slow drip of my pussy onto the cushion.
I waited until the silence between us felt heavy.
Then Daddy stood up, stretched, and walked over to the big dark leather armchair in the corner. The deep high-backed one with the worn arms. Soft black leather that always smelled faintly of him. He dropped into it with a low groan, legs spread wide in that relaxed way he always sat. One hand on the armrest, the other scratching lightly at his beard. TV light on his face.
My heart slammed harder. That chair. The one I’d pictured a hundred times while writing in my diary. The one I’d imagined straddling him in while he watched the game. My bare pussy grinding against the thick bulge in his sweatpants while he pretended not to notice.
I slipped off the couch and padded over on bare feet. Oversized shirt brushing the tops of my thighs. Stopped just in front of him, twisting my fingers in the hem.
“Daddy?” My voice came out soft and sweet. Almost shy. “The storm’s getting really loud ... Can I sit with you?”
He glanced at me. That warm easy smile spread across his face. Full of love and pride. The same smile he’s given me since I was little. Eyes crinkled at the corners.
“Of course, babygirl. Come here.”
I climbed into his lap without hesitation. Swung one leg over his thick thigh and settled against his chest exactly the way I’d fantasized. My bare soaked folds pressed against the hard muscle of his leg through the thin fabric of his pants. “Mmmhh...” The second my weight settled he stiffened under me. Small catch in his breath. His hand landed on my waist a beat slower than it should have. I rested my hand on his chest right over his heart and looked up at him through my glasses. Cheeks already flushed.
Daddy’s arm came around my waist. Heavy and warm. Pulling me closer.
That smile hits me hard. I have to press my thighs together for a second just to steady myself. The man who walked into my room upstairs is still here under the smile and I don’t want him to disappear.
I nuzzle into the warm curve of his neck, breathing in his clean masculine scent. “I’m cold, Daddy. Warm me up?”
I roll my hips in one slow careful glide. Aahhh... The wet sound is soft but filthy. I keep my face tucked against his neck so he can’t see the way my eyes flutter and my lips part. Every tiny roll drags my sensitive skin against his thigh muscle, leaving more slickness behind. The wet sounds of my pussy sliding on his thigh grow louder even over the rain.
Daddy’s hand keeps those slow lazy circles on my thigh. He chuckles softly, warm against my hair. “You really are cold tonight, huh, princess?” His voice is so gentle. So full of protective love it makes my chest ache.
I’m secretly grinding my bare pussy all over him like a needy little slut while he holds me like I’m still pure. The power of that contrast, his love and my hunger, makes everything feel more intense. I love him so much it hurts. I also want him to wreck me.
I stay pressed close, heart hammering, already hungry for more.
I start with tiny circles, slow and careful, like I’m just getting comfortable. Then I let the rolls grow a little longer, a little bolder, pulling back until I open wider before sliding forward again. Each movement sends fresh sparks racing through me. “Mmmphh...” I have to bite my lip harder to stay quiet. My breath comes out in soft, shaky puffs against his neck as I fight the urge to grind harder. The rhythmic, wet sounds of my slickness against the soaked fabric keep getting louder.
Daddy shifted slightly beneath me. “You settling in okay, princess?” his voice low and warm.
I nod against his neck, not trusting my voice. His cock is starting to wake up for me. The thought sends another rush through my chest, but it only makes me want him more.
That’s when I feel it.
His cock starts to respond under the soft sweatpants. It twitches once, heavy and alive against the side of my thigh. Then it thickens fast, swelling right there beneath me. The fat head pushes noticeably against the fabric, pressing up firm and hot right under my soaked pussy. Oh so hot... I can feel the veiny shape of the shaft now, thick and heavy, the ridge of the head flaring as it grows harder by the second. It jumps against me with every heartbeat, the weight of it impressive and intimidating and so perfectly Daddy.
I can’t stop feeling it. Every pulse makes my breath hitch. The thick vein running along the top of his shaft presses insistently against my clit through the soaked fabric. The fat, mushroom head nudging right under my slit like it’s trying to find its way inside. His precum is already darkening the front of his pants, mixing with how wet I am. The combined scent of us, warm, intimate, and completely addictive, drifts up between our bodies. “Mmmhhn...”
I press my lips to the side of his neck and suck gently, tasting salt and skin. “I love you, Daddy. More than anything.”
His hand slides higher under the t-shirt, palming my bare ass. His fingertips rest dangerously close to my entrance, so close I can feel the warmth of them teasing my slick skin.
Thunder rolls again. My breathing turns ragged. Every tiny roll of my hips makes soft, filthy wet sounds that feel way too loud. I know how crushed he’d be if he realized his sweet princess is grinding her bare virgin pussy all over him like a desperate little slut. The thought only makes me press down harder, dragging my slick folds along his thickening cock.
His warm, masculine scent fills my head with every shaky breath. Under the thunder and rain are the quiet, obscene sounds of my soaked pussy sliding back and forth on his bulge, sticky, messy, constant. My own breath comes out in hot, trembling puffs against his neck.
This is the same lap I used to fall asleep in after nightmares. The same thighs I climbed when I was tiny and scared of thunder. Now I’m rubbing my dripping virgin cunt all over them like a filthy secret. The shame burns deep, but it twists into something darker and hungrier.
I’m corrupting my own protector, using the love he has for his little girl to turn him into something he never asked to be. And I can’t stop.
Daddy’s hand keeps stroking my bare thigh in those lazy, affectionate circles. His cock is fully hard now, thick and insistent, the heavy shape of it jumping every time I roll my hips just right. I bite my lip hard, fighting the moan that wants to slip out, and let myself grind a little firmer, letting my slick inner petals spread open and hug the rigid outline through the ruined fabric.
Just a little more. Just until I can feel him leaking for me too. OMG ... I’m getting so turned on.
I keep rolling my hips in those slow, dragging circles, lost in the slick heat building between us, when Daddy’s phone lights up on the coffee table and starts ringing loud. The screen flashes Mom. The sharp sound cuts through the storm like a blade.
We both freeze.
My bare pussy stays pressed tight against his now rock-hard cock through the soaked sweatpants. The thick shaft feels massive under me, fully flushed, the veiny length trapped right along my slit. My soft outer lips hug the rigid outline.
I don’t move away. Instead, I give one tiny, secret roll of my hips, rubbing my sensitive clit firmly along that pulsing bulge. The friction sends a spark through my core.
“Answer it, Daddy,” I whisper sweetly against his neck, voice soft and innocent even as my bare pussy presses against his pulsing cock. “She’ll get suspicious if you don’t.”
He swallows hard, breath hot against my hair. One hand stays glued to my bare ass, fingers digging in as he grabs the phone. “Hey, honey,” he says, voice already rough around the edges. His cock jumps hard between my thighs, the thick head nudging right against my entrance.
I stay perfectly still while he talks, short answers about the storm, about work, about how he’s just watching TV. Mom’s voice sounds tiny and far away through the speaker. The second he relaxes into the call, I start moving again. I roll my hips in slow, filthy little circles. My soft outer lips spread around the fat ridge of his cock through the soaked sweatpants. “Unhhh...”. Every tiny glide drags my clit across the swollen head. The wet sounds are quieter now, muffled by his voice and the phone, but I can still hear them, sticky, constant, filthy.
What if Mom hears that sound? What if she realizes her own daughter is grinding her dripping pussy all over her husband’s cock while they talk?
The thought makes my stomach flip, but I don’t stop. I keep my face buried in his neck, lips brushing his skin with every small movement. My breath comes out shaky against his throat. The risk makes my heart slam so hard I’m scared he can feel it.
Daddy’s voice stays mostly steady, but it keeps catching, roughening every time I drag myself over him. His free hand flexes hard on my ass, fingers squeezing like he’s trying not to and failing. He shifts once beneath me, a small, restless roll of his hips that presses his cock harder against my slit. He’s fighting it. I can feel him fighting it.
I drag my pussy lips slowly up and down his entire length, feeling every thick vein and the flared ridge of the head catch on my clit. The fabric between us is completely soaked now, clinging to both of us. Every time I rock forward, my entrance kisses the underside of his shaft. Every time I slide back, my clit gets another firm nudge.
The power rush hits me hard. Here I am, secretly rubbing my virgin pussy all over Daddy’s rock-hard cock while he talks to Mom like nothing is happening. And he already saw too much upstairs. He already knows something is wrong with the way he looks at me, and I’m still doing this under her voice. Shame burns up the back of my neck. I know how devastated he’d be if he knew what his sweet princess is actually doing. But that same shame only makes me grind a little firmer, spreading my folds wider around him.
Mom’s voice stays tinny and distant. She has no idea. She has no clue her daughter is smearing her slick all over her husband right now, marking him while she’s miles away.
I keep the movements small and steady so he can still talk. My thighs tremble from holding back. I want to slam down on him so bad, but I force myself to stay controlled. Every roll makes fresh wetness coat his sweatpants. The heavy musk of us mixes together under my shirt, warm skin, precum, and my own desperate scent.
Daddy clears his throat twice when Mom asks him something. His hips twitch upward once, pressing his cock harder against my slit. I bite my lip to stay quiet, eyes half-closed, lashes fluttering as the pressure builds deep in my core.
The call drags on. Every second feels dangerous and perfect. I’m corrupting him right under her nose, using the love he has for his little girl to turn him on, and the worst part is he already saw me ruined upstairs and still hasn’t pushed me off. The knowledge twists in my chest, sharp and sickening.
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