Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 29451 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 147(@200wpm)___ 118(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29451 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 147(@200wpm)___ 118(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
But I can still see her face when I called her a cum dump. That devastation. It’s haunting me right now, especially after seeing that in-depth scrapbook, as I flick open the button of my jeans and look down at June. She’s gorgeous in the way fire is gorgeous, her red hair fanned out around her face, her shadows catching on her cheekbones. A siren. Way too young for me. Way too innocent.
A girl who is confused as to whether I’m a father figure or a sex symbol.
I hate myself for being turned on by that. Believe me, I do.
I’ve always spent my time with age-appropriate women. Older women, even.
But something strange and chemical happens inside of me when I think of this girl—just June—calling me Daddy. Trusting me with her virginity because I’m the man who provides and cares and protects her. I don’t know where this urge is coming from, to be all those things for her, but my balls are drawn up tight as fuck thinking about it.
I want to be the ideal she built up in her head.
I want to reward her for waiting for me.
She waited for me.
God, is that supposed to make me so hard? Knowing she probably turned down hundreds of men, if not thousands, because she wanted my cock inside of her first?
Daddy’s cock. It needed to be Daddy.
Oh hell. Stop thinking like that. It’s sick.
I can’t seem to help it, though. I feel a sense of ownership for this girl, and it only gets stronger as the night goes on. That front desk clerk is lucky he walked away with his teeth after he asked out my June Bug. It’s too soon to think of her like that. As mine. But common sense didn’t follow me into this room. I may have abandoned it in my dressing room as soon as she walked in. It’s like my body and mind knew she was important.
Her gaze is drawn to the zipper of my jeans where it juts out shamelessly.
She bites her lip, reaches down to unbutton her own jeans, working them down her hips. I take hold of the ankles and drag the denim the rest of the way, groaning when she reveals a pair of little white panties, a noticeable damp spot on the crotch. “Someone’s excited for her first time.” I hook my index finger in the waistband of her underwear and slowly, slowly drag them down her thighs, revealing her tender-looking cunt, bare and sealed tight. I trace the seam with my index finger, groaning over how smooth she is. “When you fantasized about my cock here, did I leave a creampie behind?”
Her stomach hollows on a shudder. “Yes,” she whispers.
I bite back a guttural curse. “You on the Pill?”
She nods.
“Smart girl.” I nudge open her closed flesh and tease her clit, her hips jolting sideways on the mattress. “Although hell, I’m not sure the Pill can handle the amount of sperm Daddy is going to put inside this wet little cunt tonight.”
June’s sob rents the air, her back arching off the bed.
I watch in growing obsession as wetness spreads along her flesh, down to the tops of her inner thighs. “Please…”
“Please what?”
“Get on top of me.”
“That’s exactly where I want to be, baby. I’m just making sure I’m under control first.” Bracing for what I know is going to be hell on my senses, I position myself above June and slowly press her down into the mattress, big and rough on top of sweet and supple, my dick throbbing every time one of her curves locks into place against me, my bulge finding a soft home between her legs. Ohhh God. Just like that. Right there. I rock my much heavier body on top of hers and we tumble into a kiss, our mutual moan of satisfaction pouring through me like hot oil, that luscious body inviting me to fuck it hard. That’s all I know how to do and now, I’m being presented with the female I want to fuck the hardest, fastest, urgently, so urgently, but June needs care. Lovemaking.
She needs to be guided through it by a worthy man.
A man worth his salt.
I want to be that for her, instead of some cynical, washed-up alcoholic.
And God, I want to make up for the fucked-up way I acted.
“Can you be inside of me now?” she gasps in between deep, head-spinning kisses.
“No, baby,” I say, my voice like gravel, because son-of-a-bitch, her mouth tastes like sugar and she squirms beneath me every time our tongues lick together, her thighs trembling around my hips. June loves making out. That much is clear. I’ve raced to the main event my whole life, but now I’m being offered a mouth that is inexperienced and honest and gasping and it’s like I’ve never been alive until now. She’s so eager, so responsive, I can’t think straight. I maul her mouth again, again, again, humping her through my jeans, and she gives. June pours everything into her kisses. Trust like I’ve never experienced. Trust like I couldn’t possibly deserve.