Sex With Daddy

We kissed like we were drowning, hands clutching, bodies pressing together, trying to get closer despite already being skin to skin. His hands slid under my sleep shirt—one of his old college shirts I'd stolen from his laundry—and found me bare underneath.

"You wore my shirt," he growled against my mouth. "And nothing else. Were you planning this?"

"I've been planning this all night," I admitted breathlessly. "Lying there next to Harper, counting down the minutes until I could come to you."

He groaned and walked me backward until my back hit the door. His hands explored under the shirt, cupping my breasts, thumbing my nipples until I was biting my lip to keep from moaning.

"We have to be completely silent," he reminded me, his voice low and commanding. "Not a sound. Can you do that?"

"Yes," I breathed.

"Good girl." He pulled the shirt over my head, leaving me naked, and took a moment to just look at me in the moonlight. "You're so fucking beautiful. Do you know what you do to me? Walking into my bedroom in the middle of the night, knowing I can't resist you?"

"Show me," I challenged.

He lifted me easily and carried me to his bed—the bed he'd shared with his ex-wife, the bed that was supposed to be sacred and off-limits. He laid me down on sheets that smelled like him and stood looking at me with an intensity that made my breath catch.

"I need you to understand something," he said quietly, his hands going to his boxer briefs. "This isn't just sex for me anymore. I don't know when it changed, but somewhere between that first time on my desk and now, this became something else. Something more. And that terrifies me, because I'm forty-two and you're nineteen and this is so fucking complicated. But I need you to know: you're not just some girl I'm fucking. You're—" He stopped, seemingly unable to finish.

My heart felt too big for my chest. "I'm what?"

"Everything," he admitted. "You've become everything."

The confession hung in the air between us, massive and terrifying and perfect.

"I think I'm falling in love with you," I whispered, the words escaping before I could stop them.

He made a sound that was half-groan, half-laugh. "That's the worst possible thing you could have said right now."

"Why?"

"Because I think I'm falling in love with you too," he said. "And that makes this so much worse. So much more impossible."

"Then stop thinking about impossible," I said, opening my arms to him. "And just be with me. Right now. That's all we have."

He shed his boxer briefs and climbed over me, and the weight of him settling between my thighs felt like coming home. He kissed me slowly, thoroughly, like we had all the time in the world despite knowing we had to rush before someone woke up.

His hand slid between my legs and found me already wet, ready for him. "Always so responsive," he murmured against my lips. "So ready for me."

"Only for you," I breathed. "Only ever for you."

He positioned himself at my entrance and pushed inside slowly, both of us biting back moans at the sensation.

No condom this time—we'd stopped using them after that first weekend, after I'd assured him about birth control, after we'd both admitted we wanted nothing between us.

"You feel like heaven," he said roughly, his forehead pressed to mine as he bottomed out. "Every single time, you feel like heaven."

He started moving with slow, deep strokes that had me struggling to stay quiet. This position—missionary with him above me, our eyes locked—felt impossibly intimate. More intimate than the frantic fucks in his office or his car. This was making love, and the realization made tears gather in my eyes.

"What's wrong?" he asked immediately, stopping.

"Nothing's wrong," I whispered. "Everything's right. That's the problem. This feels so right and it should feel wrong."

He kissed away the tears that escaped. "I know, baby. I know."

He continued his slow rhythm, and I wrapped my legs around his waist, wanting him deeper, wanting to feel every inch of him. His hand slid between us to find my clit, rubbing gentle circles that had pleasure building steadily.

"I want to try something," he said quietly after a while. "Something we haven't done yet."

"What?" I was game for anything with him.

"I want your ass," he said bluntly. "Want to have all of you. Every part. But only if you want it too."

Heat flooded through me at the thought. "I want it. Want you to have all of me."

"It might hurt at first—"

"I trust you," I interrupted. "Completely."

He pulled out carefully and reached for his nightstand, retrieving lube from the drawer. The fact that he'd prepared for this—that he'd thought about it, planned for it—made my pussy clench.

"Roll over," he instructed. "On your stomach."

I obeyed, and felt him straddle my thighs, his hands smoothing over my ass appreciatively. "Perfect," he muttered. "This ass has been driving me crazy since you showed up this summer."

I felt cool liquid drip onto me, then his fingers rubbing it in, circling my asshole gently. "Relax," he coached. "This works better if you're not tense."

He worked one finger inside slowly, and the sensation was foreign and intense but not painful. He took his time, adding more lube, stretching me carefully with first one finger, then two, then three.

"How does it feel?" he asked.

"Good," I gasped into the pillow. "Strange but good. I want more."

"Greedy girl," he said with affection, removing his fingers and positioning himself. "This is going to be intense. Tell me if it's too much."

He pushed inside slowly, and the burn was immediate and overwhelming. I bit down hard on the pillow to keep from crying out, breathing through the stretch as he worked his way in inch by inch.

"Doing so good," he praised, one hand stroking my back soothingly. "Taking me so well. Almost there, baby. Just a little more."

When he was fully seated, he held still, letting me adjust. The fullness was unlike anything I'd ever felt—more intense than vaginal sex, deeper somehow, pushing boundaries I didn't know I had.

"Okay?" he checked.

I nodded into the pillow, not trusting my voice.

He started moving slowly, gentle thrusts that gradually turned the burn into something that felt shockingly good. His hand reached under me to find my clit, and the dual stimulation had me climbing toward an orgasm faster than I'd expected.

"Touch yourself," he ordered quietly. "I want you to cum with my cock in your ass."

I did as he said, my fingers finding my clit while he fucked my ass with steady strokes, and the combination was devastating. My orgasm built and built until I had to stuff my fist in my mouth to muffle my scream as pleasure crashed over me.

He groaned and his pace increased, his control slipping, and then he was cumming too, filling me with hot spurts while I was still trembling through aftershocks.

We lay there catching our breath, both processing what had just happened, when we heard it.

Footsteps in the hallway.

My blood turned to ice. James pulled out carefully and we both froze, not daring to breathe.

A soft knock on the door. "Dad?" Harper's sleepy voice came through. "You awake?"

Panic shot through me so intense I thought I might pass out. I looked at James with wide, terrified eyes, and he mouthed "Closet. Now.”