When my orgasm fades and he finally stops, I know he’s not done. This man is so goddamn hard, he might actually fuck me through this bed. Grayson hooks one of my legs over his arms and slams into me with no warning. Before I can make any noise or react, he wraps his hand around my throat and tightens until I can hardly breathe. When he starts to move his hips, he fucks me devastatingly hard and deep, like he’s trying to hurt me. Heishurting me, but goddamn, it’s fucking heavenly.
Despite the fact that he is choking me while slamming his cock against my cervix, he is also peppering my face with soft kisses, whispering the sweetest fucking things.
“You’re so fucking beautiful… God, I love you… You feel so fucking good… Mine. You’re all mine… Come for me, Baby Girl. God, just like that. Fuck, this tight little cunt.”
His sweet, yet possessive, words rattle around in my brain, and it pulls me into a sort of daze that I have no desire to escape. He releases my throat before dropping down and burying his face in my neck. I am weak, but I wrap my arms around his neck to hold him.
“You want my come, don’t you, Baby Girl? I can feel how much you love how I hurt you,” Grayson groans.
“Yes, Daddy. Please come in me,” I moan.
Have you ever had one of those moments where something comes out of your mouth, and you would do anything to reverse time to take it back? The second I open my stupid fucking mouth, it comes out without warning. My moans instantly sound panicked, and I freak the fuck out. I go from hugging him to my chest to actively fighting him while he fucks me. He doesn’t stop. I can hear him saying something, but I can’t focus. Why the fuck did I say that? He is nothing like my father. He is nothing like my stepfather. What the fuck is wrong with me?
“Stop. Milly. Stop. Baby,” Grayson says. When I don’t listen, he grabs me by the throat and squeezes until I can’t breathe. “You are either going to listen, or fucking suffocate.”
“I’m sorry,” I choke out through tears when he lets me breathe.
“You have nothing to apologize for, sweet girl,” he says before gently kissing me. “Do you trust me, Milly?”
“Yes,” I whimper.
“Say it again,” he says as he starts to move his hips again, fucking me deep. “Say it, Milly. Trust me.”
“Daddy,” I whisper. I am immediately rewarded as he quickens his pace and pushes deeper. “Oh God…”
“No… Say it,” he grunts. “Say it and tell me what you want.”
“Please let me come, Daddy,” I say hesitantly. He quickens his pace, and it clicks. Hewantsme to call him Daddy. If I’m goingto call this man, Daddy, I’m going to do whatever I have to do to be his good little girl. For the first time in my entire life, I step away from how others see me and chase what I want. Right now, it is Grayson Fucking Torres to be my Daddy.
Whatever the fuck that means.
Grayson rolls us, so I am on top. As he thrusts his hips up, I rock mine into his. Our bodies collide over and over, sending me spiraling into desire so deep that I’ll never be able to escape it.
“Oh, Daddy. Fuck. Oh Fuck. That feels so good,” I moan as I cling to him. The harder he fucks me, the more he forces me to say it over and over. It’s coming out of me so naturally. It’s as though it is a scar to open, and he is rewriting everything I have ever known.
“Yes, Daddy. Yes. Oh my God. I’m coming,” I nearly whimper as my orgasm explodes and tightens my body around him.
“Fuck, Milly,” Grayson moans in my ear as he drains his cock inside me. Eventually, I stop moving, and I am left limp with his cock still buried inside of me. We are breathless and exhausted, so neither of us move.
“Gray…” I start to say as I sit up.
“No,” he says, pulling me back to his chest. “No regret. No remorse.”
“I called you Daddy,” I whisper. I sniff back tears, and he squeezes me in a hug.
“Did you picture me as your father or stepfather at that moment?”
“No, but…”
“Then it was said in a different context. If you didn’t connect it to them, then it’s not about them. It’s about you wanting someone to take care of you. Calling me Daddy tells me that you see me as a caretaker. A provider. Someone you feel safe with. It is not sexualizing a parental figure or incest. It is not attaching me to your trauma. It’s you expressing yourself in ways words will never explain.”
“I love you,” I say softly.
“I love you too, Baby Girl,” he says, kissing the top of my head. I smile and bury my face, and he chuckles. “You like it when I call you, Baby Girl?”
“Yes. It makes me happy,” I admit.
“Good. Go to sleep, Baby Girl,” he says.