Page 16 of His to Watch
"Yes," I gasp as his fingers work magic against me. "Please, Daddy, yes!"
My climax crashes over me with surprising intensity, my body clenching around him as waves of pleasure radiate outward. He holds me through it, his cock still hard inside me as I collapse against his chest, trembling and spent.
"That's my good girl," he praises, stroking my hair as I struggle to catch my breath. "So responsive. So perfect for Daddy."
I nuzzle into his neck, inhaling his scent, feeling more content than I can ever remember being. This strange night, this unexpected connection, has awakened something in me I never knew existed—a need to be possessed, to be praised, to be perfectly, completely his.
And I never want it to end.
ten
. . .
Jerald
I can't stop.Four times I've emptied myself inside her tight little body, and still my cock hardens when she smiles up at me with those innocent eyes. She should be sore, should be begging me to let her rest, but instead she's cuddled against me on the bench, her delicate fingers tracing patterns on my chest like she can't get enough either. I've never felt this insatiable need before—this hunger that doesn't diminish with feeding but only grows sharper, more demanding. I want to claim every inch of this museum with her, mark every exhibit with our scent, our connection. Make her associate every display with the memory of me inside her, filling her, breeding her. The thought of the planetarium—with its domed ceiling and artificial night sky—hits me like a lightning bolt. Yes. I need to have her there, beneath the stars, even fake ones. Need to see her face in that soft blue glow as I claim her again.
"Come with me," I murmur, shifting her gently from my lap. "There's somewhere else I want to take you."
"Where?" she asks, her voice soft with contentment as she tugs my shirt back down over her hips.
I could carry her—want to carry her—but I settle for taking her hand, enjoying the sight of her delicate fingers engulfed in my scarred palm. "You'll see."
She follows trustingly as I lead her through the modern wing, past the temporary exhibits, to the museum's planetarium entrance. It's a recent addition, completed just before I started working security here—a state-of-the-art facility with reclining seats and a domed projection system that recreates the night sky with stunning accuracy.
"The planetarium?" she asks, curiosity brightening her eyes.
I nod, pushing through the doors into the darkened space. The emergency power hasn't reached here—no red warning lights, just the faintest glow from exit signs. Perfect.
I find the manual override for the projection system—another perk of helping design the security measures for this place—and flip several switches. The dome above us slowly illuminates with thousands of pinprick stars, galaxies, and nebulae, bathing the room in soft blue-white light. Not the full show, just the basic night sky projection that runs on minimal power.
"Oh," Tatianna breathes, her face lifting to the artificial heavens. "It's beautiful."
But I'm not looking at the stars. I'm looking at her—the way the gentle light plays across her features, highlighting the delicate curve of her jaw, the fullness of her lips, the wonder in her eyes. She's fucking magnificent.
"Come here," I say, leading her to the center of the room where the viewing is optimal. No seats here, just open floor space where educators sometimes stand during presentations. I shed my uniform pants, kicking them aside, then gently tug her down to the carpeted floor with me.
"Lie back," I instruct, helping her onto her back on the soft carpet. "Want you to see the stars."
She complies, those big trusting eyes fixed on the glowing dome above us as I position myself between her thighs, gently pushing my shirt up to expose her body. The starlight casts her skin in an ethereal glow, makes her look like some celestial being rather than the earthly treasure she is.
"Gonna breed you right here under the stars, little girl," I tell her, my voice dropping to that possessive register that makes her shiver. "Make you mine in every fucking way."
Her breath catches at my words, her legs spreading wider in invitation. She's still slick with my previous releases, her pussy pink and swollen from use. The sight makes my cock throb painfully with renewed need.
"Please," she whispers, reaching for me. "Please, Daddy."
Christ, the way she says that word now—like she was born to call me Daddy, like it's the most natural thing in the world. I position myself at her entrance, watching her face as I push inside once more. No matter how many times I've had her tonight, the tight clasp of her body around mine still feels like coming home.
"Look at the stars while I fill you," I command softly, beginning to move in slow, deep strokes. "Ancient people believed making love under the night sky ensured fertility. That the gods would bless the union with children."
Her eyes flutter up to the dome above us, her lips parting as I hit that spot deep inside her that makes her gasp. "The Greek goddess Hera," she whispers, academic knowledge surfacing even now, "her milk sprayed across the sky to form the Milky Way when she nursed Heracles."
The fact that she can discuss mythology while I'm buried inside her only makes me want her more—this perfect blend of innocence and intelligence, of surrender and strength. I increase my pace, driving deeper with each thrust.
"Feel how deep Daddy is?" I growl, lifting her hips slightly for a better angle. "Gonna flood you up until your tits are so swollen you can spray milk too.”
She moans in response, her fingers digging into my shoulders as I pound into her. The stars wheel above us, silent witnesses to our claiming, our joining.
