Page 12 of Rough Marshal Daddy
“Such a pretty little pussy,” he murmurs, spreading mythighs wider with his big hands. “Look how wet you are for me. Dripping already. All mine.”
I’m soaked. I can feel it, the slickness coating my folds and inner thighs. Mason settles between my legs, broad shoulders holding me open. He leans in and runs his tongue slowly up my slit, groaning like I’m the best thing he’s ever tasted.
“Oh god,” I moan, hips jerking. The sensation is electric, hot and wet and perfect. His tongue is firm and confident, licking broad stripes before circling my clit with devastating precision. “I’ve never done this before,” I admit.
He stops, pulling away so he can gaze into my eyes. “Virgin?”
I nod, slowly.
“Fuck me,” he groans, lowering himself and resuming his work on my clit. “That’s it,” he growls against me, the vibration making me whimper. “Let Daddy taste this sweet virgin pussy. So fucking tight and wet. Been thinking about burying my face between these thighs since the moment I saw you.”
He licks deeper, tongue pushing inside me, fucking me with slow, deliberate strokes. His stubble scrapes against my sensitive inner thighs, adding a delicious edge ofroughness. One of his thick fingers joins his tongue, sliding into me carefully, stretching me open. The fullness is intense but so good. He curls the finger, stroking a spot inside me that makes stars burst behind my eyes.
“So tight,” he rasps, adding a second finger. “This little pussy is going to squeeze my cock so good when I finally fuck you. But first Daddy’s going to make you come on his tongue.”
He sucks my clit into his mouth, hard, while his fingers pump steadily. The wet sounds of his mouth and fingers fill the cabin, obscene and perfect. I’m moaning loudly now, hips rocking against his face, chasing the pleasure that’s building so fast it scares me.
“Come for me,” he commands, voice muffled but dominant. “Come all over Daddy’s face like the naughty girl you are. Let me taste it.”
The words push me over the edge. Pleasure crashes through me in powerful waves, my back arching off the bed as I cry out his name. My thighs clamp around his head, pussy pulsing around his fingers as I come harder than I ever have in my life. He keeps licking and stroking me through it, drawing out every last tremor until I’m a trembling, breathless mess beneath him.
When he finally pulls back, his lips and chin are shiny with my arousal. He looks feral and satisfied as he crawlsup my body and kisses me deeply, letting me taste myself on his tongue. It’s filthy and intimate and I love it.
He rests his forehead against mine, breathing hard. “I’m going to make lunch now,” he says, voice rough but with a hint of that protective control returning. “You need to eat.”
I’m still floating, body humming with aftershocks, my mind spinning. I just came so hard with a man I barely know, a man who’s supposed to be protecting me. And all I can think about is how soon I can get him to do it again.
12
Mason
I stand in the kitchen area with my back to the bed, hands gripping the edge of the counter hard enough that the wood creaks under my fingers. My cock is painfully hard, thick and throbbing against the front of my jeans, leaking steadily and making the fabric stick to my skin. Every heartbeat sends another pulse of need through me. The taste of Riley is still on my tongue, sweet and addictive, and the memory of her coming apart under my mouth plays on repeat in my head. Her soft cries. The way her thighs trembled around my face. The slick heat of her virgin pussy clenching around my fingers. I crossed a line I had no business crossing.
I force myself to move, pulling out bread, sliced turkey, cheese, and a couple of cans of soup from the supplies. The metal cans are cold against my palms. I open themwith the manual opener, the sharp crank of the tool loud in the quiet cabin. The rich aroma of chicken noodle soup rises up as I pour it into a pot and set it on the stove. The burner clicks to life with a small blue flame that hisses softly. I stir the soup slowly, watching the noodles and vegetables swirl in the golden broth. The steam carries the comforting smell of carrots, celery, and herbs, but it does nothing to calm the ache in my body.
My dick refuses to soften. It strains painfully against my zipper, the head slick and sensitive. I shift my weight, trying to adjust, but the friction only makes it worse. I want her so badly it hurts. I want to bury myself deep inside that tight heat and feel her come around my cock while she calls me Daddy. But I can’t. Not when she’s leaving soon. Not when her life depends on me keeping a clear head.
I glance toward the boarded window. The storm is finally slowing. The wind has lost some of its fury, and the snow falls in gentler flakes now instead of the blinding sheets from before. Sunlight is starting to peek through in weak patches, turning the white landscape into something almost peaceful. The roads will clear soon. The Moretti family is still out there searching, moving pieces across the state like the dangerous predators they are. Once the storm lifts completely, Riley will go into full WITSEC. A new name. A new life. Somewhere far from here. Somewhere I’ll neverknow about. The thought settles heavy in my soul, a dull ache that has nothing to do with my injured arm.
She’ll disappear from my life as suddenly as she entered it. And I’ll go back to the empty cabin and the long lonely patrols. The idea makes something twist painfully inside me. I’ve never felt this way about an assignment before. Never let myself get this close. Riley’s different. Her light, her strength, the way she looks at me like I’m her safe place. It’s cracked something open in me that I thought was long dead.
I finish the sandwiches, layering turkey and cheese on thick slices of bread. The bread is slightly stale but still good, the crust crisp under my knife. I cut them diagonally, the way my mother used to when I was a kid, and plate them next to steaming bowls of soup.
I carry everything to the small table near the fire. The bowls clink softly against the wood. Steam rises in fragrant curls, carrying the aroma of herbs and broth. I set the plates down and call out without looking at her.
“Lunch is ready.”
Riley comes over a moment later, still wearing my oversized t-shirt and sweatpants. Her hair is messy from sleep and from my hands earlier, and her cheeks are flushed. She looks beautiful. Soft and warm and far too tempting.She sits down across from me, pulling her legs up under her on the chair.
She picks up her spoon and takes a small sip of soup, humming softly in appreciation. “This is really good. Thank you.”
I grunt in response and take a bite of my sandwich. The bread is hearty, the turkey salty and satisfying. I chew mechanically, barely tasting it. My eyes keep drifting to her mouth as she eats, watching the way her lips wrap around the spoon. My cock twitches again, still painfully hard. I shift in my seat, trying to hide it.
We eat in near silence for a while. The only sounds are the clink of spoons against bowls, the crackle of the fire, and the distant, weakening howl of the wind outside. The generator hums steadily, keeping the vents blowing warm air that rustles her hair. I can see the way the fabric of the t-shirt clings to her breasts when she leans forward. It makes my mouth water.
I force myself to stay cold. Distant. If I let the warmth in, if I let myself feel everything I’m feeling for her, I’ll pick her up, carry her back to that bed, and bury myself so deep inside her she’ll never forget who she belongs to. I can’t do that. Not when she’s about to be taken away from me forever.
“Eat all of it,” I say, my voice coming out gruffer than I intend. “You need the strength.”
