Page 70 of My Big Fat Daddy Issues

I move my hand to her chin, pressing my fingers upward and forcing her to look at me.

"Do you remember all the times you cuddled with me in your bed like this?" The darkness of the fantasy narrows my vision to a tunnel that focuses on her face.

"Uh huh." She squeaks a sound of agreement as I flex the hard muscle of my thigh as she rides it slippery, up and down, up and down.

"I do too. Just like this, look at me, Wren. Remember my face from all those years ago. I'm that same man, only now, you're rubbing your hard little clit against me because you need something only a father can give you, isn't that right?" Her cheeks blush pink and she darts her eyes to my throat. "Don't you look away. You stare at your father while you rub yourself on him. I know I'm the man you needed all along, you just needed to come to terms with that baby."

My cock throbs against her soft little belly and I hold her steady and let her use me and hate how good it feels to be needed like this. She continues her grinding, more fervent and desperate with each flex of her hips.

"That's my girl. Take what you need, baby." I press my lips to her forehead and bite back the urge to pull her onto my hard-on and relieve the tension she's twisted up inside me.

Her movements sharpen. Hips jerking, not rolling. She's chasing it. I press my thigh up into her knowing she needs something hard and the sound she makes is small and desperate and I knew a long time ago she was mine.

But now, I'll chain her to me if necessary. She's never getting away.

She comes with a curse and a slap to my chest and I give her one back on her ass, then another and her orgasm goes nuclear.

"Bad fucking daughter." I growl through clenched teeth, landing my open palm to her ass cheek as she soaks my leg.

Her breathing seizes. Every muscle convulsing as her thighs clamp tight around mine, her pussy pulsing wet and rhythmic against my skin. I hold her through it with my mouth in her hair, breathing in the scent of our sex and that damn shampoo and body wash she loves so fucking much.

"Good morning," I grunt against the side of her head when she finally starts to come down. "That's the way I like for you to wake up. Needy and grinding on Daddy."

She laughs and pulls back far enough to look at me.

She drags her thumb through two days of scruff. Her fingers trace up to my temple where my hair curls behind my ear.

"You have a mean face in the morning," she crinkles her nose, her breathing still fast paced as the rush of pleasure winds through her. "All jaw and hard brows tugging together. But your eyes aren't mean at all. You never scared me."

I turn my head and press my mouth to her palm. "I only look mean because I'm fucking horny baby."

She blinks, those long dark lashes framing innocent eyes and guilt punches me down low. "What are we doing, Grant?"

"Right now, I'm going to make you breakfast." I brush her bangs to the side and place a kiss on her nose. "After that, I want to shoot you."

"Shoot me?" She startles back.

"Photograph you." I catch her chin. Tilt her face into the thin morning light leaking past the blinds, watch it carve out her cheekbone, the slight bump on the bridge of her nose that any other photographer would retouch and I'd kill them for it. "I want to show you what you look like now that you're mine. Now that you've been fucked by the man you used to call Dad and now, you call Daddy."

Chapter 4

"Daddy likes to get you nice and clean, then make you dirty all over again."

She gives me that look over her shoulder, the shower hot as we step inside, water streaming down her face, and I'm inside her before she can mount any protest.

Hard. Harder than I should, considering what I've already put her pussy through, but she's pushing back into every thrust.

God, my daughter can fuck. I’ll never be the same.

I drop to my knees after dumping another bucket of cum inside her, pressing her thighs apart and lick into her slow and thorough while the hot water beats down on my shoulders. Shetangles her fingers in my wet hair and rides my mouth until her legs give out and I have to hold her up, her whole-body shuddering, this broken little cry bouncing off the tile that I'll be hearing in my sleep for weeks.

I bring her a bottle of water and two Advil. Set her down on the shower bench and angle the spray so it hits her where she's swollen and aching. "Sit here. Drink that. Come out when the throbbing settles."

She blinks up at me, steam curling around her face, looking thoroughly ruined and entirely too pleased about it. "Yes, Daddy."

I leave her in there, dry off, throw on a clean pair of jeans and a white button down which I don't button and head toward the home studio.

I'm setting up the tethering station when I catch my reflection ghosting across the black monitor. Dark hair shoved back, still damp, curling where it hits my collar.