Page 98 of My Big Fat Daddy Issues

His tongue pushes inside me, then flat and wide over my clit, then pointed and precise on the spot that makes the world seem to spin faster. He works me with his mouth the way he works everything — patient, relentless, unrushed.

His hands are full of me with one gripping the back of my thigh, the other spread across my stomach, pinning me to the door. And when he pulls his mouth off my cunt, it's to drag it sideways across the crease of my hip. He opens his mouth against the tender skin there and bites down.

He sinks his teeth in until a sharp burst of pain tells me he's broken skin.

I screech and kick and he growls against the hot spot where he bit down. The vibration rolls through my hip and straight into my clit. He laps at the bite and the floor feels like it's shifting under my bare feet. Then he drags his mouth back to my pussy with my blood on his lips and goes back to eating me with hunger that borders on violence.

I'm going to come. I can feel it building at the base of my spine, gathering like the storm that's still pounding my roof.

"Please, I don't want to come, Pawpaw. Not like this. Not with you. Why are you doing this?"

"Because I love you and this is how I show it now. I've waited. I've waited a long time and it's time. You owe this to me and you know it, don't you? You've always touched me and hugged me too long and given me all those little signs this is what you want. Now, you're getting it so be good and come for your Pawpaw and thank me like a good girl when you do."

He seals his mouth over my clit and pushes two thick fingers inside me and I convulse. I come so hard a raw, ugly sound drags out of my throat and my legs turn to cooked noodles and only his shoulder under my thigh keeps me standing.

I can't stop any of it, the pleasure and the shame and the gut-deep wrongness of coming on my Pawpaw's tongue while his fingers are buried in my pussy.

He doesn't stop. He works me through every pulse and aftershock until I'm shaking and begging and only then does he let my leg slide off his shoulder and steadies me against the door as he pushes to his feet.

My legs are water. I'm a mess of tears, snot, rain, mud. I feel like I've been taken apart and put back together upside down.

He cradles my jaw in one rough hand. Tilts my face up so I have to look at him. And the expression on his wet face is tender and savage at the same time. Like he loves me and wants to hurt me and sees no contradiction between the two.

"That's a big girl. Showing me that your little body is ready for the things I'm going to do to it," he whispers, and his thumb swipes a tear off my cheekbone.

Then his hand drops to his belt.

Clink, pop, then the distinct sound of a zipper.

He pulls his cock out and there's no words for what I see. Lightning flashes showing off the thick, veined shaft, the girth mimicking my forearm.

The deep, purple head is slick and looks like it's ready to pop. He's enormous. He strokes himself once, base to tip, and a fresh bead of fluid wells at the tip and drips to the floor.

"On your knees." He snaps his tongue in his cheek and my legs fold.

My knees knock against the hardwood as I steady myself, relentless tears now burning rivers down my cheeks. The weight of his hand presses on the back of my head, then fingers tangle in, fisting my hair, tilting my face up.

"Open that mouth. I'm gonna fuck all the doubt about what's gonna happen tonight right out of that pretty head of yours."

The spongy tip spreads my lips, a tang of the liquid lighting up my tongue as he takes my mouth without asking.

He feeds his cock in and my jaw muscles stretch. The first thrust fills my mouth and I press my tongue flat on the underside.

The skin is silky smooth, but underneath is angry stone and I don't know how I'm going to get through this or what my life will be like when he's done with me.

He feeds me more, more, until the head hits the back of my throat and I gag, feeling like my stomach is coming up my esophagus.

"Relax your throat. You need to learn how to make Pawpaw feel good, baby. You did all that teasing, even tonight when I hugged you, you pressed yourself against me like a bad, teasing little slut. Now, you learn what that means and do it right."

He drives forward and I choke with a violent, convulsive retch.

"Fuck," he hisses through his teeth. "Look up here. I want to see those pretty eyes. That's it."

He doesn't ease up. He pushes deeper and I gag again and again, my throat spasming around him, spit flooding my mouth and spilling over my bottom lip.

My hands find the hard muscles of his thighs under damp denim and I dig my nails in, not sure if I'm bracing myself or giving in.

He rocks. Cursing, slow at first, withdrawing until just the tip rests on my tongue before pushing back in until my nose is pressed to the coarse hair below his belt and I can't breathe. He holds me there — one second, two, three — and my vision swims before he pulls back, unplugs my windpipe for a second so I suck in air through my nose.