Page 33 of Unthinkable

“Fuck, Immie,” he groans, and a thrill fires through me at the way I’m able to please him, but more importantly, at the way his eyes have become hooded, full of want, need, and hunger.

He moves his thumb in and out, encouraging me to suck it like a pacifier, and wetness gathers between my thighs. A moan escapes me, and he pulls his thumb from my mouth with a pop, and I deflate instantly. “I need it.”

“It’s okay, Little Nightmare.” He caresses my face, and I close my eyes. “If you need fed in the morning, I can save it all up for you. I can take care of you. But you have to be a good girl and let me.”

Holy shit.

My eyes shoot open, and I lock eyes with him. “Yes, please, Daddy.”

He swallows hard and casts Amanda a quick glance. “Good girl. But from now on, you have to follow my rules. Okay?”

I nod eagerly.

A sigh leaves him, and he glances over his shoulder toward Amanda. “Let me take you back to bed. I don’t like the thought of you being in here with her.”

The thoughts of leaving him so soon make my stomach clench. “Can you lay with me for a little while?”

“Of course.”

He climbs out of the bed, turning his back, and steps into his boxer shorts. Then he returns to the bed, slips his arms under my legs, and scoops me up against his bare chest.

I breathe him in as I curl my arms around his thick neck and smile.

I finally have my daddy right where I want him.

CHAPTER TWENTY

JENSEN

My heart pumps wildly as I wait for her to come downstairs.

Last night was like a perfect dream, or should it be my worst nightmare?

I crossed a line, a huge line, but my body is completely on board with it, and so is my mind. At some point, I lost the fucking plot. Thinking about fucking Immie while using my wife’s pussy is not good, and feeding your adopted daughter your cum while your wife sleeps next to you after fucking her, is well and truly screwed up.

It’s forbidden. Sordid. Downright ecstasy.

And I want more. So much fucking more.

The way Immie touched me as I buried my cock inside my wife is even more fucked up, and the fact I want her more than I’ve ever wanted anything before is absolutely, well and truly, fucked up.

My cock has been hard since I left Immie asleep in her bed last night, and part of me, the twisted part, wanted to come on her little lips so she could taste me in her sleep and remain there for the moment she wakes. To consume her like she does me.

I need to make sure she wasn’t in some sort of dream last night when she sucked on my thumb like it was her pacifier. My cock jumps, and I scrub a hand down my face.

Flipping the pancake, I glance at my watch. Immie will be down soon; she likes routine and structure as much as I do, and once again, my mind whirls with possibilities of a new routine I’d like to enforce to suit us both.

Starting with what she wears and when.

I sense her before she enters. I’ve always been so in tune with her presence, her wants and needs, but only now am I realizing those needs have changed, or have they simply progressed and I’m only now prepared to acknowledge them?

“Morning.” I lift my head, and she gives me a little wave while shifting from foot to foot. Her blue eyes search my face, and it takes everything in me not to pull her into me to calm her. Her tousled hair needs combed, and I long to brush it for her, care for her like I know she craves.

Instead, I point toward the barstool opposite me. “Take a seat, baby. I made you breakfast.”

Her shoulders relax, and a smile plays on her lips as she slides her ass onto the barstool. Her tits bounce through the fabric of her camisole, and I fight the urge to groan.

“Did you sleep well?” I cock an eyebrow at her as I slide her pancakes across the counter, then add a splash of the maple syrup I know she loves on top.