Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 66535 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66535 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
I prowl over to her, and her words die on her lips. I want to kiss those pretty pink lips and run my fingers through that delicate blonde hair, and kiss my way down her body until her toes curl.
“Hello, daddy,” she murmurs, sinking deeper into the pillows. I sit beside her on the bed and frame her face with my hands.
“Look at you,” I say, shaking my head. “All travel worn and tired you still look like an angel.”
She smiles at me, and her eyes flutter closed as I lower my mouth to kiss her. She tastes like scotch and sunshine, golden and warm and comforting, and my cock stirs with the memory of what she did on the plane.
I pull back and look at her.
“I’ve paid my fee in full, Miss Montague.”
She bites her lip and goes a bit shy. “You have, sir.”
I want her. I want to feel her hot, tight virgin cunt wrapped round my cock. I want my first time with her to be something she never, ever forgets.
I lean down and whisper in her ear. “Are you ready, baby?”
She nods. I place my hand on her arm, my thumb grazing her wrist. I can feel the rapid beating of her pulse.
“Don’t worry,” I whisper. “I’ll make sure it doesn’t hurt.”
“How can you do that?” she whispers back. “The first time always hurts.”
“Let me try. It might hurt for a short bit… but then I’ll make it better.”
She closes her eyes and nods, as if waiting for the executioner’s axe to fall.
I kiss her cheek, her chin, her shoulder, and she sighs. Soft, fluttering kisses like butterfly wings, but just being this close to her, my dick’s already hard and raring to go.
Down, boy.
I have to take it easy. I like to fuck hard and on my terms, but with Miranda, we’ll need to ease into that. I know she likes things kinky, though. I’ve seen how she reacts. I’ll use that to my advantage, since I know half of what it means to make love to a woman is to reach her mind. Speak to the mind, and the body will follow.
I lean in and whisper in her ear, as I draw gentle caresses across her breasts. “Daddy likes what daddy sees.” I nibble her earlobe, waiting for the arch in her back before I reach for her nipple and pinch. She gasps, then moans, as I lick the place I nibbled.
I lean down and grasp one of her nipples between my teeth, gently lapping until her hips jerk with want, then I pull her nipple fully in my mouth and suckle until she’s panting. I release first one nipple, then leave and suckle the next.
“Daddy,” she breathes. “Oh, God.”
“Hands above your head,” I whisper in her ear. “And if you move them or try to stop me, I’ll whip you.”
She gasps. “Whip?”
I nod soberly. “I’ll tie you to these posts and take my belt to your ass.” I run my finger along the top of her thigh. “Stripe it pink for your disobedience.”
She gives a little squeak. “That sounds… both scary and hot.”
I nod. “It is. So will you be daddy’s good little girl, or not?”
“Yes, daddy. Of course, daddy.”
I bend down and nibble her earlobe before I leave it again. “Or will daddy have to punish you?”
She shakes her head. “No, daddy.”
“Then do what daddy tells you, baby.”
Obediently, she raises her hands above her head, her eyes wide with curiosity.
“I want your first time to be good, baby,” I say. “So I want you good and wet and damn near begging for it when it’s time.”
She nods again. “Pretty much already there.”
I smile at her. “Good girl.”
I reach for my belt and unbuckle it, watching to make sure she obeys, half hoping she doesn’t. Her gaze grows wide as I slide the belt through the loops. “You are a curious little thing, aren’t you?”
She nods and bites her lip. “Mhm.” I secure her wrists and I’m just about to start kissing my way to turning her on when a wooden floorboard creaks outside the door.
“Miranda? Miranda?”
She gasps. “Oh my God. That’s my mother!”
I hold my finger up to my lips. “You stay right there. I’ve got this.”
I tug my t-shirt back on and sneak out of the room. Her mom is in the kitchen, her hand on the doorknob. She’s just about to turn it and let herself out. “Wait! Mrs. Montague.”
She turns back to me, looking around in confusion. Her brows knit together when she sees me standing there.
“Who are you?”
“Gabriel. We met earlier. I’m a friend of your daughter’s.”
She scowls at me. “Where’s my daughter?”
Tied to a bedpost, waiting to hand over her V-card.
“She’s asleep. It’s been a long day. Anything I can help you with?”
She nods. “I just came down for a glass of water.”