warning as he set a rough rhythm. Riding me hard, his abdomen pressed my cock into my stomach, rubbing it with every one of his strokes. Worked both inside and out, I couldn’t contain my pleasure. Every time he bottomed out inside of me, he dragged a moan from my throat.
“Harder, Daddy, please,” I begged, half out of my mind.
Harder and faster, he fucked me into the mattress, the springs starting to protest his punishing rhythm. It was all too much. His strong arms holding me in place. The restrictive feel of his body pinning mine down. His fat cock sinking into me, stretching me to my limits. His grunts and moans as he fucked into me were headier than any aphrodisiac.
“Daddy,” I said, digging my nails into his flesh. “I close, so close.”
“That’s it, baby. Come for Daddy.” His voice was so harsh, and it did things low in my belly.
Instead of slowing down, as I half expected, he sped up, pounding into me, squeezing my cock between our bodies. Unable to control myself, I cried out and tensed as my body erupted. Daddy slowed down, his cock dragging out my pleasure as I came against my stomach.
As soon as my body calmed down, he sped back up, chasing his own orgasm. Loving the feel of him using me, I clamped down on him, willing him to lose control.
“Daddy,” I said into his ear, knowing how much it would drive him crazy. “I want to feel your cum inside of me. I want to feel you dripping out of me, marking me as yours. Please, Daddy.”
That did it. He slammed into me, his body going rigid as I felt the first pulsating jets of his cum heating me up from the inside. I wondered if I’d have bruises where his hands clamped down on my thighs, the idea of having his marks almost enough to get me off again.
Collapsing to my side, he pulled out of me slowly, the pleasure no longer blinding me to the pain. Pulling me into his arms, he held me as we slowly came down from the high together.
“Are you okay?” he whispered, his voice quiet and drowsy.
“It was just what I needed,” I replied, reassuring him that I’d enjoyed every moment.
He lifted his hand and brushed his thumb against my bottom lip. “My boy has a bit of a potty mouth on him.”
Resting my head on his shoulder with a smile, I trailed my hand through the hair on his chest. Moving to his arm, I traced the four little semi-circular scars that formed a line on his bicep.
“What happened here?” I asked, my curiosity getting the best of me.
He lifted his head and looked at his arm before dropping back down. “Bike chain. I got a bike for Christmas one year and thought I was going to be the next big name in BMX. I was doing some stupid trick, crashed, and my arm got caught in the chain.”
I pushed up from the bed and pressed my lips to his old booboo.
Sliding my hand up his arm, my fingers found a small indent in his shoulder. I traced the tight circle.
“And this?”
He didn’t need to look. “That’s where I got shot.”
“What?” I leaned in closer and studied the circle, finally seeing the scar tissue.
Carson’s fingers tangled with mine as he touched it too. “Yeah. It was supposed to have been a routine op, but someone knew we were coming.”
I knew the topic of his time in the army made him uncomfortable, so I didn’t push for more information. He would tell me about it when he was ready and if he wanted to, just as I would tell him more about my own past when the time was right.
Brushing his hand aside, I pressed a kiss to it, so grateful that he was here, never wanting to know just how close I had come to never having had him.
Kisses always made everything better, right?
Carson seemed to think so.
“Thank you, little darling,” he said, brushing my hair back. “You ready to get up?”
I groaned and rolled back in bed, the idea of getting out of bed not sounding like a good one.
Carson got out of bed and grabbed my arm. “Come on,” he said, tugging at me. “Let’s take a shower, and then I’ll make us breakfast.”
“Together?” I sat up quickly, much to his amusement.
“Yes,” he replied, pulling me from the bed with no resistance. “Together.”