Golden tendrils of morning light pierced the curtains, dancing across Dad's tranquil face, painting a tableau of peace. I drank in the sight, the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the steady rhythm of his heart beneath my palm. The storm of last night had passed, leaving only calm in its wake.

Dad's eyes fluttered open, confusion dissolving into recognition as he focused on me. Last night's memories washed over him like a dark tide, guilt and shame casting long shadows across his features.

"Good morning, Daddy," I whispered, my lips brushing against his in a soft kiss.

"Morning, baby." His voice was a rough, sleep-laden growl. One hand reached up, fingers hovering gently over the spot where he'd struck me, his touch as light as a moth's wing. "How are you feeling?"

"Perfect," I assured him, turning to kiss his palm. "Everything's perfect now."

Relief flooded his face, but the shadows of guilt lingered, staining his expression like a bruise. "Jessie, about last night—"

"We don't need to talk about it," I interrupted, my body sliding against his. I could feel his desire stirring, hardening against my thigh, despite the mental anguish etched on his face. A smile played on my lips as my fingers trailed down his chest. "You agreed to my rules. That's all that matters."

Dad nodded, his hands settling at my waist. I could see the battle raging in his eyes—desire clashing with his determination to follow my rules, to be gentle, to be what I wanted. I leaned down, my breath warm on his ear.

"Do you want me, Daddy?" I asked, my voice a sweet, innocent melody.

"Always," he admitted, his eyes darkening with desire. "But after last night, maybe we should take it slow."

I pouted, pushing myself up to straddle him. His cock pressed against me through the thin fabric of my panties—the only thing I'd put on before falling asleep. "I don't want to take it slow," I said, rolling my hips against him. "I want my Daddy inside me."

His hands tightened on my waist, but he made no move to pull me down or push me away. I could see the conflict in his eyes, a storm of desire and restraint. I reached down, freeing his cock from his boxers.

"Rule number two," I reminded him, my voice a sultry purr. "You do exactly what I say in bed. No more, no less." I lifted my hips, positioning myself above him. "And right now, I'm saying I want you to fuck me."

I sank down on him slowly, taking his entire length in one fluid movement. A groan echoed through the room, a primal sound torn from his chest. I began to move, setting a pace that had us both panting, our breaths mingling in the air like a heated dance.

"That's it, Daddy," I encouraged, my hands braced on his chest. "Let me ride you. Let me show you how much I love having my father's cock inside me."

His hips bucked beneath me, matching my rhythm. His eyes never left my face, watching me with a mixture of adoration and hunger that made my insides clench with pleasure. This was what I wanted—my father, completely enthralled by me, worshipping me with his body.

"Tell me you love me," I demanded, increasing my pace. "Tell me you'll never leave me."

"I love you, Jessie," he gasped, his hands moving to cup my breasts. "I'll never leave you. Never."

I leaned down to kiss him, my hair falling around us like a curtain, cocooning us in our own world. "And you're mine? All mine?"

"All yours," he agreed, his voice breaking as I clenched around him. "Body and soul."

I sat up straight, throwing my head back as I rode him harder. The room filled with the sounds of our coupling—skin against skin, breathy moans, the wet sounds of his cock sliding in and out of me. I felt my climax building, a familiar pressure at my core, a storm on the horizon.

"I'm close, Daddy," I warned, my movements becoming more erratic. "So close."

Dad's fingers found my clit, circling it with practiced precision. "Come for me, baby," he urged. "Let me see you fall apart."

The first wave crashed over me like a powerful tsunami, sweeping away all thoughts and leaving only pure sensation in its wake. I cried out, my voice reverberating through the room with a fervor that paralleled the overwhelming surge within me. My body convulsed uncontrollably around him, every muscle tensing and releasing in a symphony of sensations. Waves of pleasure cascaded through me like an unrelenting tide, each more powerful and consuming than the last, leaving me breathless and awash in ecstasy. Dad watched in awe, his own release held at bay by sheer willpower, his body a taut, trembling bowstring.

As the last tremors subsided, I collapsed against his chest, breathing hard. "Your turn, Daddy," I whispered, kissing his neck. "Come inside me. Fill me up."

He needed no further encouragement. With a groan, he flipped us over, taking control for the first time since our new rules were established. I let him, curious to see how far he'd go. His thrusts were powerful but measured, each one driving deeper than the last. I wrapped my legs around his waist, lifting my ass to take him deeper. Controlling his speed with the pressure of my legs.

“Don’t rush it, Daddy,” I whispered. “It’s me. Jessie. Your baby girl. You’re fucking me, Daddy. You hard, raw cock is stuffed inside my hot, little pussy. Let me feel it, Daddy. Slow and hard. Break me deep with that cock.”

Dad moaned at my words, his hips slowing to a deliberate pace that made me feel every inch of him. His eyes never left mine as he withdrew almost completely before driving back in with exquisite control.

"That's it," I encouraged, my nails digging into his shoulders. "Just like that. Feel how wet I am for you. Only for you."

"So perfect," he gasped, his face contorting with the effort of maintaining his pace. "So fucking tight. My beautiful girl."

I reached up to touch his face, tracing the lines of concentration that furrowed his brow. "Tell me what you're feeling, Daddy. Tell me how it feels to be inside your daughter."

His rhythm faltered momentarily, my words striking that perfect chord of shame and desire that I knew would push him closer to the edge.

"It feels like heaven," he admitted, his voice strained. "Better than anything I've ever felt. So warm, so tight... God, Jessie, I never want to stop fucking you."

"Then don't," I whispered. "Come inside me. Fill me up and then lick me clean like a good daddy."

The reminder of our fourth rule sent a visible shudder through him, but his pace increased, his control slipping as his orgasm approached. I could feel him swelling inside me, throbbing against my walls.

"Look at me," I commanded, gripping his face between my hands. "I want to see your eyes when you come in your daughter's pussy. I want to see my father come inside me.”

His gaze locked with mine, vulnerable and intense. I saw the moment he surrendered, his pupils dilating as he plunged deep and held himself there, his cock pulsing as he emptied himself inside me. The warmth of his release spread through me, triggering another small orgasm that had me gasping and clinging to him.

"That's it, Daddy," I cooed, stroking his hair as he collapsed against me. "You filled me up so good."

We lay tangled together, catching our breath, his softening cock still nestled inside me. After a few moments, I shifted beneath him, nudging him gently.

"Remember your promise," I reminded him softly.

Dad's body tensed, but he nodded against my shoulder. Slowly, he withdrew from me, leaving a trail of his seed that trickled down between my thighs. He moved down my body, his movements hesitant but determined. I spread my legs wider, exposing myself to him.

"Clean me, Daddy," I said, my voice gentle but firm. "Show me how much you love me."

His eyes met mine one last time before he lowered his head between my thighs. The first touch of his tongue was tentative, a gentle lap against my swollen flesh. I gasped at the sensation, threading my fingers through his hair to guide him.

"That's it," I encouraged. "Taste us together. Isn't it good?"

His moan was a soft, wordless sigh, suspended in the space between acquiescence and surrender. Then, with a renewed sense of purpose, he devoted himself to his task. His tongue shoved deeper, probing, exploring, gathering the remnants the cum he put inside me. The sight of my father kneeling between my trembling legs, his tongue meticulously lapping at my most intimate flesh, sent a shiver of power coursing through my veins. It was a sensation almost as exhilarating as the physical pleasure that pulsed through me, a heady mix of dominance and ecstasy.

“Use your fingers, Daddy,” I panted. “Dig it all out. Don’t leave any cum inside your daughter. Eat all the evidence of how my daddy fucked my hot cunt.”

Dad's fingers slid inside me, curling to scoop out the mixture of our juices. I watched his throat work as he swallowed, his eyes closed in concentration or perhaps to hide his shame. Each time his fingers emerged glistening, he would dutifully clean them with his tongue before returning for more.

"Look at me while you do it," I commanded softly. "I want to see your eyes."

His gaze lifted to meet mine, revealing a complex storm of emotions—humiliation, desire, devotion, and something deeper that made my heart race. I cupped his cheek with my palm, offering a gentle smile of approval.

"Good Daddy," I praised. "You're being so good for me."

A visible shudder ran through him at my words, his cock twitching back to life despite his recent release. I filed that reaction away for future use—praise affected him deeply, perhaps even more than degradation.

When he'd finished his task, I pulled him up for a kiss, tasting the mingled flavors of our passion on his lips. "Was that so bad?" I whispered against his mouth.

"No," he admitted, his voice barely audible. "Nothing with you is bad, Jess."

I smiled, running my fingers through his hair. "We're going to be so happy together, Daddy. You'll see."

He nodded, resting his forehead against mine. "What do we do now?"

"Now?" I stretched languidly beneath him. Ran my hands up his back; my thighs against his. “Now we rest until we’re ready to fuck some more.”

Chapter 12

I traced lazy patterns on Dad's chest as he held me close, our bodies still entangled in the humid aftermath of what we'd just done. Sweat cooled and dried between our skin; my hair clung damply to my cheek, and the faint, unmistakable scent of sex hung in the room, thick as incense. The morning sun had climbed higher, casting warm golden rectangles across the rumpled sheets, gilding our limbs as if in ironic benediction. Even after everything, I wanted to laugh at how completely natural it felt to be wrapped in his arms, safe and triumphant.

His heart beat steady and relentless beneath my palm, like the ticking of some secret clock, each thump a reminder that I'd claimed another piece of him no one else would ever have. He twitched a little as my finger spiraled over his sternum, but he didn't flinch or pull away. Instead, his hand found the curl of my hip, holding me there possessively, as if I might slip away in the blink of an eye and leave him stranded in the aftershock of our shared sin. I wondered if he felt as changed as I did. If he sensed the tectonic shift in our reality, or if, for him, these long minutes of silence were just a temporary reprieve before the guilt came roaring back.

I studied his face, half-shadowed now by my own hair as I propped myself on his chest, my chin resting near his collarbone. He stared at the cracked ceiling, his eyes unreadable, but the set of his jaw and the faint pink flush along his neck told me he was not yet ready to let go of this moment. Neither was I. With every slow inhale, every exhale that stirred my bangs, I felt the boundary between us dissolve further. I could have lain there forever, drawing patterns on his skin, listening to the unsteady syncopation of our hearts in the hush of the quiet house.

My lips touched his shoulder, sucking at my father’s flesh, just because I could. His breath hitched, then resumed its measured pace. My leg slid over his thigh, my calf hooking behind him, pinning him to the mattress with a gentle insistence. It was a silent dare: Let someone try to separate us now. Let the universe attempt to unmake what had just been forged.

He finally shifted beneath me, his hand rising to stroke my back in long, soothing arcs. For the first time, his gaze flicked down to meet mine. The intensity there had changed. It was no longer the wild, desperate hunger of moments earlier, but something stripped bare. Something almost reverent.

I couldn't help but smile. In the span of a single morning, I'd become the center of his gravity, the secret sun that would warm and torment him for the rest of his life. That knowledge filled me with a golden, dangerous pride.

He cleared his throat, the sound oddly fragile in the sunlight. I could sense the return of the world pressing against us. Responsibility. Routine. The distant ticking of the clock in the hallway. But in this sliver of eternity, I was content to just be.

"We should probably get up soon," he murmured, though his arms tightened around me as if reluctant to let go.

"Should we?" I asked, nuzzling against his throat. "Says who?"

Dad chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest. "Well, for one thing, we both have jobs. People will expect us to show up."

I propped myself up on one elbow to look down at him. "Call in sick. I want to spend the whole day in bed with you."

"Jessie, we can't just—"

"We can do whatever we want," I interrupted, my finger tracing the line of his jaw. "That's the point, Daddy. You're free now. Free from her, free from all those stupid expectations." I leaned down to brush my lips against his. "Free to focus on what really matters."

His eyes searched mine, and I could see the moment he wavered. The responsible father and employee warred with the man who'd just discovered a paradise he never knew existed. A man who had always given love, but never felt loved in return.

"What really matters?" he asked softly.

"Me," I said simply. "Making me happy. Taking care of my needs." I rolled my hips against him, feeling his cock stir with renewed interest. "Fucking me whenever I want."

His breath caught, and I felt his hands grip my waist tighter. The flush crept back across his chest, spreading like spilled wine. He was torn between shame and desire, lost and vulnerable at the intersection of everything he’d always wanted with the one woman he’d never wanted it with. It was exactly where I wanted him.

"You can't say things like that," he whispered, but his body betrayed him, responding to my words and touch despite his protests.

"Why not? It's true." I shifted slightly, watching his face contort with the conflicting emotions. "You know it is. You've never felt anything like this before, have you? With her?"

He closed his eyes, turning his head to the side as if he could escape the truth of it. But I wouldn't let him retreat. Not now.

"Look at me, Daddy." My voice was soft but commanding. When he didn't comply, I took his chin in my fingers and guided his gaze back to mine. "Look at me and tell me I'm wrong."

For a moment, neither of us moved. The room seemed to shrink around our naked bodies, trapping us in a cocoon woven from secrets, sweat, and the sated ache of our forbidden appetites. The sheets tangled around my hips as I straddled him, and I could feel the fine tremors that pulsed through his frame, like aftershocks rippling outward from the epicenter we’d created. I watched the flicker of his eyes as he fought to hold my gaze. His stare was defiant and hungry, but there was fear in it too, as if every second that passed threatened to shatter the fragile illusion that we could go on like this forever.

He licked his lips, the tip of his tongue darting over them unconsciously, as if he might taste the words before daring to speak them aloud. I pressed my palm flat over his heart, counting the small, anxious bursts that replaced his easy calm. Each beat reassured me: he was just as scared, just as exhilarated, just as altered by this as I was. I leaned closer, my hair falling in a curtain between us, and let my breath warm his cheek. His hand slid up my spine and paused at the nape of my neck, not quite sure whether to pull me into him or push me away.

My need for reassurance bordered on cruelty; I wanted him to say it, to confirm the power that now bound us together. But I also wanted to see how long he could last before capitulating, how much of himself he would give before the weight of his own longing crushed the boundaries he’d spent a lifetime erecting. I shifted my hips ever so slightly, and the gasp that escaped him was raw and involuntary. For a split second, his mask slipped, and I glimpsed the terrified man beneath. The one who’d woken in the arms of his daughter and realized he would never be content to let her go.

I drew my mouth close to his ear, every word a deliberate caress. "If I'm wrong," I whispered, "say so. Tell me you don't want this. Tell me you haven't thought about it every minute since last night." I nipped at his earlobe, savoring the tremble that ran through him. "Tell me you want to stop."

The silence that followed was pitiless—an executioner’s drumbeat, pounding away all pretense. His throat bobbed as he swallowed; his hands trembled where they gripped me. I watched the war rage across his face, duty and desire locked in mortal combat. In the end, it wasn’t even close.

"You're not wrong," he finally admitted, the words barely audible. "God help me, you're not wrong."

"Then stop fighting it." I leaned down until our foreheads touched, my voice dropping to a whisper. "Stop fighting me."

“It isn’t that easy, Jesse,” Dad whispered. “You know what people would say if they found out. What your mother would say. Nothing good can come of what we’ve started.”

“You’re wrong,” I insisted. I slithered across his hips and sat astride him. Stared into his eyes as my breasts rested against his chest. “Something very good has come of it. You and I, right here, right now.”

“It can’t last!” Dad’s voice was desperate. Scared. “Jesse. This will destroy us all.”

I was losing him. Everything I struggled to have was crumbling. I swallowed, holding tight to the fear that filled my heart. Dad was in the palm of my hand, and if I squeezed too tightly, I’d crush him. I had to pry open my fingers and let him decide he wanted to stay with me.

“You’re right,” I said, casting my eyes down. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I was just being selfish. I just…” I sat up, pinning Dad’s cock against the swollen lips of my pussy. Ground against him and made it look like I was just adjusting myself to sit comfortably. “I’m sorry. I know you’re right. I just want my Daddy to love me.” I didn’t exactly fake the sob that caught in my throat. “I’ve wanted this for so long, Daddy. And it’s so beautiful. I feel pretty and I feel loved and…” I covered my face with my hands, knowing he’d think I was crying. “It’s okay. You got to come inside me. You can be done with me now.”

“No, Jesse. No, honey. It isn’t like that.” I felt Dad's hand on my bare back, stroking my skin in a soothing motion. “It’s not like that at all,” he repeated. “This... what we have... it’s special. I’ve never felt this way about anyone else, not even your mom.” His voice cracked, and I knew I had him exactly where I wanted him.

I showed him my face, wiping away the nonexistent tears from my eyes. “Really, Daddy?”

“Really, baby girl.” He smiled at me, but it was tinged with sadness. “But that doesn’t change the fact that it’s wrong. People wouldn’t understand. They’d hurt us if they found out.”

I bit my lower lip, feigning indecision. “I... I know. I just... I don’t want to lose this. We love each other. That isn’t wrong, Daddy. It isn’t.”

Dad pulled me close, wrapping his strong arms around me. “You’re not going to lose me, Jessie. I’m here to stay. I’ll always be your father, no matter what. But...” His grip tightened. “We... we have to be careful. We can’t let anyone find out about this.”

I nodded against his chest, inhaling his familiar scent. “I understand, Daddy. I promise I can be careful.”

He kissed the top of my head. “I know you can, honey. And I... God help me... I don’t want this to end either. But we have to be smart, okay?”

“Okay,” I whispered. Finally, I had him right where I wanted him. Dad was mine, body and soul, and no one would ever tear us apart again.

We lay there for a while longer, simply holding each other. I savored the feel of his skin on mine, etching it into my memory. This was my new normal now, and I vowed to do whatever it took to keep it that way.

After a while, Dad spoke again. “We should probably get up. Longer we stay here, the more questions they’ll ask.”

“Not yet,” I whispered, grinning at him. I bit my lower lip like I’d just stolen a piece of candy. “I want to suck my father’s cock.” My lips found his. I whimpered against his mouth. “Please, Daddy. Say that I can suck your cock.”

"Jessie..." His voice came out strangled, a breathless plea that could have been protest or permission. I felt his cock pulse against me, already responding before his mind had fully processed my words.

"Please, Daddy," I repeated, letting my voice take on that breathy, innocent quality that I knew drove him wild. "I've been thinking about it all morning. About how you taste, how you feel in my mouth." I traced my fingertip along his jaw, watching his resolve crumble. "I want to wake you up the way you deserve." I gave a suggestive chuckle. “I want to eat my breakfast straight from your cock.” Just in case there was any doubt, I met his gaze and whispered, “I want you to come in my mouth, Daddy. I want to eat your cum.”

Daddy’s hands trembled as he stroked my back. His eyes fluttered closed, and I could practically see the last vestiges of his resistance dissolving. When he opened them again, they were dark with renewed hunger.

"You're going to be the death of me," he whispered, but his hands were already moving to tangle in my hair.

I smiled against his throat, pressing soft kisses along his pulse point. "What a way to go, though."

I began my descent slowly, savoring the anticipation that shuddered through him with every inch my lips traveled. I let my tongue linger over the plane of his chest, mapping the path with small, wet kisses and the delicate scrape of my teeth. Dad’s breathing pitched higher, uneven, the trembling in his hands betraying the war still being waged within his mind. He wanted to resist, to do the right thing, but I knew the truth: he would let me devour him if I wished, and he would thank me for it afterward.

At the hollow of his throat, I paused, letting my mouth hover close enough that he could feel the heat of my words but not quite hear them. I whispered, "So good, Daddy," soft enough to be mistaken for the wind, but loud enough that he shivered. I tasted the salt from his skin, the bitter aftertaste of his earlier orgasm, and the iron tang of sweat. I wanted to bathe in every part of him, to transform the shame he felt into something sacred.

I continued downward, brushing my lips over the fluttering pulse at the base of his neck. His hands tangled in the sheets, knuckles whitening, but he made no move to stop me. I flicked my tongue over his collarbone, then blew lightly to watch goosebumps rise in my wake. My hands, never idle, caressed the rigid lines of his torso, palms sliding across new territory as if I could learn the entire geography of him just by touch.

When I reached his nipples, I slowed my pace even further, circling one with the flat of my tongue. He gasped and arched into me, the motion involuntary. I swirled my tongue around the sensitive tip, then grazed it gently with my teeth. A moan escaped him, low and needy, vibrating through the cage of his chest. I smiled against his skin, feeling a thrill at the evidence of his unraveling.

I lavished the same attention on the other nipple, taking my time, alternating between licking, sucking, and nibbling until both were hard and glistening. He rasped my name, and I traced the sound with my lips down the centerline of his body, dipping my tongue into the shallow groove between two flexed abdominals. Every movement felt deliberate, a worshipful act. Each time his body trembled or bucked, I slowed further, dragging out the moment, letting desire curdle in the air around us.

Just above his navel, I lifted my eyes to meet his. Dad stared down at me, face flushed, his eyes wild and dark with hunger. The look was a mixture of terror, disbelief, and something heartbreakingly like hope. He reached for my hair, hesitated, then let his hand rest on my crown as if blessing me. I kissed his stomach, biting softly just below the line of his ribs, and felt his entire body clench beneath me.

When I reached his navel, I dipped my tongue inside, then licked a slow, wet path further down. Precum glistened at the tip of his cock, which was already hard and angled aggressively toward my mouth. I let my breath ghost over him, watching the way his body reacted, how his legs tensed and his stomach quivered. I dragged my hair across his hips, tickling him, then nuzzled my cheek against the thick, veined length of his shaft.

I spent a moment just admiring him, feeling the heat and the weight of him, inhaling the scent that was uniquely ours—sweat, sex, and something ineffably paternal. I wrapped my fingers around the base, feeling how he throbbed in my grip, and pressed a line of kisses up the length, from root to tip. Every time my lips met his flesh, he made a different sound: a gasp, a whimper, a wordless plea.

My tongue circled the head of Daddy’s cock, gathering the bead of fluid and savoring it like nectar. I darted my tongue into the slit, then licked slow, concentric rings around the crown while my fingers stroked him in time with his quickening breath. I looked up at him through my lashes, never breaking eye contact.

“My beautiful Daddy,” I murmured, and took him into my mouth.

Daddy’s cock was heavy on my tongue, hot and swollen and pulsing with the heartbeat I’d claimed as my own. I closed my lips around the head, letting my mouth fill with his taste, then slowly slid down, inch by inch, until he pressed against the back of my throat. I could feel him shudder, could sense his need warring with the guilt in his eyes, and I loved that I could make him feel both at once, that I could be the fulcrum on which he teetered between heaven and damnation.

I let my tongue swirl along the underside of his shaft as I pulled back, keeping my lips sealed so he wouldn’t slip free. The friction made him groan, a low desperate sound that vibrated from his chest into my own. I wanted to swallow him whole, to hollow myself out and become the vessel for his need, but I also wanted to draw it out, to watch him break down for me, to watch his control wither in the furnace of my mouth. I pumped him with one hand, twisting my wrist in gentle, deliberate motions, the other hand cupping his balls, rolling them between my fingers with the kind of care that made men whimper and weep.

His cock slid past my lips with a wet slurp, a fine thread of saliva still connecting us. I grinned up at him, chin slick, and asked, “Does it feel good, Daddy? Does your little girl suck cock the way you like?” I planted a soft, dainty kiss on the tip, then licked the bead of pre-cum that gathered there, savoring the salty-bitter taste. “Tell me how much you want it,” I whispered, voice thick with honey and challenge. “Tell me you want to fuck your daughter’s mouth.”

He was already so far gone, his head thrown back against the pillow, chest rising and falling in ragged bursts. I could see his knuckles white from clutching the sheets, his hips barely restrained from thrusting up into my face. My question broke something loose in him. “I want it, Jessie,” he gasped. “God, I want it more than anything. You’re perfect. You’re beautiful. You’re my perfect, beautiful girl.”

I laughed, a dark, delighted sound, and took him back between my lips. This time, I went faster. My hand squeezed tighter on the base, stroking him in perfect rhythm with the bob and twist of my mouth. Each time I bottomed out, I let my nose brush the coarse hair at his groin, inhaling the musky scent of him, Daddy in the wild, the way it filled my lungs and made my own cunt clench with need. I moaned around him, letting the vibration carry up his cock and into the marrow of his bones. I wanted to make him forget everything, the world, the years, the taboos, until there was only the two of us locked together in this impossible, perfect now.

He tried to hold back. I could see it in the way he gritted his teeth, in the iron flex of his thighs, but every time I looked up at him with those big, pleading eyes, he lost another piece of himself. I let him see me drool, let it spill over my lips and run down his shaft, made a mess so beautiful he couldn’t help but watch. I spat on his cock, let it mix with my saliva and his, and used both hands to stroke, twist, squeeze while my mouth devoured the crown.

“Am I a pretty girl?” I asked, pausing to gasp for air, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand but leaving the slick behind as a badge of pride. “Am I Daddy’s pretty little cocksucker?”

He couldn’t speak. For a moment, all he could do was whimper, the sound urgent and helpless, until finally he managed, “You’re so pretty. You’re my dirty girl. My perfect, dirty girl.” He sounded almost scared by how much he meant it.

“That’s right,” I purred, licking up the length, tracing every vein with the tip of my tongue. “Your pretty girl. Your Jessie.” His cock twitched at that, and I grinned. “I want to be the only mouth you ever think about. I want you to come just for me. Can you do that, Daddy? Can you make a mess in your baby’s mouth?” I nuzzled the crown, let my lips part for just a second to breathe the words, “I need it. Please, Daddy, give me your cum.”

He was trembling now, his whole body caught in the tension of the moment, but I could feel his will slipping, could feel him teetering right at the edge. I gave him one last, long lick from base to tip, then let my lips linger, kissing the head as if it were the most precious thing I’d ever held. I looked him in the eye, wanting him to see everything: the hunger, the devotion, the absolute surrender.

Then I took him deep, all the way, and didn’t stop. I worked him with my throat, swallowing around the head, letting him feel every spasm and contraction. I kept my eyes on his, never breaking contact, making sure he saw exactly what he was doing to me. Let him hear me gag softly. The gasping retch as my throat rebelled. Pulled up, panting, spit running down my chin as I fought for breath, staring at my father as his cock throbbed for more.

I almost laughed at his desperate moan. I had no intention of making this quick. Dad needed to earn the privilege of coming in his daughter’s mouth, and he’d do that by begging and saying every sexy, filthy thing I could imagine.

“Tell me what you want,” I whispered. “Say it, Daddy. Show me you love me when I’m a dirty girl.” I jerked his cock rapidly, pulling him back to a jagged edge of need. "Go ahead, Daddy," I breathed, my voice a sultry whisper that coiled around his senses like smoke. "Tell me you love it when I'm a naughty girl."

My father's eyes widened, a storm of conflicting emotions swirling in their depths. But in that moment, the fire inside him won out. His hands gripped the sheets, knuckles white as he submitted to the forbidden pull of our twisted desire.

"I love it," he groaned, his voice hoarse with need and disbelief. "I love it when my little slutty girl sucks Daddy's cock."

Emboldened by his admission, I plunged back down ...