Page 53 of Daddies Dark Desires (Forbidden Fantasies)

“Fuck.”

Her moan this time has me tipping forward, activating the small speaker by her television.

“Don’t come until I say.”

My voice is rough, dark, and the way her eyes brighten as she looks into the camera as I stroke myself with more purpose over the fabric.

She nods.

Each view of her in that room is intoxicating. From behind, the sides, and the perfect angle in front of her.

I can see the bruises on her ass, handprints from Grant spanking her this morning. I doubt either of them know I got the entire show.

Squeezing my length in my hand, I’m mesmerized by the way her tits swing. They’re big without being cartoonish, teardrop shaped, and I bet they’d fit perfectly in my hand. In my mouth.

“Pinch your nipples.”

A shudder runs through her, mouth open on a groan before she shifts back, pussy lips perfectly splayed around the wood, as she cups herself in both hands.

Massaging her breasts for a few seconds before her fingers draw down to lock both nipples between her fingers.

She pinches hard, tugging as her hips gyrate. Back arching, she lets her head fall back for a second as she repeats the move.

Then, she plucks at them quickly a half dozen times.

Heat draws up my middle, and my hand is absently stroking my rigid length.

Her hips move a little faster, and I remind her, “Don’t come yet.”

Harper nods, releasing her nipples and slowing her movements.

“Hands on the desk.”

She obeys, leaning forward and framing her breasts between her elbows as they swing. Below them, she’s angled just right to show off the swell of her hips and the splaying of her pussy.

“Slower.”

Her whimpering moan as she slows has my cock jumping hard. I finally unzip and release it into my hand. This is what she wants.

What I want.

And I have no shame in letting us both have it.

“Shorter.”

She nods, and the movements of her hips shorten, small hard pumps that make her curves jiggle and jump. Her whines come at the same cadence.

The squelch of her pussy grinding against the wood is loud, unforgiving—each thrust dragging her swollen clit along the corner like she wants to bruise it. She is soaked. Deliberate. Putting on a fucking show.

My breath grows ragged, my cock twitches in my fist, aching with the need to join her, to feel that mess firsthand.

Without direction, her moves start to pick up speed, and the glazed look in her eyes says she’s building, getting closer. My own strokes match her cadence, squeezing up toward the tip.

Beating my own meat has never been something I particularly enjoy. A means to an end, yes. A relief of stress and pressure, sure. But this…

My hips start to move with hers as I tell her again. “Don’t come yet.”

Her teeth press into her bottom lip, and she slows again.