Page 27 of Filthy Mouth (Obsessive Age Gap #2)

Poppy

When he released my legs, I groaned at the ache in my muscles but clawed at his waist, wanting him inside me. He chuckled and lay on top of me.

“ My greedy girl,” he murmured, gently rocking his hips until I felt his come leak out. “ Don ’ t worry, I ’ m not leaving you empty.”

I shuddered at the mess spreading between my thighs, his cock still thick inside me, plugging me up. “ Daddy,” I whispered, half-delirious, “ don ’ t stop. I need you to keep it in me. Please.”

He grunted against my neck, grinding deeper, smearing his spend all over my walls until I whimpered from overstimulation. My body was sore, stretched, used—but still desperate for more. I loved the feel of him inside me.

Every push made me feel owned, branded from the inside out, and the thought sent a wicked little moan tumbling from my lips.

“ Give me a few minutes and I ’ ll fuck your arsehole. I ’ m going to miss fucking your nasty shithole,” he whispered wickedly in my ear, making me gasp. “ I ’ ll miss your filthy mouth swallowing it all up.”

I paused to reconsider my lust-crazed words. Nine entire months without filth? No, thanks.

“ Maybe I was hasty in wanting to get pregnant—I said it in the heat of the moment.”

He chuckled, and his body shook against mine.

“ We ’ ve got a lifetime together, Princess. One little baby that ’ s ours. You and me.”

I swallowed when I saw the tenderness in his eyes.

“ I love you, Princess. You're it for me. I love your fire, sass, filth and your sweet heart. Our child will be loved,” he said, lowering his lips to mine.

I clenched around his cock, gripping his damp back. His dick twitched inside me, as if it agreed with every word.

“ Say it again,” I whispered against his mouth, needy, breathless.

“ I love you, Poppy Sarah Blythe. My filthy, perfect Princess. The only woman I ’ ll ever say these words to.”

The sincerity hit harder than his thrusts, and I felt my chest tighten, my eyes sting.

God help me, I believed him. Even when he talked about fucking my arsehole after knocking me up.

Even when he promised to make me choke on his cock before breakfast. I believed him because under all that dirt, he gave me what no one else ever had—love that matched my filth.

He would love our child, unlike my weak father. Benedict had heart and soul.

“ I love you too, Daddy,” I choked out.

“ I know, Princess,” he whispered. “ I know.”

Of course he did. I sniffed, and Daddy pulled back to kiss my tears. His tongue slipped out, and his eyes lit up. When he began to lick my tears away, I couldn ’ t help but laugh and smack his back. We were fucked up compared to others, but I loved our filthy world.

A sudden thought occurred to me, but I’d circle back to it and run it past Daddy. I wanted my arse fucking before breakfast. Priorities were crucial.

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Four weeks later, I sat at my desk cackling as I flicked through the glossy magazine. The photographers had done a fantastic job. Every single picture portrayed us as a couple deeply in love. They ’ d made sure my ruby and diamond engagement ring was on full display.

Much to my surprise, Daddy hadn ’ t complained once about the endless outfit changes and countless poses in every corner of our home. He did love himself, though, but he ’ d had a long-standing relationship with himself long before I showed up pretending to be his hooker.

Benedict had loved my plan, even adding extra announcements in all the major national newspapers. I traced my finger over his face in one of the photos, soft and smiling as I sat on his lap in the library. Bad Daddy—he ’ d had the poor photographer blushing at one point.

Was I being a petty bitch, rubbing my happiness in my family ’ s faces?

Hell, yes. And I fucking loved it. Their barrage of calls, messages, and voicemails was hilarious.

It didn ’ t erase the years of damage, but as I looked toward the future, I realised they didn ’ t matter.

I would never allow them near our child.

My phone rang—a video call from Daddy.

“ Blythe escort services, how may I help you this afternoon, sir?”

Daddy chuckled, and I wondered how he’d feel about roleplaying.

“ If I wasn't due to go visit a site, I ’ d take you up on your offer.”

“ Don't be late for the grand opening tonight.”

Our room was ready and waiting to be broken in.

He scowled.

“ You kept me locked out for over a month; of course, I won ’ t be late.”

“ Uff. Grumpy much. Have a coffee or download that meditation app.”

Someone knocked on his door, and he gave me a sad little wave before we said our goodbyes. Our calls and messages helped us through the day until we were together again.

I still found myself wondering if it was real, or if I ’ d wake one morning to find it had all been a crazy dream. But my dreams could never conjure up someone as nasty as Daddy.

I checked the time and shut my laptop. Work could come home with me. The grand launch of the top floor was waiting—messy, filthy, and ours.

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The curtains were drawn tight, the main light switched off, leaving only the soft glow of the wall sconces.

The crimson and gold wallpaper gleamed like sin itself.

Every inch of the room was ready—the S-shaped sex sofa beneath me, the black swing swaying gently from the ceiling, the kneel stocks, the cross, the gleaming chains waiting in their niches.

The bed, wide and waiting, draped in a black canopy and a mattress I ’ d had made waterproof.

Even the floor beneath my ass gleamed, dark wood polished to perfection.

All of it screamed one thing: mine and Daddy ’ s playground.

My pulse thudded as I lay back against the curve of the crimson leather, naked, skin marked with the words I ’ d scrawled in red across my breasts and ass.

The scent of polish, leather, and something darker clung to the air.

My eyes flicked to the paddles and canes lined up like weapons, the posh drinks cabinet gleaming with glass and crystal—decadence married to degradation.

And then I heard him. Heavy, deliberate footsteps striking the wooden floor outside. My stomach flipped, nerves tangling with pure filthy thrill. He was coming. He had no idea what I ’ d done for him, what I ’ d built for us.

I dragged my hand down my belly, forcing myself not to squirm, to stay exactly as I ’ d planned: sprawled on the sofa like a whore offering herself up. The second his footsteps hit the room's flooring, he ’ d see it all—see me.

The handle clicked, and I froze, heart hammering in my throat. His footsteps hit the wood—sharp, measured, the sound of a predator stalking prey. I stayed exactly as I was, sprawled on the crimson curve, nipples hard and aching under the obscene words scrawled across my tits.

He stopped dead. I didn ’ t have to look at him to feel the weight of his stare dragging over the room, over me. The silence stretched, heavy and loaded, before he finally let out a low, dangerous chuckle.

“ Well, well, Princess…” His voice was rough silk, threaded with disbelief and hunger. “ What have you done?”

I tilted my head, finally meeting his eyes. He looked almost feral in the low light—dark gaze flicking from the canopy bed to the swing, to the built-in chains glittering on the walls, before snapping back to me. My lips curled.

“ Welcome home, Daddy.”

His jaw ticked, his chest rising and falling like he was trying not to lunge at me on the spot. He moved closer, slow, prowling, every step louder in my ears. I spread my thighs wider, dragging my fingers down my stomach to where my skin gleamed, hot and wet just for him.

“ Do you like your new floor?” I asked sweetly, though my voice shook with nerves.

He didn ’ t answer. His eyes were on the marker scrawled across my breasts, his cock already thickening in his trousers. I turned around to show him the writing on my arse. When his gaze dropped to the words sprawled over my ass, I thought I saw his control snap.

He walked closer, each step heavier, until his shadow swallowed me whole.

My eyes drank him in—navy Hugo Boss suit, crisp shirt, the kind of power that made my cunt throb just looking at him.

His hand brushed over my hip before sliding lower, fingers tracing the crude red letters across my ass cheeks.

“ My dirty little Princess has drawn instructions and directions,” he murmured, voice all velvet filth.

Heat raced up my neck as he pressed his thumb against the arrow I ’ d drawn, rubbing at the spot where it vanished between my cheeks.

“ Piss whore,” he read aloud, growling the words like they belonged to him already. My pussy clenched at the sound.

“ I love them,” he said darkly, before gripping me hard and flipping me onto my back like I weighed nothing. “And the room.”

His gaze dropped to my chest, where the words Daddy ’ s Slut were sprawled boldly across my skin. He crushed my tits together in both hands, squeezing until I gasped.

“ I can ’ t decide which one is my favourite,” he drawled, eyes gleaming. “ Daddy ’ s Slut…” he shoved my tits up to my mouth until my lips brushed the red marker-stained flesh. “…or Piss Whore.”

I moaned, biting my lip, the humiliation making me wetter than it should’ve.

“ You know where I want you first, don ’ t you?” he drawled, his thumbs swiping lazy circles over my nipples, tugging them taut until I arched.

I nodded, throat too tight to answer, but we both knew.

“ The kneeling stocks,” he said, smirking as his gaze burned through me. “ Our beginning. Where I turned my Princess into Daddy ’ s cocksleeve.”

My stomach flipped. My cunt clenched. He was taking me back to the epic skull fuck—the place I lost the last piece of shame I ’ d been clinging to.

“ Up,” he ordered, smacking the side of my tit until I scrambled, unsteady but desperate to obey.

He caught my jaw in his hand, forcing my head back until I had no choice but to stare into his black, hungry eyes.

“ On your knees, Princess. Mouth open. Daddy ’ s going to remind you exactly what you are.”

I walked across the room, staring at the kneeling pad before dropping to my knees.

Daddy removed his jacket and flung it on the sofa before following me.

He lifted the heavy wood, and I placed my hands and neck in place.

The padding around it made it very comfortable.

He clicked the latches in place, locking me in.

He moved back to look at me while tugging at his tie. It fell to the floor, and he reached for his zip.

“ Princess, that mouth could topple empires. But tonight you're going to be a good girl and let Daddy choke you with his cock.”

His zip hissed, the sound making my stomach twist with anticipation. He pulled himself free, thick and hard, stroking slowly as he prowled closer.

“ Look at you,” he rasped, circling me, his shoes clicking against the wooden floor. “ Bent, bound, locked up pretty just for me. My filthy little Princess, drooling before I ’ ve even fed you cock.”

I whimpered, shifting against the padding, but there was no escape, not with my neck caught tight in the stocks. He brushed the swollen head against my lips, smearing precum across them like gloss.

“ Open.”

I obeyed instantly.

“ That ’ s it. Good girl,” he growled, sliding over my tongue inch by inch. “ Empires would kill for this mouth, Princess. But all it does now is worship me. Gag. Choke. Swallow. That ’ s your legacy.”

He gripped my hair, holding me still as he pressed deeper, my throat spasming around the invading length. Saliva spilled down my chin, dripping to the floor, slick and obscene.

“ Perfect,” he groaned. “ Daddy ’ s throne. Daddy ’ s perfect whore. You ’ re going to wear my cock in your throat until your eyes stream and your tits are wet with spit.”

My throat ached each time Daddy battered me with his cock. He stretched my throat and neck before vanishing again, only to drive back harder, making lewd sounds as I struggled with his pace.

“ That ’ s it, choke on Daddy ’ s cock. My little cock sucking whore.”

My vision blurred as tears spilled over, my throat convulsing around him every time he forced himself deep. Drool poured down my chin, strings of spit clinging to my breasts as he set a savage rhythm, using my mouth like it was nothing more than his personal hole.

“ Yeah, choke, Princess,” he snarled, tugging my hair so I had no choice but to look up at him through watery lashes. “ Look at you—red-eyed, dripping, gagging on Daddy ’ s cock. The filthiest little slut in London.”

He thrust harder, balls slapping my chin, spit and precum splattering my chest. My lungs screamed for air, but my cunt throbbed, greedy and wet between my thighs, trapped and helpless in the stocks.

“ Fucking heaven,” he groaned. “ My cock buried in your throat, your spit running down my balls. You were made for this, Princess.”

He rubbed the soaked head across my cheeks, over my nose, across my lips, painting me in spit and salt. “ Look at you. A dripping mess, and you love it, don ’ t you?” he rasped, dragging his cock down to my chin and back up to smear it over my eyelids.

I moaned, tongue stretching out, desperate to catch whatever he fed me.

“ That ’ s it, Princess. Lick it up. Lap at Daddy ’ s cock like the little cock slut you are,” he growled, grinding the tip against my tongue until it dripped into my mouth.

His grip on my hair tightened, holding me exactly where he wanted me, his cock tapping against my swollen lips. “ Fuck, I could ruin this pretty face all night.”

He rubbed his hand all over my filthy, wet face.

“ God, I love it when you're a mess, Princess.”

I heard him unlatch the stocks, and he helped me to my feet.

“ Go bend over the sofa. I can't ignore your other holes, can I?”

When I reached the crimson couch, I lay over it, gripping the lower section but leaving my ass high and exposed. I heard him remove his clothes.

Belt buckle, shoes and sounds of rumpled clothing.

The leather was cool against my flushed skin, my chest pressed into the curve of the sofa as I lifted my arse higher for him. My thighs trembled, but it wasn ’ t nerves—it was anticipation.

“ Look at you,” he murmured, voice thick with approval as he prowled closer. “ Back arched, arse in the air, dripping and ready for me.”

I clenched the edge of the sofa, biting my lip when his hand came down hard on my cheek, the sharp crack making me jolt.

“ Piss whore, Daddy ’ s slut,” he drawled, tracing the words I ’ d scrawled on myself. “ You branded yourself for me, Princess. You think I can ignore that?”

“ No, Daddy,” I whispered into the leather.

He was about to give me what I craved.