Page 24 of Grace's Daddy

I flinch because it’s cold. And because it feels so strange.

I’m gripping my bent knees, but he puts his hands on the back of my thigh and presses so that my torso rocks back farther. He holds me in this position, my bottom so exposed, keeping me from moving.

The thermometer is small, but the moment it slides into me, I tip my head back and moan.

Eli adjusts it, moving it in and out, forcing me to feel everything. Finally he holds it steady inside me and lifts his head. “Look at me, Grace.”

I’m panting as I lower my gaze.

“Good girl. Do you know why I’m taking your temperature?”

I hesitate, trying to process his words. It’s not because I’m sick. It’s… It’s because I have this kinky fetish, and he knows it. My pussy is spread wide and pulsing. My arousal is dripping out of me. “Because it makes me horny,” I murmur.

He smiles. “That’s right. Such a smart girl.” Somehow he manages to steady the thermometer with his finger and reach his thumb up to stroke through my folds. Luckily he’s prepared forme to arch because he holds me down firmly. If he didn’t, I might get injured.

I whimper as he draws more and more wetness from my pussy. He doesn’t even penetrate me. He’s just stroking across the opening over and over, slowly, until I think I might scream.

“Eyes on mine, Baby girl.”

I blink. It’s hard to focus. His thumb is so distracting. He knows it. At the slowest snail’s pace ever, he eases his thumbpad upward until he finally covers my clit and presses down. “Come for me, sweet girl.”

I come so hard that my entire body convulses. My clit throbs against the pressure. My pussy grips at nothing, weeping with the need to have something inside.

The thermometer is gone. He removed it before I shattered. His middle finger is pressing against my tight hole. It’s like he’s holding me hostage between his thumb and finger. I’ll gladly be his hostage for the rest of my life.

Eli leans over me, his forehead coming to mine, his fingers still in the same place. “That’s my good girl. Take a deep breath.”

I try. It’s hard. I’m nearly hyperventilating from the experience. I’m overwhelmed with emotions. Part of me wants to wiggle free from his touch. It’s too much and not enough at the same time. I can’t, though. He’s holding me down, preventing me from escaping.

Though he’s not moving, the pressure is causing my orgasm to linger, pulses of it making me flinch every few seconds.

“Good girl,” he soothes again. “I want another one, Grace. Give Daddy another orgasm.” His thumb moves slightly over my clit, making me whimper. My fingers are sore from gripping my knees, helping him expose myself. I can’t let go, though. I want to obey him.

He strokes the puckered flesh around my tight butthole, not entering me, teasing just enough to make it known that he couldif he wanted to. Maybe he will push his finger into me. I don’t know. I don’t care. It should mortify me, but it doesn’t. This is Eli. He’s made it clear he intends to breach my bottom. Hell, he’s made it clear he won’t be the only one. If I go with him to Littleworld, strangers will explore my naughty hole, too.

The thought of a doctor I don’t know pushing something into my bottom while Eli watches makes my clit throb harder.

“Come, sweet girl. Now.”

I don’t know how he does that, but I come, the tremors of another release shaking the bed. As I float down from heaven, Eli removes his hand, releases my legs, and drops onto his elbows, straddling my head. He presses his body between my legs and kisses me with all the passion that matches the energy in the air.

His kiss is long and hard, and when he finally releases my lips, he nibbles a path to my ear. “Thank you, Grace. Thank you for trusting me enough to let me see you at your most vulnerable.”

I wrap my arms around his neck and hold him tightly. “Thankyou,” I whisper. It seems like I’m the one who should be grateful. He just took me to the moon.

When Eli pulls back, he drops a few more kisses on my lips before opening my nightstand. I watch him as he rummages around, not certain what he’s looking for but not interrupting him.

I don’t have secrets from him anymore. It’s like I’ve known him months instead of one day. Whatever he sees in there doesn’t matter. He can explore all he wants.

Eventually he holds up a tube of ointment. It’s unexpected, and I blush. “This was buried, Little one. You don’t put diaper cream on every night?”

“No, Sir,” I whisper. “Only when I get itchy.”

“You wouldn’t get itchy if you wore it every time. It protects your skin, Baby girl.” He squeezes a generous amount onto his fingers and then rubs it into my folds and all around my pussy.

I glance toward the bathroom. Usually I potty before I go to bed. I don’t lie down with the intention of wetting myself. I don’t always use the diapers. I just like the comfort of wearing them at night.

“What are you looking at, Little one?”