Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 135(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 135(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
Pinpricks from head to toe, my vision coated in sparkles.
Daddy.
The rightness of that term, in reference to this man, locks into place and I feel like all my confusing emotions and near-hostile attraction to Pierce start to make sense.
“I’m sorry about my wet cunt, Daddy,” I murmur, excitement racing over my scalp.
Choking, he fists the flesh of my ass in a shaking hand, then delivers the first blow. SLAP. And his ragged, subsequent exhale makes me think of stabilizers falling away from a rocket ship as it launches. Spanking me embodies relief for him. The Daddy role feels right to him, too, and if I had any doubts, the pulsing, rigid bulge against my stomach would clear them right up. “Oh God. I shouldn’t be laying my goddamn hands on you.”
“I love your hands on me,” I manage shakily, arching my back to angle my backside higher. “However I can get them there. Soft. Rough. I’ll love it all.”
Pierce takes a cheek in each oversized palm, hesitating, before drawing them apart. Moaning. Parting them more and more until I can feel the air conditioning against that puckered part of me. His reverent breath, too. “Son of a bitch. Can’t believe that tight little thing was sitting in my lap earlier, scooting all over my cock.” I sense him tilting his head, his exhale coming out uneven. “Your pussy made you wet all the way back here. Fuck.”
His palms cracks down against my buttocks, and I whimper, tears of pleasure blurring my vision, the moisture tracking down my cheeks, dripping off my chin, my open lips. I’m lying across President McAlister’s lap and he’s spanking me. Repeatedly. He drops his hand like a judge with a gavel, his breath growing increasingly dense, my sex leaking down the insides of my thighs, onto his pant legs. Out of my control. Out of my mind. I’m out of my skin and yet I’ve never been more at home inside of it, receiving the president’s love blows, followed by soothing rubs of his hand, crooned words of praise for having such a fuckable little asshole and letting him spread my cheeks. Redden them.
“I can’t stop,” he says raggedly, slapping my bottom. “I need to stop.”
“No!”
“Yes, angel. Stop me or you won’t sit down for a week.”
I don’t know what comes over me, I just act on instinct, crawling backwards and fumbling with the gold buckle of his belt, ripping the leather free through the loops, and sucking him through his pants. Sucking and moaning and fondling the president’s steely erection through his dress pants, my mouth watering as I lower the zipper and stuff his big, bare shaft between my lips, suckling and whining over the salty taste, his fingers twisting desperately in my hair, his stomach hollowing at the pleasure, his grunts animalistic, his hips thrusting up, up, up, fucking my mouth with his enormously thick flesh.
“Oh God. Oh fuck.” He drives to my throat and holds, holds, pulling out when I start to choke, his throat muscles straining with a shout. “A little more, just like that, and Daddy’s going to come down your little fucking throat.”
I squeal into his next deep throat drive, a spasm rippling through my sex, a response to his pleasure. The pleasure I’m giving him. He’s already so big and powerful, but right now, he’s a god in the back of this SUV. I’m the one who has been appointed with his gratification and the responsibility has heightened my state of being. I’m a blur. I’m the embodiment of bliss, my purpose to suck as hard and as deeply as I can.
I’m easing the president’s needs. For the sake of the country. Democracy.
“Flash me some asshole and get your throat ready,” he slurs, holding my face to his lap and grinding upward while I sob over the perfect slide of smooth against my tonsils, the jerk of his inches, his hoarse curses and calls of my name. “There it is,” he says when I widen my thighs, tilt my hips to give him the view he requested. “Begging for a man to take charge of it. Spit on it, spoil it and come in it, huh, Eloise?” He shudders. “Jesus, I’m finished. Motherfucker!”
He spills along with the next draw of my mouth, his tall frame tensing, then shaking, his groans loud in the interior of the SUV. I widen my lips as far as they’ll go and tamp down on my gag reflex, housing him inside my mouth, all the way to his balls, his thighs flexing and jerking beneath me, damp saltiness pouring down my throat and I swallow eagerly, my knees slipping in the mess I made on the seat as I try to scramble closer, not wanting a single drop of him to escape me.