Still shaking..
Still soaking.
Still ruined.
But already his.
The second I got into the cab, I knew I was f****d. Like, not metaphorically, not in a dramatic I’m–so–in–trouble way. I mean fucked.. The moment my ass hit that seat and the door shut, I swear to God my cunt cried out in despair because it needed d**k and all it had was faux leather and sinful thoughts.
The driver glanced back at me through the rearview mirror and I smiled like the innocent little angel I absolutely was not, because if he could hear even one of the thoughts bouncing around my horny teenage brain, he’d either call the police or ask for my number.
I tried. I tried to calm down. I tried breathing. I tried thinking about algebra or dead fish or that one time I saw
but none of it worked. None of it. my grandma’s boobs by accident
–
5/8
The Penthouse
Every time I closed my eyes, all I saw was Damon’s c**k. Huge. Hard. Angry. Leaking. And right next to it, my f*****g name. Mine. Lyra. Written in that cocky, dominant scrawl like he was branding me without even
touching me.
And then the buzzing started. My phone lit up like a Christmas tree on coke.
Tasha.
Of course.
Decline.
She called again.
Decline.
Again.
Decline.
“God, stop f*****g calling me!” I hissed under my breath, clicking block so fast I almost broke the screen. Because I couldn’t think about Tasha. I couldn’t think about parties or betrayal or fake–ass–friends. All I could think about was Damon’s voice and that c**k and the way he was going to ruin me.
Like really ruin me.
Like crying on the floor, can’t sit right for a week ruin me.
I squirmed again, pressing my palm against the seat like it could anchor me to reality. But no. My reality was d**k. One d**k, specifically. One monster, Alpha f*****g daddy d**k with a cocky voice and a penthouse and a temper that could kill.
And I wanted him to use it.
Use me.
God, I was such a w***e.
A teenage, traitorous, best–friend’s–dad–obsessed w***e.
My legs kept twitching. My p***y throbbed again. I pressed my lips together and tried not to cry.
I wanted to touch myself so bad.
Just a little. Just to ease the ache.
My hand even twitched toward my skirt.
No.
No.
He said don’t come until he says so.
Don’t f*****g come until his c**k is in my mouth.
And I was a good girl, right?
Right?
I whimpered.
6/8
The Penthouse
The cab hit a bump. I gasped. My clit pulsed from the pressure.
“F**k,” I whispered, biting down on my knuckle, eyes wide, heart pounding, panties sticking to me like melted
candy.
I pulled out my phone and opened the picture again.
Oh my God.
It looked even bigger now.
Like my cunt just imagined it longer and harder and meaner with every glance.
I clenched.
I trembled.
I accidentally moaned again.
I was losing my f*****g mind.
And then..I saw it.
The pin dropped. The little red location dot. I was almost there.
Four minutes.
Three.
Two..
I was shaking so hard now I couldn’t even sit still. My ass kept rubbing against the seat like it was possessed. My breath was coming in hot little gasps.
The driver glanced at me again.
I smiled sweetly.
Like I wasn’t about to go get face–f****d until I forgot my own name.
And when the car stopped?
I didn’t even wait.
I opened the door.
Iran.
Heart in my throat.
p***y dripping.
Mind gone.
He was going to ruin me.
And I was going to f*****g let him. f**k.
48
Royalty Writes
#Vote# Thank you all for your support. I’ll stop here for today
<
