Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 26344 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 132(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26344 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 132(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
God, she looks so confident up there. So fucking beautiful, it nearly stops my fucking heart.
“Are you coming?” she chirps, squinting into the darkness, and the words are enough to put me over the fucking edge.
“Yes...” I grit out, my erection so thick my fingertips barely overlap as I imagine Winona, the girl who considers me her father for all intents and purposes, straddling me, tits in my face, as I bounce her up and down.
You want to bounce like a big girl on Daddy’s dick, do you?
My balls cinch up, and I’m way beyond the point of no return in more ways than one.
The vision of her hands guiding her nipple to my mouth as her dripping pussy clenches around me doubles me over as my orgasm ties knots down my back.
I nearly crumple to my knees as I cum so fucking hard I feel it like a punch in the gut.
A thick spurt of release covers my hand, the sticky, heated cream dripping between my fingers before I tighten them together to keep it all from falling to the floor.
I’m still spurting as I pump up and down, wondering if opening the curtain and letting her see what she does to me would be the better move here.
“Well, hurry the heck up!” Winona’s voice rocks through me as the waves of pleasure ricochet around, until finally my vision returns as my brain comes back online, my left hand cupping the warmth of my ejaculate, the rest of it in drops and strings on the floor.
I make a mental note to grab the steam mop and do a clandestine clean-up later.
Blood pounds in my temples as I choke out an answer. “Just sending a couple messages, I’ll be right there.”
I glance at the stage and see her crinkle up her face in playful irritation as I try to catch my breath.
“Isn’t it the star who is supposed to keep you waiting, not the other way around?”
Fuck, if she only knew how she has kept me waiting.
I shouldn’t do this. I shouldn’t think these things.
She’s not my real daughter, though. That makes it better. Right?
“Daddy! Come on!”
As if she’s reading my thoughts, the words hit me like jagged blades to the heart as I stuff my cock in my jeans with one hand, my other still cupping some of my sticky release.
What am I supposed to fucking do with it?
I don’t have the brain power to figure that out right now. Clearly, I’m out of my mind as I break through the burgundy velvet and stalk down the little aisle with matching velvet theater-type seating on both sides.
There are a hundred and fifteen seats. Enough to make it feel like a real concert venue. I still remember the day I brought her to the house while it was still under construction and showed her the space that would be her own private stage.
The velvet seats were delivered but not installed, the matching curtains hanging from both sides of the stage, the wood floor raw and unfinished, the scent of sawdust in the air. She looked at me like I was fucking God. At that moment, I knew I would never be able to let her go.
My thoughts then weren’t like they are now, but she was mine. My daughter, in every way but the law.
“What are you going to sing?” I collapse into my usual seat in the front row, letting my knees spread wide to give my still-throbbing dick some space, as the evidence of my obsession stays cupped in the palm of my left hand, my fingers loosely curling around.
“Something new I’ve been working on.” She clears her throat, her bare toes curling on the wood, and I wish I had brought another drink with me. Maybe that would calm me the fuck down.
“I’m ready when you are.” I heave a breath. “You know nothing pleases me more than hearing you sing.”
That’s not entirely true, but making my girl feel like the center of the universe and a queen is the central focus of my entire being. Plus, if I told her what pleases me more, she might take out a restraining order.
The first note takes solid aim at my balls, then by the time I figure out what song she’s singing, the chorus cocks back and delivers another shot directly to my heart.
The incessant ache in my chest and between my legs intensifies. God, she’s the most beautiful woman to ever walk the earth. When she sings, her whole being changes. She’s no longer the questioning, somewhat off-balance, insecure girl that hides her mouth when she chews and came home crying so many fucking times from school from the teasing.
She walks on water when she’s behind the microphone. She shines like a million supernovas. Her eyes settle into sultry slits as she sways and locks them on mine.