Chapter 3 Taking my father-in-law's c*ck 3

A dark, dangerous sound...half growl, half triumph...tore from his throat. My brazenness had clearly pushed him over the edge.

In one swift, primal motion, he pulled my face closer and crashed his lips onto mine.

The kiss wasn't a gentle meeting; it was an act of possession, an urgent, lustful assault. His mouth molded roughly to mine, and he sucked possessively on my lower lip, then my upper, drawing me in as a starved man takes a meal. His tongue plunged in, thick and demanding, swirling fiercely against mine, biting teasingly as our mouths became a mess of hot breath and desperate need.

He devoured my gasp as he finally broke the kiss, pulling back just enough for me to see the feral glint in his eyes. I was left gasping for air, the impact and urgency of the moment leaving me dizzy.

He smirked, a slow, sly curve of his lips that was pure predatory satisfaction, and then his eyes trailed down, assessing my lace-clad body on the table.

He didn't hesitate. With a decisive tug, he roughly removed the silk robe I'd cinched around my waist, tossing it aside. I was left exposed in the delicate, flimsy red lingerie. His large hand slid down, cupping my left breast, the thin lace of the push-up bra offering no real barrier. I could feel the heat of his palm, the slight roughening of his skin.

Then, with a sudden, rough grip that caught me by surprise, he took a fistful of the lace and ripped the bra clean apart. The sound of the tearing fabric was shockingly loud, a final surrender to this forbidden night.

My bare breasts spilled out, my nipples instantly painfully hard and pointed for his ravenous glare. Under different circumstances, I knew I should be mortified, embarrassed that my father-in-law was seeing me in this state, my nakedness on full display amid the scattered wreckage of my failed anniversary.

But there was no room for shame. Instead, what coursed through me was an undeniable, white-hot hunger. I felt like a lioness, starved for the feast. I craved every bit of him...his touch, his lips, but most of all, the sight and feel of his thick, veiny cock buried deep in my wet, pink pussy.

His hand now held my breast, his touch turning momentarily gentle, caressing the soft curve of it, feeling the texture of my skin. Then, with a return to his rougher intensity, he used his thumb and index finger to pinch on my hard nipple.

A sharp, breathless moan tore from my throat.

Immediately, his mouth descended. He worked his warm, wet mouth against my peak, latching on and sucking with powerful intent, playfully biting and flicking with his tongue, a dizzying whirlwind of sensation.

At the same time, his other hand tracked the curve of my hip and reached for my core, feeling the dampness through the thong. My eyes fluttered halfway closed, lost to the feel of his tongue on my breast. I was moaning now, arching my hips off the cold wood to meet his rhythm, a plea in my movement.

He freed one nipple with a slurp, then immediately latched onto the other, sucking and biting gently, as his fingers finally found their way to the thin strip of lace. He slid my thong to the side and dipped two large, warm fingers into my dripping pussy, finding the slick, eager entrance immediately.

He began to work his fingers deep inside me, moving them with a practiced, confident rotation. I was biting my lip, my breath coming in ragged gasps, the raw pleasure an unbearable, beautiful agony.

"Please!" I begged, the word ragged and desperate. "Fuck me already! I need to feel you stretch my core."

He let go of my nipple with a final, wet sound and leaned his face close to mine, his eyes molten and dark. He smirked, a devastatingly cruel expression.

"Not yet, Mia," he promised, his voice a low, delicious threat. "It's far too soon." He watched my face as he spoke. "I need to build this up. I'm going to completely shatter you, but you have to wait for it."

The moment he said the words, the pace and intensity of his fingers inside me rocketed. He was moving them in and out with a fierce, punishing rhythm, while his thumb worked the delicate, swollen peak of my clit.

I was bucking, squirming, my toes curling so tight they ached, my hands gripping the edge of the dining table until my knuckles were white. The only sound in the room was the heavy, quickening sound of my breath and the wet, slick sound of my pussy juice on his fingers.

"Do you enjoy that, Mia?" he asked, the question clipped and commanding.

"Yes," I gasped out, breathless.

"Do you want me to do much worse things to you?"

I couldn't speak, so I could only manage a frantic nod, my lips slightly parted, my head thrown back.

"Tell me," he demanded, his voice dropping another octave. "Do you want me to fuck you?"

"Yes," I whispered, the word nearly drowned out by my own moans.

"I can't hear you, Mia. Say it louder. Beg for it."

The word came unbidden, a primal, shameful plea that was purely instinctual. "Yes, Daddy! Please fuck me, Daddy!"

That was the magic word. Seeing me beg, watching me shatter under his touch, fueled him.

He clenched his fingers into a rough fist and drove it in and out of me, still brushing his thumb against my clit. It was too much. The pleasure coiled tighter and tighter, a burning, exquisitely painful knot deep in my belly.

I threw my head back and screamed the words, "Fuck, I'm cumming!"

His face was a mask of dark, exhilarating triumph. "Don't you dare," he commanded, his voice sharp enough to cut through my climax.

"I can't take it anymore!" I cried, my body shaking violently on the table.

Then, with a vicious snap, he snatched his fingers out of me.

The sudden emptiness, the brutal, immediate absence, left me completely shattered, a wreck of unspent tension and frustration. I lay panting on the cool wood, my body humming with a frustrated, agonizing energy.

He leaned in again, his breath warm and intoxicating on my ear, and he gave me a deep, possessive kiss. "Now," he whispered, his voice a low, gravelly promise that settled deep in my core. "Now let Daddy feed you his cock."

He straightened up and, with a powerful, smooth motion, reached for the waistband of his faded grey sweatpants. He pulled them down, and as the thin fabric dropped to his ankles, I saw it.

His cock.

It was thick and veiny, already slicked at the tip with a pre-ejaculate that glistened in the soft candlelight. It was truly long, imposing....a powerful weapon of pleasure and destruction.

The sight of it sent a dizzying rush of excitement and raw terror through me. My throat constricted, and I could only gulp, my eyes wide and glued to the immense, forbidden promise now standing proudly between my spread thighs.

The waiting was over.