Make Me Moan, Daddy-Chapter 113

REINA

I lost count of how many times I came.

The bed was soaked—sheets twisted around my ankles, pillows knocked to the floor, the headboard banging rhythmically against the wall until the penthouse manager probably had complaints stacked up downstairs.

But I couldn’t care less. Daddy will take care of it. Fuck, my Daddy Domenico will take care of anything and everything for me just like the way he loves to take care of me.

Domenico fucked me like he was trying to ruin me for anyone else, and God, he was succeeding.

First it was slow—deep, rolling thrusts that made me feel every thick inch of him dragging against my walls, stretching me open again and again. I rode him until my thighs burned, until my clit was so sensitive I sobbed every time it grazed his pelvis. Then he flipped me onto my stomach, yanked my hips up, and pounded into me from behind—hard, relentless, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing louder than my moans. He reached around and rubbed my clit in tight circles until I came so hard my vision blacked out for a second.

He didn’t stop.

He pulled out, flipped me again, spread my legs wide, and ate me like a starving man—tongue fucking deep down my pussy, lips sucking my clit, fingers curling inside until I squirted on his face for the second time that night. I was shaking, oversensitive, begging him to stop and begging him to never stop at the same time.

"How could anyone not want this pussy. Fucking pussy!" I heard him growled, almost as if he was talking to himself.

I was confused, didn’t know what he was talking about or who he was talking about. But does it really matter? I couldn’t understand shit right now even if it was spelt out for me.

"Fuck, Daddy!" I hissed when he bit my clit, as if that wasn’t enough, Domenico pulled back and slapped my pussy real hard the pain went straight to my skull.

"Fuck! Daddy, that hurts!" I cried out, my toes curling.

Domenico smirked and flipped me right back, folding me in fucking half like I was some... fucking hell! What do people fold again? Why the fuck can’t I think with my head anymore?

"So good... so fucking good." I whimpered as I felt his cock head rubbing against my entrance again as he pressed down on me.

He slid back inside me—slow this time, letting me feel the stretch all over again—and fucked me missionary, face-to-face, kissing me through every thrust. His eyes never left mine. "Look at me when you come," he growled. "Let me see it."

I did. I came staring into his eyes, tears slipping down my temples, whispering his name like a prayer.

By the time he finally let himself go—burying deep and flooding me with hot pulses—I couldn’t feel my pussy anymore. Just a dull, throbbing ache, swollen and used, dripping with him and me and everything we’d done.

We lay there panting, sweat-slick, hearts hammering. His cock was still inside me, softening slowly, but neither of us moved to pull apart.

After a while—minutes, maybe an hour, time had blurred—he shifted.

Still buried to the hilt, he hooked his arms under my thighs, lifted me like I weighed nothing, and stood.

I gasped—half-laugh, half-moan—as gravity pulled me down harder onto his cock. The sudden fullness made my oversensitive walls flutter weakly.

"Domenico..."

"Shh," he murmured, kissing my temple. "I’ve got you."

He carried me across the room, still inside me, every step jostling him deeper. My legs wrapped around his waist instinctively. I clung to his shoulders, nails digging in, face buried in his neck.

He stopped in front of the floor-to-ceiling window.

The city sprawled below us—lights glittering like scattered diamonds, cars tiny moving specks, people invisible at this height but still there. Still watching, maybe, if they looked up.

He pressed my back to the cold glass.

I hissed at the contrast—hot skin against icy window.

He thrust once—slow, deep—pinning me there.

"Look at them," he whispered against my ear. "All those people down there... they could look up right now and see you. See me fucking you against this window like a desperate little slut."

I moaned—low, broken. My pussy clenched weakly around him, too sore to take much more, but still greedy.

He rocked into me—gentle but relentless—each thrust pressing my breasts to the glass, nipples hard and aching.

"They’d see how pretty you look," he continued, voice dark and filthy. "Tits pressed flat, legs wrapped around me, pussy stuffed full of my cock. They’d see how you tremble every time I hit that spot. How you bite your lip to keep from screaming my name."

Another thrust. Deeper.

"They’d see how wet you are," he growled. "How you drip down my balls. How you take every inch like you were made for it."

I whimpered, head falling back against the glass.

"Daddy..."

He fucked me harder now—still slow enough to make me feel every ridge, every vein, but deep enough that I swore I could see the bulge of his cock moving in my lower belly.

"Look," he rasped, pressing one hand to my stomach. "Feel that? That’s me. Right here. Fucking you so deep I’m rearranging your insides."

I looked down.

There it was—a faint, obscene outline moving under my skin every time he bottomed out.

I almost came again just from the sight.

He kept going—whispering dirty, possessive things against my ear.

"You’re mine," he said. "This pussy. This body. This heart. Mine."

Thrust.

"Say it."

"Yours," I sobbed. "Jesus! I’m only yours."

He kissed me—messy, desperate—then pulled back to watch my face while he fucked me against the window.

I was so full, so sore, so overwhelmed that tears slipped down my cheeks.

He licked them off.

When I finally felt the pressure building—not pleasure anymore, but something else—I whimpered.

"Domenico... I... I need to pee."

He went perfectly still, cock buried deep inside me. Then he smirked. Slow and wicked.

Carefully, he pulled out—slow enough to make me whine at the sudden emptiness—and lowered me to the floor. For a heartbeat, I thought he’d carry me to the bathroom.

Instead, he lay back on the plush carpet, head tipped toward the window, and looked up at me like he already owned the moment.

"Straddle my face," he said.

My heart stuttered. "What?"

"You heard me." His voice was low, unyielding. "Sit on my mouth. Use me like your toilet. Don’t be nice, pee in my mouth."

I nearly fainted.

The words were filthy. Degrading. So perfectly wrong my knees threatened to give out.

I straddled his chest first, legs trembling, then shifted until my pussy hovered over his mouth.

"Look at me," he ordered.

I did.

His eyes were dark—hungry, reverent, unblinking.

"Piss," he said softly. "Let go. I want it all."

I hesitated. One last shred of shame clung to me.

Then I relaxed.

The first hot stream hit his tongue.

He groaned—deep, satisfied—and opened his mouth wider. His hands gripped my ass, holding me in place while I emptied myself onto his tongue, down his throat. He swallowed—greedily, noisily—eyes never leaving mine.

It was the most intimate, depraved thing we’d ever done.

When the stream slowed to a trickle he licked me clean—slow, thorough, tongue dipping inside to catch every last drop.

I collapsed forward, hands braced on the carpet above his head, shaking so hard I thought I might break apart.

He kissed my inner thigh.

"My perfect slut," he whispered. "My filthy, beautiful girl."

I laughed—shaky, breathless.

Then I slid down his body until I was straddling his hips again.

His cock was rock-hard, glistening with pre-cum.

I sank down slowly—sore, swollen, but so wet it didn’t matter.

We both groaned.

This time I rode him slow—deep, rolling grinds—watching his face the whole time.

He let me take control.

Let me use him.

And when I came again—soft, shuddering, tears slipping down my cheeks—he came with me, flooding me deep, whispering my name like it was the only word he knew.

We lay there on the floor—sweaty, spent, tangled—city lights glittering above us.

He kissed my forehead.

"I love you," he said quietly.

I smiled against his chest.

"I love you too." Because fuck, how could I not love him when he just fucked me so good I wanna die right here and right now and the only thing I see before my eyes close forever was him?

"I love you so much." I repeated over and over again until he started laughing like a young boy in love.

And for the first time in a long time, I believed it might be enough for me. Even though it was just the horny side of me speaking right now.