Sweet Girl by Quell T. Fox
Charlotte
Hegripsmearoundthewaistwithonearm,pullingmeforward,bendingmeoverhisknee.Heflipstheskirtofmydressupandbringshishanddownonmyass,hard.Thesoundisloudandthestingisharsh,butitfeelssogood.
“Does my girl like that?” he asks softly.
He rubs the sore flesh before bringing his hand up and doing it again.
I cry out, but my whimpering turns into a moan.
“Yes, I think you do.”
Jonathan bends forward, placing a soft kiss right over the spot he’s now slapped twice. The spot that is now aching and raw. His fingers trail up my thighs, and his hands spread my legs apart.
“Look at this pussy. Shining and glistening with wetness.” He trails one finger from my clit to my hole, circling it slowly.
He removes his finger from me. “Mmm, you taste so good.”
He pulls his finger from his mouth with a pop and brings it back to my clit, using just the one to rub small, gentle circles. Teasing. I’m so wet and needy and sensitive. My legs begin to shake.
“I quite like seeing you bent over my knee like this,” he says, his finger still bringing me pleasure. “You like it too, I can see.” He slides a finger inside, so fucking slowly before pulling it out and moving back to my clit. “Come for me, sweet girl. Let me watch your pussy drip for me.”
He’s barely touching me, brushing against my swollen nub so slowly but it doesn’t matter. I’m so turned on that it’s all I need. The orgasm strikes, my body tensing up and shaking with pleasure. “That’s it, baby. Come for daddy.”
I wake up with a layer of sweat coating my entire body. I know I’m going to need a shower but my core is aching to be touched.
Fuck, that dream felt so real. I look at the clock and note that Mom won’t be home for at least another hour.
I throw the thin sheet off of me, taking a quick glance around my room but I don’t see anything out of the ordinary. My desk sits against the wall at the foot of my bed. To the left of that is a tall bookshelf filled with memories of mine. A dresser is to my right, and on my left is the closet.
If he’s watching me… how? Where?
I sit myself up against my headboard and slide my hand into my shorts finding myself wetter than I’ve ever been before. Using two fingers, I slide them around my entrance, gathering up the slick fluid and bringing it up to my clit. My head falls back to the headboard as I begin to slowly bring myself the orgasm I need.
My phone dings.
I ignore it.
This is more important.
I work myself up, moving quickly across my clit until my legs are shaking and I feel like I’m going to come, and then I stop. I take a few breaths before starting to circle my clit again. I feel it throb beneath my fingers and right before it’s too late, I stop, knowing how intense it’ll be once I finally give in, the pleasure more intense.
Another ping of my phone.
Finally, when I can’t take it anymore, I keep going, allowing myself the orgasm that I so desperately need. My mouth falls open with a silent cry and my hand grips the sheet, bunching it between my fingers.
My phone dings again but I barely hear it this time, too caught up in the pleasure.
I slowly peel my eyes open, looking around my room again with a smirk on my face.
When my phone dings again, I look over to it on my end table and see the most recent text.
Jonathan: Lick those fingers clean. Don’t waste a single drop.
So he can see me. It should creep me out. Knowing he has a camera set up in my room somewhere, but something about it excites me. Something about it makes me want to play. I want to anger him, make him jealous. I want him to want to punish me.
He doesn’t know who he is up against.
I tilt my head to the side, bringing my fingers to my mouth and wrapping my lips around them. I swirl my tongue around, tasting myself before I pull them out.
Ding…
Jonathan: Good girl.
After a nice hot shower to clean up all the sweat, I get dressed and head downstairs to get some breakfast. I find the house empty, which is expected. As I’m sitting at the table eating my cereal, I check my phone. I had three other messages from Jonathan before the one I saw.
Jonathan: You like putting on a show for me, sweet girl?
Jonathan: Think of me touching that pussy for you.
Jonathan: Think of me while you come.
This man is so dirty, it drives me fucking wild.
I head to the living room after that, wanting to lounge around and catch up on cheesy TV shows. The house is so quiet without Jonathan here. Mom is barely ever home, so it’s not like she ever made a peep. I begin to wonder about the guy she has been seeing. Who is he? Why did she start seeing him? And where is she moving to?
I start to think of that whole situation again and I feel awful for Jonathan. How could she do that to him?
The front door opens a short time later and I can tell it’s Mom by the way she sets her keys down. She always tosses them, causing a louder clang. Jonathan places them down neatly.
“Charlie, you here?”
“In here!” I shout. Her face pops around the corner a moment later and she comes in and takes a seat beside me.
“Hey, I’m really sorry about the other day. I’ve been wanting to talk to you about it.”
“It’s fine. It’s not even any of my business,” I say dismissively, really not wanting to get into it with her.
“But it is, you’re my daughter.”
“Does he make you happy?”
She looks taken aback. “What?”
“This… guy. Whoever he is. Does he make you happy?”
“Yes.” She says, without hesitation.
“Then that’s all that matters, okay? I shouldn’t have gotten upset with you. It wasn’t fair of me, it’s not my business.”
She smiles and pats me on the leg.
“Okay, glad that’s done but…” I raise an eyebrow. “Jonathan asked that we go for lunch with him today.”
My heart starts to pick up.
“What? Why?”
“I told him you were upset, thought maybe he would talk to you. He said he thought it was best we do it together and I agree. He’s been a part of your life for quite some time now, the closest thing you’ve ever had to a father. Him and I plan to stay friends, I just think it’s the adult thing to do.”
“The adult thing to do?” I groan, while her words run through my head.
…closest thing you’ve ever had to a father.
“Charlie, even though we aren’t together, he’s still like your stepdad.”
Oh, fuck. No. No, Mom, no. This is what I’m trying to avoid. My mouth falls open, trying to find words but nothing comes out.
“Be ready for twelve thirty, okay?” I nod and look back towards the TV. “I’m going to take a nap.”
I pick up my phone, immediately sending him a text.
Me: We’re having lunch together?
Jonathan: As your stepfather, I feel it is only appropriate to speak to you with your mother about the situation at hand.
Me: Is that all that it is?
Jonathan: I said you would regret it.
I can’t help but smile. This is a punishment? A way for him to get back at me? Fine. It’s time to up the ante.