Unholy Desires

~Maya~ I swear I didn’t mean to do it. I didn’t mean to end up in that hallway with nothing but a tiny towel that barely fit over my ass. I didn’t mean to be dripping all over the floor, walking around like I didn’t live under someone else’s roof, like I didn’t know damn well that my best friend’s father was home from his trip and already upstairs showering. I was just hot, okay? I was sweating through my skin and the air conditioning was broken and Tessa said I could always use their bathroom when hers was full, and I wasn’t thinking because the water was running and I thought it would be empty. I didn’t knock. I didn’t even hesitate. I just opened the door, stepped inside, and walked into a goddamn trap. Because there he was. Mr. Maddox. Kayla’s dad. The man I should not even be looking at. The man I’d been dreaming about every single night since I moved in. Standing there in the mirror, soaking wet, steam curling around him like it wanted to keep him hidden just for me, towel hanging low on his hips like it didn’t care how hard it was to look away from the thick, dangerous bulge pressing against it. I froze. I didn’t breathe. Didn’t move. I just stood there like an i***t, like a horny little girl who never learned how to look away from the monster under her bed. Because that’s what he looked like. Big and hard and scarred and mean. He had muscles everywhere. Thick arms, broad shoulders, abs that looked like bricks stacked under skin, and those veins that ran down into the V at his hips, leading lower to where the towel barely held on. He didn’t cover himself. He didn’t shout or panic or even flinch. He just turned his head, eyes cutting to me like a f*****g knife, and stared. And that stare? It made my knees shake. It made my n*****s harden and my thighs go sticky, because it wasn’t just the kind of stare a dad gives a girl. It wasn’t even the kind of stare a man gives a woman. It was the kind of stare a wolf gives his prey right before he takes a bite. “You lost?” he asked, and his voice was so deep, so rough and dry like it hadn’t been used in hours, that I nearly whimpered. I couldn’t answer. My throat locked up. I was staring too hard, biting my lip too hard, feeling too much. I wanted to run. I wanted to stay. I wanted to drop my towel and crawl to him on my knees and beg him to do all the things I knew he’d never admit he thought about. My lips parted. My breath came in short, shameful pants. And then his gaze dropped to my towel, to the part of me barely covered, to the droplets clinging to my collarbone, the shape of my t**s pushing up underneath the edge. And he smiled. Not a nice smile. Not a friendly one. It was cruel. A smile that made me want to scream. Then he stepped forward. Just one step. I backed up immediately, hitting the wall with my spine, pressing my thighs together like it would stop anything from happening. But it didn’t. I was wet. Soaked. Not from the shower. From the stare. From the sound of his voice. From the tension thickening the air like something dirty was about to explode. “You walk around like that and expect me not to notice?” he asked. He was so close now. I could smell his body wash, the heat of his skin, the s*x in his scent. “You think I haven’t seen how you look at me when you think I’m not watching?” My throat worked. I tried to speak, but all that came out was a pathetic noise. My towel shifted. His eyes dropped to my cleavage again. And then he reached out, fast, rough, no warning and he ripped it off. He just tore it from my body like it was nothing. Like I was nothing but something to be unwrapped. I gasped. My hands flew to cover myself, but it was too late. He saw everything. My full breasts. My pierced n*****s. My soft belly. The thick curve of my thighs and the glistening mess between them. I was exposed. Naked. Caught. And I’d never felt so wet in my life. “f**k,” he muttered. “You really are soaked, aren’t you?” I didn’t move. I couldn’t. My thighs trembled. My core pulsed. I felt the heat rolling off my skin like I was going to melt into the damn wall. And when he stepped closer, when he touched my chin with one rough hand and tilted my face up to meet his eyes, I almost cried. Because I could see it in him. The hunger. The filth. The fact that he’d been waiting for this just as long as I had. “You want this,” he said. “Say it.” “I want it,” I whispered. My voice was so small, but so f*****g loud in the silence. “Say it right.” “I want you to touch me,” I breathed. “I want you to do everything. Everything I shouldn’t let you do. Everything I’ve thought about. I want you to ruin me.” He growled. I swear to God he f*****g growled. And then he grabbed me — full hands on my ass — lifted me like I weighed nothing, and dropped me on the counter, spreading my legs with his knee and shoving his face straight between my thighs like he was starving for it. And baby, that was just the beginning. His tongue hit me like a lightning bolt. I screamed. I swear I did. It wasn’t cute or quiet or girly. It was this feral, filthy sound that burst out of me the second his mouth found my cunt and latched on like it belonged to him. Like he’d been waiting forever to do this. Like my p***y was the last thing he’d taste before the world ended. His tongue didn’t just lick..it devoured. It was sliding up through my folds like he wanted to learn every part of me, memorize every twitch and tremble, every gasp I gave him, every clench of my thighs as my body arched off the f*****g bathroom counter like it couldn’t decide whether to run or f*****g stay forever. “f**k,” I cried, clawing at the marble edge behind me, my legs shaking as he spread them wider and shoved two thick fingers in without warning. “Oh my God..oh my f*****g God, Daddy!” Yes. I called him Daddy. It slipped out. I couldn’t help it. I was soaked and desperate and no part of me gave a single damn that this was my best friend’s father. All I could think about was the stretch, the ache, the way his tongue flicked against my c**t with perfect rhythm like he’d studied my body in his dreams, like he’d fantasized about this as much as I had. He didn’t respond with words. He groaned. I was shaking. Panting. So f*****g close to exploding I could feel it in my spine. His fingers pumped in and out of me so fast, so wet, so f*****g perfect, and his mouth never left my c**t. I was squirming, grinding against his face like I was trying to ride it, like I needed him deeper, harder, rougher, even though I already knew I wasn’t gonna survive this. “Please,” I begged. “Please don’t stop. I’m so close, I swear I’m—f**k, f**k—” My body locked up. My thighs clamped around his head, and I screamed again, but this time it was broken, ruined, full of something raw and cracked and so goddamn filthy I couldn’t even believe it came from me. I came. Hard. Like… seeing-stars, choking-on-my-own-breath, crying-because-it-hurt-and-felt-so-good kind of hard. My p***y clenched around his fingers and gushed all over his mouth, and he didn’t stop. He growled again, deeper this time, grabbing my hips and dragging me down the counter so he could f**k me with his tongue while I was still shaking from the high. I couldn’t even speak. I couldn’t think. I was wrecked. And he was still going. “Look at that,” he murmured against me, licking up every drop like he wanted to keep it. “f*****g soaking the counter for me. Dripping like your cunt was begging for Daddy’s tongue. You’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you, kitten?” I moaned. Whimpered. Nodded so hard my vision blurred. I didn’t even care anymore. “Yes, yes, f**k—please, I want more.” “You’ll get more,” he promised. “I’m not done with you. I’m not even close.” And just like that, he stood up, mouth glistening with my c*m, eyes dark and wild, that towel finally falling from his hips—and holy f*****g s**t. That was not a c**k. That was a weapon. . Leaking at the tip like it was angry and ready and f*****g starved. My breath caught in my throat. My legs dropped open wider. I was still trembling from the orgasm, but I didn’t care. I wanted more. I wanted all of it. I wanted to feel what it would be like to take that massive c**k inside me and never be the same again. “On your knees,” he ordered. “Let’s see what that pretty little mouth can do.” And baby, you already know.. I f*****g obeyed. I dropped. Literally fell to my knees like my legs weren’t mine anymore. Like the second he said it, they gave up and melted because f**k, I’d never moved so fast in my life. The cold tile stung under me, but I didn’t even feel it. All I could see was him. Maddox. Mr. Maddox. Daddy. Towering above me with that monster c**k in his hand, thick and dripping and so damn big I swear I almost cried. “I—” I choked, licking my lips, eyes wide as I stared up at it like it was the sun and I’d been kept in the dark my whole life. “I don’t even think it’ll fit in my mouth…” He smirked. That filthy, cocky smirk that made my c**t throb all over again. “You’ll try,” he said, wrapping one hand in my hair and jerking my head back so hard my spine arched. “Open, kitten. Let Daddy f**k that smart little mouth.” I did. God, I did. My lips parted on instinct, tongue flicking out before I could stop it, and he pushed in. Slowly at first. Just the tip. Just enough to make me taste the salt of his skin, the warm pre-c*m that smeared across my tongue like it belonged there. My mouth stretched so wide I whimpered. My jaw ached already, but I didn’t pull back. I took more. Deeper. Letting it fill my mouth, slide over my tongue, press into my throat until I gagged—but still didn’t stop. “That’s it,” he groaned, his fingers tightening in my hair, hips rolling forward just a little. “Take it. Don’t run from it, baby. You wanted this, didn’t you? Walking around dripping wet in my house, staring at my c**k every time I turned my back. You wanted me to catch you.” I moaned around him. The vibrations made his eyes darken. He shoved deeper. I choked.