Taking daddy's c*ck 4
911 Words
Mason moved around the kitchen with a quiet confidence that made my stomach flip. Every little thing—the way he chopped vegetables, the way his muscles moved under his shirt—felt erotic. I wasn't hungry for the pasta he was making; I was hungry for him.
He served the plates and sat down across from me. He was being so sweet, asking me how it tasted and even leaning over to feed me a bite from his own fork.
His hand slid under the table, his fingers grazing my thigh. He hooked one finger under the edge of my booty shorts and pulled them aside. His eyes darkened as he realized the truth.
"You're a bad girl, Nina," he whispered, his voice dropping into that dangerous growl. "Going around the house with no panties on while I'm here?"
"What are you doing?" I gasped, but I didn't pull away.
He didn't answer. He just slid two fingers inside me, finding me already wet and ready. I let out a loud, shaky moan, my head dropping back as he began to pump his hand rhythmically. I was lost in the feeling, my body melting onto the stool, completely forgetting the world outside the kitchen.
Then, the sound of a key scratched in the front door lock.
We both froze. The heavy thud of the door opening echoed through the house, followed by a familiar voice.
"Nina? Mason? You guys home?"
My heart plummeted into my stomach. It was Joe. My dad.
Mason didn't pull his hand out immediately. He kept his fingers buried inside me for one more agonizing second, his eyes locked on mine with a wicked, silent dare.
"Stay cool," he mouthed, finally withdrawing his hand and wiping it casually on a napkin just as footsteps approached the kitchen.
I scrambled off the stool, my legs feeling like jelly. Every time I moved, I could feel the slick heat Mason had left behind, a throbbing reminder of what he’d been doing just seconds ago. My heart was slamming against my ribs so hard I thought it would burst.
"Dad!" I cried out, my voice sounding a little too high, a little too desperate.
I ran toward him, needing a distraction from the filth I’d just been immersed in. Joe laughed, his face lighting up as he opened his arms wide. He caught me in a massive hug, and without thinking, I jumped, wrapping my legs tightly around his waist and burying my face in his shoulder.
He smelled like the outdoors and old spice—completely different from Mason’s dark, expensive scent.
"Whoa, easy there, kiddo!" Dad chuckled, holding me steady by my thighs. "I missed you too, but I only went away for a few days."
Over my dad's shoulder, my eyes snapped to Mason. He was still sitting at the table, leaning back in his chair with a glass of water in his hand. He looked completely calm, but his eyes were like ice. He watched the way my legs were wrapped around my father, his gaze lingering on the bare skin of my thighs and the way my see-through top was bunched up.
He took a slow sip of his water, a tiny, knowing smirk touching his lips. He knew exactly how much I was struggling to act normal while my core was still pulsing from his fingers.
"Good to see you, Joe," Mason said, his voice as smooth as silk. "Nina was just telling me how much she missed the family."
I shivered.
Joe laughed as he set me back down on my feet. "I just wanted to drop off your volleyball gear and see my sweet bean," he said, ruffling my hair. I gave him a quick "thank you," trying to keep my breathing steady.
"I would've been here sooner," he added, his voice dropping a bit, "but I didn't want to risk running into Maddy."
My heart ached for him. I knew Dad still loved Mom, but she was always too busy for him, always chasing the next big promotion. It was sad, really. But as I looked at Mason, who was watching us like a hawk, I didn't feel sad anymore. I felt electric.
Then, Dad turned to me with a hopeful smile. "Hey, Nina, would you mind if I stayed the night? It’s getting late, and I’d love to catch up properly."
I felt a surge of frustration and immediately shot him a stink eye. I loved my dad more than anything, and usually, I'd be thrilled to have him stay. But right now?
All I could think about was the way Mason's fingers felt inside me. I’d much rather be getting fingered under the dinner table than sitting through a "family" chat about my grades and sports.
Mason stood up, his tall frame dominating the kitchen. He looked at me, then at my dad, his expression unreadable.
"Of course you can stay, Joe," Mason said, his voice deep and welcoming. "We were just about to finish dinner. There’s plenty for you, too."
He looked back at me, a wicked glint in his blue eyes. He knew exactly why I was upset. He walked over to the counter to grab another plate, and as he passed me, his hand "accidentally" brushed against my backside, right where my booty shorts ended.
"Nina, why don't you help your father with his bags?" Mason suggested. "And then we can all sit down... together."
- Writer
