Mafia Daddies Between My Thighs

Chapter 99: Chapter NINETY NINE

ANGEL

He stepped between my legs. I expected him to push inside me. I craved the stretch, and fullness.

Instead, he took his cock in his hand and laid it against my cunt. Not inside. On top. The heavy, hot length of him resting in the channel of my folds.

His shaft pressing against my clit. The swollen head resting against my lower belly. I could feel every ridge of him, every vein, the heat of his blood pulsing against the most sensitive part of my body.

I moaned, a long and broken wound that trembled from me.

”Feel that?” He rocked his hips, dragging his cock through my folds. The underside of his shaft grinding against my clit, parting my lips, coating himself in me. ”Feel how big Daddy is against your little pussy?”

”Yes. fuck, yes!”

”This is what you begged for. What you threw plates for.” He dragged himself through me again. Slow. Base to tip. My wetness painted him in a slick, glistening coat. ”All because you needed Daddy’s cock.”

”I always need Daddy’s cock—”

He pulled back, lifting his cock from my cunt. I whimpered at the loss — the cold air against my soaked, swollen flesh.

Then he brought it down.

A slap.

Firm.

The thick, heavy weight of his cock landing against my cunt. Against my clit. The wet smack echoed off the kitchen walls.

The sensation detonated through me. My body seized — back arching, hands flying to the table edges, a sharp cry ripping from my chest.

It was not pain. Something brighter than pain and can only be compared to a jolt of raw, electric pleasure that shot from my clit up my spine and burst behind my eyes like a flashbulb.

”Oh fuck — Daddy—”

He did it again. Harder. His cock slapping down against my swollen cunt. The impact sent a spray of my own wetness across my inner thighs. The sound was filthy — thick, wet.

”Again,” I gasped. ”Please... again...”

Again.

The heavy meat of him landing flush against my clit. My body jerked. A scream tore from me.

My legs were shaking, my thighs spread wide while he stood between them and beat my cunt with his cock.

Each slap landed precisely, pushing me higher. And higher.

”You like that?” His voice was thick. Dark. ”You like Daddy slapping your pussy with his cock?”

”I love it. I love it, Daddy. harder!”

Harder.

The slap was loud enough to carry through the open door.

My arousal was everywhere — on his cock, on my thighs, on the table.

Each impact sent shockwaves through my swollen clit and I was climbing fast, the orgasm building in my belly with each wet, brutal smack.

”Look at this mess.” He dragged his cock through my folds again. Soaking himself. Then slapped it down again. ”Look at what Daddy does to his little girl. You’re soaking my kitchen.”

”I can’t help it. I can’t, Daddy, I’m going to—”

”Not yet.” He stopped, holding his cock against my cunt. He pressed the head against my clit and ground in a slow circle. The pressure was maddening — firm, his swollen head rubbing against my swollen clit — and I was right there, right at the edge, my whole body trembling.

”Daddy, please let me come, please!”

”Who does this pussy belong to?”

”You! it’s yours, Daddy!”

”Who makes it this wet?”

”You do. Only you.”

”And who’s going to come all over Daddy’s cock right now?”

”Me, Daddy, please—”

He slapped his cock against my cunt one more time — hard, the hardest yet, the full weight of him landing flush against my throbbing clit — and I shattered.

The orgasm ripped through me like a current. My back arched so hard I lifted clean off the table. My mouth was open, the scream coming from somewhere deep in my chest, filling the kitchen, the hallway.

The whole fucking house.

I felt it — the rush, the release, warmth gushing from me. Flooding. Pouring from my cunt in a hot, pulsing stream that splashed against his cock, his stomach, ran down between my thighs and pooled on the table beneath me.

”There she is.” Vicenzo’s voice was low, thick with something primal. He looked down at his cock — drenched, dripping with me — and then at the mess I’d made. His stomach was wet. His thighs were wet. The table was a lake.

But he wasn’t done. He pressed his cock back against my cunt. Dragged it through my folds — soaked, oversensitive, every nerve ending screaming. And slapped it down again.

I screamed, my body convulsing.

It was too much. I was too sensitive and the impact against my swollen, throbbing clit was blinding.

”Daddy, it’s too much!”

”I didn’t say one, Angel.” He slapped again. ”I said reward.” Again. ”Daddy decides when you’ve had enough.”

He beat my cunt with his cock — steady, rhythmic, each slap sending shockwaves through my oversensitized body.

I was sobbing, tears streaming down my temples into my hair from the intensity.

The relentless pleasure that was too much and not enough and exactly right.

”Give me another one.” He pressed his cock against my clit. Ground. Slow, firm circles with the swollen head against my swollen bud.

”Come for Daddy again.”

”I can’t — it’s too much!”

”You can.” He ground harder, his hand found my breast. He squeezed. It was rough. His thumb and finger found my nipple and pinched — hard enough that the pain shot straight to my clit and tangled with the pleasure until I couldn’t tell them apart. ”One more, baby. One more and then Daddy will give you what you want,”

”Please. Daddy, please!”

”Be a good girl. Give Daddy one more. Show Daddy what his little pussy can do.”

”Oooooh fuck!” The second orgasm hit me like a wave breaking. I gushed again — more this time, a flood, my body releasing in a hot rush that soaked his hand, his cock, the table.

”That’s my girl.” Vicenzo praised, he was drenched. His chest. His stomach. His cock glistening with me. He looked like he’d walked through a rainstorm. And the expression on his face — dark, satisfied, possessive, hungry for more — was the most depraved thing I’d ever seen on a human being.

”My perfect, beautiful girl.” He groaned, his cock harder than ever, throbbing and leaking at the tip, coated in the evidence of what he’d just done to me.