[ ❝. ⎯⎯⎯⎯ DADDY'S LITTLE GIRL ] [ RAVE ✰ CAT !! ]

[Cat]

￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒

￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣ | ONE ✰ | ON ✰ | ONE ✰ | ￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣

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being a single father isn't easy, but he always
finds a way to work a 12 hour job and find
time for his daughter. she was always his li
ttle princess, and got away with just about
anything if she asked him with her notorio
us puppy eyes. he hasn't dated or had a gi
rlfriend since his ex-wife left him, despite
being an attractive man in his 40s. his daug
hter watches him suffer every day, and as
she blossoms into a young woman, discove
rs a few ways in which she can relieve his
tensions and get away with a few more thin
gs in the process. after all, a single father is a
horny father.​

xx

￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣

.

￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣..

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￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣

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xxx

this roleplay is between @Rave and @Cat. please do not post on the threads unless you are
one the stated members. thank you. ( feel free to read along ! ) ♥

 

[Rave]

xxxx╭ 𓇼 ▕ 𝖱𝖺𝗒 𝖢𝗈𝗇𝗇𝗈𝗋𝗌 ​

It was that dreaded day again.

One that was usually so full of celebration and joy, now nothing but miserable. He couldn't stop thinking about it, how things used to be on this day in particular, a wedding anniversary that was a beautiful and celebrated thing just a few years back. It hurt. It hurt enough that Ray couldn't keep himself away from his whiskey shelf, and before he knew it, half the bottle was gone.

There was no way to keep balance after that, the den's couch his only solace as he collapsed down on it. He hadn't even bothered to turn on the T.V to distract himself, but that meant there was nothing to quiet the bad thoughts. He used to be happy, his daughter idolized him, his wife worshipped him-- or so he thought, before her attitude started to change. Slowly, but surely, neglect seeped into the relationship until its very fabric was torn apart. Anger, fights, divorce-- finalized a year ago, leaving him to raise their daughter alone after Chloe took off with a new lover, returning home to Korea and leaving no address behind. His job paid just enough for them to be comfortable, a teacher's salary wasn't anything amazing but it was enough for him and his daughter together. Thankfully, it was just enough for his whiskey to not be too cheap either.

Ray heard the door to the home open as he lay on the couch, in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs and a white button-up shirt that wasn't buttoned up. He was a handsome man, with a sharp jawline and a 5'oclock shadow, body a bit burly but what father's body wasn't? He figured he kept himself in decent enough shape these days, strong and masculine despite recent turmoil.

He wasn't sure who it was that walked in, or where the hell they were coming from. Far too intoxicated to even think about it. It was a particularly vulnerable day for him, and it showed in how much he drank to numb the pain. A few bottles in already and the man couldn't do much beyond lay down, and stare into the cieling with the T.V. on the in the background.

The whiskey bottle was brought up to his lips again, and a long swig was taken from the golden liquid before it was placed on the floor next to him. If he passed out, he wouldn't have to feel hurt, and that was as good a strategy as any.
​

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[Cat]

xxxx╭ 𓇼 ▕ 𝖱𝖺𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝖢𝗈𝗇𝗇𝗈𝗋𝗌 ​

Raine almost shouted her arrival.

The second she slipped inside, the mood of the house wrapped around her like a thick, heavy blanket. The whiskey in the air, the low, flickering light of the muted TV — it all pointed to one thing. Her chest tightened when her eyes found her dad, sprawled across the couch, his shirt open and clinging loosely to him, his body relaxed in the worst way — the kind that only came after drinking too much and hurting too deeply.

She hesitated for a second, biting her bottom lip, before closing the door quietly behind her. No loud entrances. No sudden noises. Just her, stepping soft on bare feet like she'd always did. Raine smoothed down the hem of her sweater nervously as she walked closer, watching him with that little worried crease between her brows. Today wasn’t a normal bad day. She knew exactly what today was. And she knew better than to leave him alone in it.

Without a word, she crouched by the couch, reaching out carefully to steal the whiskey bottle away, her fingers brushing his hand by accident. Her cheeks warmed instantly.

"You, uh..." she cleared her throat softly, shooting him a tiny, awkward smile, "you're gonna feel really dumb in the morning if you keep this up, dad."

Her voice was teasing but shaky at the edges, like she wasn’t sure if she was allowed to tease him right now. Still, she stayed close, balancing on her knees beside him, close enough that he could feel the warmth of her.

"I was thinking," Raine said, her hand fluttering for a moment before she dared to push some of his messy hair back from his forehead. Her fingers trembled just a little. "Maybe we could make today suck a little less. You know... if you wanted."

She peeked up at him from under her lashes, trying to play it casual and absolutely failing. Her smile turned shy, her cheeks pink as she added, "I, um... I could build you the worst pillow fort ever. Right here. Right over you, if you’re too lazy to help." She laughed under her breath, the sound light and nervous. Then, gathering up a tiny spark of courage, she leaned in just enough to tap his nose with her fingertip — slow, gentle, lingering a little too long to be just playful.

"Your choice, Daddy," Raine whispered, her voice soft enough to almost get lost in the background hum of the house. "You can keep hiding from me... or you can let me... distract you a little."

She stayed there, close and hopeful, heart pounding hard enough she swore he might hear it if he just listened close enough.​

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[Rave]

xxxx╭ 𓇼 ▕ 𝖱𝖺𝗒 𝖢𝗈𝗇𝗇𝗈𝗋𝗌 ​

Shame was a difficult emotion to grapple with. It struck hard and in the gut, climbing its way to the throat where it made the muscles tighten and eyes squint from the erupting feeling. It quickly replaced the sadness that filled him, when he his daughter walk in-- and she in turn saw him in this state. Today was particularly painful, yes, but he never wished for her to see him like this. Of all the misery that surrounded him, of all the tragedy he suffered, she was the silver lining. They fought to stay together, and they succeeded. She was the one thing he lived for now, the reason he got out of bed in the morning, the reason he dragged himself to work, the reason he kept himself strong. Physically at least, and mentally to the best of his ability.

He was blessed with her. Raine was kind, well-mannered, obedient. A perfect angel for a daughter that never brought a boy home or stayed out when she wasn't supposed to. All the more reason he hated the fact that she saw him like this. His lips parted to speak, but nothing came out. At least, not until her walk up and steal his whiskey bottle away. That was his only life-line, except for her. "Hey...that's mine." He protested, his voice a bit sharp, but not yelling, as he rolled over onto his back.

She had kneeled beside him, commanding his attention and letting him turn to face her again, just as her hand stole little brushes against his own...then climbing to his forehead. He found himself instinctively leaning into the touch, pushing his head forward as if to invite more. How long had he been...felt? touched? caressed? He hated that his body ached for that, especially since it was his baby girl that was doing it. "I don't know how that's possible." He admitted, a grunt in his voice, but she did make him a bit...hopeful.

When Raine suggested a pillow fort though, he let out the first laugh of the day, one that came from the chest. It was a genuinely silly idea, but somehow, that just kind of suited her. "A pillow fort. At my big age." He mused, a hint of playfulness returning in his eyes but for a moment. The finger to his nose found him, and he sought out the touch again like a man starved, partially compromised by one drink too many.

"...Alright baby."

He caved.

Knowing, that she was stubborn, relentless...caring.

A whole woman.
​

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[Cat]

xxxx╭ 𓇼 ▕ 𝖱𝖺𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝖢𝗈𝗇𝗇𝗈𝗋𝗌 ​

Raine's heart fluttered when she heard his voice—rough, sharp around the edges, but not harsh. Just raw. Her fingers hesitated for a beat after brushing his, the heat of his skin lingering against her own like an echo. She hadn’t meant to fluster herself, but that’s exactly what he did. Even like this. Maybe especially like this.

She kept her gaze low, lashes heavy as she set the whiskey bottle down out of reach. He didn’t really mean it. He couldn’t—not if he looked at her like that. Not if he leaned into her touch like it was the only real thing he could hold onto. Something in her chest tugged tight, and she tried to swallow it down, but it clung to her ribs, warm and aching.

“I know it’s yours,” she whispered, lips curving just slightly. “I’m just borrowing your bad decisions for the day.” Her hand stayed near his face, but she didn’t push it. She wasn’t brave enough yet. He was so much, even like this—his presence thick in the room, in the air between them. Every breath she took felt like him.

When he laughed—really laughed—it startled her.

Raine’s eyes lit up, soft and wide like the moon caught in a puddle. She didn’t hear him laugh like that often, and certainly not today of all days. Her chest fluttered again, this time with something sweet, something hopeful. And maybe a little flustered, too, because God, he was handsome when he smiled. Even if it was sad underneath.

“I like your big age,” she murmured, teasing him gently but with a quiet sincerity behind it that lingered in the pause between words. “And I think you’d look very dignified in a pillow fort. Regal, even.” Her eyes darted away quickly after that, cheeks warm. She hadn’t meant to say it like that, hadn’t meant to flirt—but it slipped out, like everything else she tried to keep locked up when she was around him.

Then came the words.

Alright, baby.

Raine blinked. For a moment, it felt like the whole world tilted. He’d said it so easily, like it belonged. Like she belonged. Her breath caught and held tight in her throat, and she stared at him for a heartbeat too long, like she was trying to figure out if he really meant it—or if it was the drink talking. But it didn’t feel like the whiskey. It felt like him.

But she didn’t linger on the moment—didn’t let herself get too caught in the warmth of his eyes, or the way his lips had curved just barely into that half-smirk of surrender. Instead, she moved with quiet determination, turning away just long enough to snatch two of the couch cushions, and then a folded throw blanket off the armrest. Her hands were busy, but her eyes kept flicking back to him, as if to check he was still there—still letting her do this. Still watching her with that unspoken something in his eyes that made her chest ache in the best way.

“I warned you,” Raine murmured, more to herself than him, cheeks flushed as she started building. “You stay put. You’re the noble king trapped in your velvet throne room. Or—uh—satin. Whiskey-stained satin.”

She giggled under her breath, kneeling beside him again as she draped the blanket between the back of the couch and a nearby lamp, anchoring it awkwardly with a folded book from the side table. It wobbled but held, and she beamed with quiet pride. Another pillow was tucked gently under his head, and her hand brushed against his shoulder—intentional this time, but barely so. Her fingers lingered, just a second longer than they needed to, before she placed a second blanket over his legs like she was tucking in a child. Or maybe a man who hadn’t been cared for in far too long.

“I know it’s dumb,” she admitted quietly as she started arranging another blanket overhead, creating a little canopy above him, warm and slanted and just a little crooked. “But sometimes dumb things are what help the most.”

The last touch was a small, battery-powered lantern from the shelf—flicked on and tucked gently by his side to cast a golden, cozy glow under the little makeshift fort. Raine crawled back beside him once she was satisfied, the ceiling of the blanket just inches above their heads now. She lay down next to him, close but not quite touching, her pinky nudging near his on the shared pillow. Her voice was barely a whisper now.

“…See? Told you I’d build it over you.”

She didn’t move. Just let her words hang there in the soft hush of their blanket kingdom, as fragile and open as her heart in that moment.​

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[Rave]

xxxx╭ 𓇼 ▕ 𝖱𝖺𝗒 𝖢𝗈𝗇𝗇𝗈𝗋𝗌 ​

Ray didn't remember the exact moment the bottle stopped helping. Somewhere between the second pour and the soft blur of the television light, it had lost its edge—left behind nothing but the dull weight of himself, slumped sideways on the couch like a half-forgotten coat. He could feel the couch springs pressing against his ribs, hear the slow tick of the clock on the wall, but none of it felt urgent. Just... present. Like him. Just barely.

He hadn't meant to say anything. Not to her. Not out loud to his own daughter. But the words had tumbled out anyway, unasked and unguarded, the way things do when you've been quiet for too long and someone finally sits near enough to listen. It had felt small in the moment—fleeting, disposable. But it hadn't bounced off her the way things usually did. She hadn't flinched or filled the silence with pity. She'd blinked like something had clicked. And then, without a word, she'd started moving.

Ray hadn't expected the pillows to come so quick and fast, along with the blankets, to make such a formidable structure.

He watched her with heavy eyes, lids fighting the gravity of drink and weariness, but he couldn't look away. There was a strange kind of intent in her movements—not frantic, not performative. Just… determined. Like she'd made up her mind about something and that was that. A couch cushion vanished from under his elbow. A throw blanket was tugged off the armrest. Then another. Then a book, which made its way to a precarious post as she started cobbling together what looked like the beginnings of a tent.

He didn't say a word. Didn't move. Just watched, vaguely bemused, vaguely...drawn, and deeply aware of the soft hum of warmth slowly threading its way through his chest. It wasn't the drink. Not this time.

When she returned to his side, laying the pillow back beneath his head like it was something precious, his breath caught. Her hand brushed his shoulder—deliberate, maybe. Gentle in a way he wasn't sure what to do with. And when the blanket came next, spread neatly across his legs with the sort of tenderness reserved for people who mattered, he didn't dare blink.

He lay still as the rest of it came together around him—blankets pinned to lamps and furniture, sagging corners and all. A makeshift world, just large enough for two, just crooked enough to feel real. There was no grand design, no symmetry, but every awkward fold felt like an offering. And then she brought the light—small, warm, and golden. Set it beside him like it belonged there. Like he did.

Ray's breath hitched. What the fuck was he feeling just now?

It wasn't much. Just some pillows. Some blankets. A half-collapsed fort like something a kid might throw together on a rainy afternoon. But the weight in his chest—the kind that never really went away—had shifted. Not lifted, not entirely. Just moved enough that he could breathe again.

She didn't talk much after that. Just lay beside him, close but careful, their bodies sharing the narrow space in a quiet that felt earned. Her presence was steady. Undemanding. Like she knew better than to ask for anything but still wanted to give him everything she could.

He stared up at the soft ceiling of blankets overhead, a little uneven, a little low. It swayed slightly with each breath they took. But it held.

And so did he.

"...I'm sorry, Raine. I'm sorry you have to see me like this." There was guilt in his voice, a bit of shame. Yet she was not only offered sadness, but a pathway further towards him. Instead of just beside him, he rolled her gently so that she'd lay atop him, his chest and body her new mattress, her head hovering above his own. By sheer coincidence, or perhaps not, she'd feel her daddy's hardened, throbbing cock pulsating between her legs from their new position. Very little could be hidden when a man was just in his briefs and no more.

"It's just...a hard day...but I really don't deserve you. You are far, far too precious."

He smiled, a hand sliding along her waistline, another rising higher to cup her cheek.

"I love you baby."

​

 

[Cat]

xxxx╭ 𓇼 ▕ 𝖱𝖺𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝖢𝗈𝗇𝗇𝗈𝗋𝗌 ​

Raine lay atop her father in the sagging cocoon of their makeshift fort, the golden glow of a small lamp casting soft shadows across the uneven blanket ceiling. The air was warm, heavy with the scent of old upholstery and the faint tang of whiskey lingering on Ray's breath. Her petite frame settled against his broad chest, her body molding to his like a puzzle piece finding its place.

Her dark hair, tied loosely in a messy braid, spilled over her shoulder, the ends brushing against his collarbone. She wore a faded pink top, the hem riding up to reveal a sliver of her smooth midriff, and tiny white cotton shorts that clung to her hips, the fabric thin enough to hint at the delicate lace panties beneath. Her bare legs, soft and lightly freckled, draped over his thighs, her small feet tucked against his calves. Her hazel eyes, wide and curious, flickered with a mix of tenderness and something unspoken, her full lips parting slightly as she adjusted herself atop him.

The fort was a haphazard masterpiece—blankets pinned to lamps and furniture, pillows stuffed into corners to hold the structure together. The couch beneath them creaked softly, its worn springs pressing into Ray's back, while the blanket draped over Raine's legs felt like a shared secret. The lamp's warm light bathed her skin in a golden hue, highlighting the faint flush on her cheeks and the delicate curve of her neck.

Her breathing was slow but deliberate, her chest rising and falling as she felt the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her. But something else caught her attention—a firm, pulsing pressure against her inner thigh, unmistakable even through the thin layers of fabric separating them. Ray's hardened cock, straining beneath his briefs, throbbed with a heat that sent a curious spark through her core. Her eyes widened slightly, but she didn't pull away. Instead, a playful, almost innocent curiosity took hold, her lips curling into a faint, secretive smile.

Raine shifted her hips, slow and tentative, pressing herself closer until the bulge nestled more firmly against her. The sensation was electric, the heat of him seeping through her shorts, warming the soft mound of her pussy. She bit her lower lip, her teeth grazing the plump flesh as she began to move, a gentle, almost imperceptible humping motion, testing the waters. Her cotton shorts rode up slightly, the seam pressing against her labia, the faint outline of her pussy lips visible through the taut fabric.

Her movements were subtle, disguised as innocent readjustments, but each roll of her hips sent a shiver through her, her clit brushing against the hardness beneath her. Her breathing hitched, a soft, airy sound escaping her lips, and a faint sheen of sweat glistened on her collarbone. The air grew thicker, charged with an unspoken tension, the scent of her vanilla body lotion mingling with the musky warmth radiating from their closeness.

Her hands rested lightly on his chest, fingers splaying over the coarse hair there, feeling the rise and fall of his breathing. She tilted her head, her braid slipping to one side, and her hazel eyes locked onto his face, searching for a reaction. Would he stop her? Encourage her? Her heart raced, but her movements didn't falter, each slow grind more deliberate than the last.

The friction sent a warm, tingling rush through her, her pussy growing slick, the dampness seeping into her panties, darkening the cotton between her thighs. Her labia, soft and plump, parted slightly with each motion, the sensitive flesh grazing against the fabric, her clit swelling with need. She let out a soft hum, almost a whimper, her voice barely audible over the hum of the television outside their fort.

"Daddy…" she murmured, her tone sweet but laced with a teasing edge, her lips hovering close to his. Her hips rolled again, slower this time, savoring the way his cock pulsed beneath her, the thick ridge pressing against her slick folds. Her body trembled faintly, her thighs tensing as she fought to keep her movements subtle, innocent. The fort's blanket ceiling swayed above them, a fragile barrier between their world and reality. Raine's fingers curled slightly against his chest, nails grazing his skin, as she waited, heart pounding, for his response, her body alive with curiosity and a daring, unspoken desire.​

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[Rave]

xxxx╭ 𓇼 ▕ 𝖱𝖺𝗒 𝖢𝗈𝗇𝗇𝗈𝗋𝗌 ​

Ray didn't dare breathe too deeply. Not with her like that—draped over him, warm and soft, every part of her pressing into the aching shape of him. The fort sagged above them, a dim little world stitched together with blankets and borrowed courage, and Raine was gravity. Gentle, slow, unrelenting gravity. She'd curled into him like she belonged there, head tucked against his chest, legs tangled in his. He could smell his baby girl—something sweet and warm and maddeningly hers—and it filled his lungs with something heavier than whiskey ever could. The weight of her thigh brushing his cock was no longer accidental. Not casual. Not harmless.

Her hips shifted again.

Deliberate this time. Measured.

The pressure of her labia and pussy lips parting along the length of his cock pulled a low, involuntary grunt from his throat. He held it tight, swallowed it back like a man trying to keep his footing on loose earth. She had to feel it—the way every inch of him pulsated beneath his briefs, thick and insistent, every twitch a confession he hadn't meant to give. But she didn't retreat. She rolled her hips again, slow and tentative, grinding her pussy down onto her daddy in a way that could never be misinterperted, and it was all he could do not to buck up into her and ruin everything.

She moved like a question. Like an echo of something they'd never said out loud. And fuck, he felt it everywhere. The heat between them grew humid and thick, curling low in his gut. Her skin against his chest, her fingers spreading wide over him, her breath so damn close—it all gnawed at his restraint. She wasn't teasing. Not really. She was asking. Quietly. Bravely. In the only language she could trust right now.

And Roy was coming undone. His hand, until then balled in the throw blanket, unfurled slowly. Moved to her waist. Just rested there at first. Nothing crude. Just contact. Anchor. Permission. Her skin was so soft it almost hurt. He felt the way her breath stuttered, the way her hips responded to that one little shift of his hand, and it sent a bolt of heat through him so sharp it bordered on pain.

He didn't speak. Couldn't. If he opened his mouth now, it would all pour out—want and guilt and the ache of needing something real in a world that had felt fake for so long, and to have it from his own daughter...it would be disaster. Instead, he let his other hand drift up, fingers brushing her braid back from her neck. He pressed his lips there. Barely. A breath more than a kiss.

And that did it.

His hips shifted, rough, but certain—just enough to meet her slow grind, just enough to let her know: I feel it too. I want this too. His cock throbbed, caught between them, aching, the thin cotton of his briefs doing nothing to soften the need. The only thing keeping him tethered was her softness. Her patience. The way she held back just enough to ask, not take. Her cunt was wet. He could feel it, even through the fabric. Her panties must've been soaked now—he could smell her arousal, the way it mingled with the clean vanilla of her lotion and the dusty warmth of the couch. He wanted to tear the shorts from her, bury his cock between her thighs and make her forget her own name—but he stayed still. Let her lead. Let her choose.

She deserved that. Deserved all of it.

And when her lips hovered just above his—close enough to taste the breath between them—he looked up at her with something that burned hotter than lust.

"...Help me, baby."
​

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​

 

[Cat]

xxxx╭ 𓇼 ▕ 𝖱𝖺𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝖢𝗈𝗇𝗇𝗈𝗋𝗌 ​

Raine’s breath hitched, a soft sound that sliced through the humid air of their blanket fort like a blade. Her body, warm and pliant, pressed closer, her thighs tightening around Roy’s hips as if she could fuse herself to him. The dim light filtering through the sagging quilt cast shadows over her face, but her eyes—wide, gleaming, and unguarded—locked onto his with a hunger that made the world outside their fragile shelter irrelevant. Her lips, parted just enough to let out that shaky exhale, hovered above his, and the words he’d whispered—Help me, baby—echoed in her chest like a spark catching dry tinder.

She didn’t answer with words. She didn’t need to. Raine’s hands, small but deliberate, slid up his chest, fingers splaying wide over the hard planes of muscle beneath his worn T-shirt. Her touch was firm now, not the tentative graze of before, but a claim. Her hips rolled again, slower this time, dragging her soaked panties along the rigid length of his cock, the thin fabric of her shorts doing nothing to hide the slick heat of her pussy. She felt him twitch beneath her, a pulse that sent a shiver racing up her spine, and her lips curved into a faint, almost wicked smile.

“Fuck, Daddy,” she murmured, her voice low and throaty, barely above a whisper but heavy with intent. The word slipped out like a secret she’d been holding too long, and it hung between them, raw and unapologetic. Her braid, loosened from their closeness, spilled dark strands over her shoulder, brushing against his neck as she leaned forward. She didn’t kiss him—not yet. Instead, she let her lips graze the corner of his mouth, a tease that was as much for her as it was for him, her breath hot and uneven against his skin.

Raine shifted, rising slightly on her knees, just enough to adjust her position. Her fingers hooked into the waistband of her shorts, tugging them down with a slow, deliberate motion. The fabric caught briefly on her thighs, revealing the delicate lace of her panties, now clinging to her skin, darkened by her arousal. She didn’t bother taking them off completely—just let them pool around one ankle, a careless afterthought. Her pussy, bare now except for the damp lace, pressed against the straining bulge in his briefs, and she gasped softly at the contact, her clit throbbing as it grazed the rough cotton.

She reached down, her fingers trembling with a mix of nerves and need, and tugged at his briefs. The elastic snapped lightly against his skin as she freed his cock, thick and heavy, the head already glistening with precum. Her eyes flicked down, taking in the sight of him—veined, pulsing, impossibly hard—and a low hum of approval vibrated in her throat. “Goddamn,” she whispered, half to herself, her voice catching as she wrapped her fingers around him, stroking once, twice, feeling the way he twitched in her grip.

Raine didn’t wait for permission. She didn’t need it. She positioned herself above him, guiding his cock to her entrance, the slick heat of her pussy brushing against the tip. Her labia parted, soft and swollen, and she let out a shaky moan as she sank down, taking him in inch by agonizing inch. Her walls stretched around him, tight and wet, and the sensation was so intense it bordered on pain—a delicious, overwhelming burn that made her thighs tremble. Her pussy juice coated him, dripping down to where their bodies met, a lewd, glistening trail that smelled of salt and sex.

“Fuck, you’re so big,” she gasped, her voice breaking as she bottomed out, her hips flush against his. Her hands braced against his chest, nails digging into his skin through the thin shirt, and she paused there, breathing hard, letting her body adjust to the fullness. Her clit pulsed against his pelvis, and she rocked forward slightly, chasing the friction, her movements instinctive and greedy.

Raine started to move, slow at first, lifting herself just enough to feel the drag of his cock against her walls before sinking back down. Her thighs flexed, strong and steady despite the tremor in her breath, and her hips found a rhythm—deep, rolling grinds that made her pussy clench around him. Sweat beaded on her skin, catching the faint light, and her scent—sweet vanilla laced with the musky tang of her arousal—filled the air. Her lips parted, moans spilling out, soft and unfiltered, as she rode him, each thrust driving her closer to the edge.

She leaned forward, her braid swinging, and finally kissed him—hard, messy, all teeth and tongue, a collision of need that tasted of salt and desperation. Her fingers curled into his hair, tugging lightly, and she whispered against his lips, “Don’t stop me, Daddy. Don’t you dare.”​

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