I woke up sore, marked, and emotionally drained.
Daddy had kept his promise last night. He f****d me for hours in his office on the desk, against the wall, bent over his chair whispering dark confessions between every thrust. By the time he finally carried me back to bed, I was a trembling, c*m-filled mess, too exhausted to process everything I had learned.
Now, morning light streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Daddy was already awake, watching me with those intense gray eyes. His hand rested heavily on my small baby bump.
“Good morning, babygirl,” he murmured, voice rough from sleep and last night’s passion.
I turned away from him, curling into myself.
“I don’t know how to look at you right now,” I whispered.
He didn’t get angry. Instead, he pulled me closer, spooning me
