He didn't just drive into me; he claimed me.
The first thrust was an earthquake. It hit so deep, so hard, that the headboard slammed against the wall with a rhythmic, deafening thud-thud-thud. It shook the very marrow of my bones.
"Ah! f**k—yes! Daddy, please!" I sobbed, my voice cracking under the sheer intensity of the friction. Every time he pulled back, the air felt cold, empty—a cruel tease of deprivation—before he slammed back home, filling me until I felt like I was splitting at the seams.
"That’s it, little one," he growled, his voice a low vibration that rattled through my chest. He reached up, his large hand wrapping firmly around my throat. It wasn't tight enough to hurt, but it was heavy, possessive, and electric. It pinned me, kept me steady, like a constant reminder of exa
