Daddy, please let me cum
THE faint glow of the kitchen light barely pushed back the pre-dawn gloom. Claire hunched over the dining table, a textbook spread open, the thin fabric of her nightshirt clinging to her skin. The chill of the house seeped into her, but a different kind of heat began to prickle the back of her neck. A shadow stretched long and distorted across the polished wood, then enveloped her.
A hand, large and warm, settled on her shoulder. Her breath hitched.
"Well, well, what have we here? A studious little girl, or just looking for attention?" Finn’s voice, a low rumble, vibrated against her ear, too close. He leaned in, his scent—a mix of stale whiskey and something musky, distinctly male—filling her nostrils.
She flinched, pulling her shoulder away, but his grip tigh
