James stayed inside me a little longer, breathing hard against my stomach, before he finally pulled out. I felt the warm slide of him leaving, and the slow trickle that followed. He sat back on his heels, looking at the mess he’d left between my legs with that quiet, satisfied expression he always got.
Daddy’s hand was still moving slowly up and down my side. I could feel how hard he was against my lower back—he hadn’t touched himself once the whole time James was inside me.
“Your turn,” James said, voice rough. He didn’t move away. Just stayed right there between my legs, watching. “She’s still dripping.”
Daddy shifted behind me. I heard the sound of his belt, then the soft drag of his zipper. He didn’t make me change positions. Just lifted my hips a little with one arm, lined himself
