Chapter 192 Midnight in Daddy's Bed
I can’t sleep.
The guest room is too quiet, too empty, too far from him. My body is still humming—pussy sore and swollen from the garage, thighs sticky with his cum even after I tried to clean up in the bathroom sink. Every time I shift under the sheets, I feel the ache, the stretch he left behind, and it makes me clench around nothing. Makes me wet all over again.
It’s 2:17 a.m. according to my phone. Snow’s still falling outside the window, soft and silent, blanketing the whole street. Sophie’s flight is delayed until tomorrow night at the earliest—some freak storm system. She texted me goodnight an hour ago from the airport lounge, complaining about the wait.
I should feel guilty.
I don’t.
I feel hungry.
I slip out of bed in nothing but the oversized hoodie I stole from his closet last year—his scent still clinging to it, faded but enough to make my nipples pebble. No panties. Bare feet on the cold hardwood as I creep down the hallway. His bedroom door is cracked, just enough for a sliver of moonlight to spill out.
Heart hammering, I push it open.
Ethan’s sprawled on his back in the king bed, sheet low on his hips, one arm thrown over his head. The faint glow from the hallway catches the lines of his body—broad chest rising slow, abs shadowed, that thick trail of hair disappearing under the fabric. He’s asleep. Or pretending to be.
I don’t care which.
I pad closer. The floor creaks once; he doesn’t stir. I reach the edge of the mattress, slide one knee onto the bed, then the other. Crawl over him slow, careful, until I’m straddling his hips, hoodie riding up so my bare pussy brushes the sheet—and then him. He’s already half-hard under the cotton, like his body knows I’m here even if his mind hasn’t caught up.
I lean down. Lips ghost over his ear. “Daddy.”
His eyes snap open. Dark. Alert. No surprise—just heat.
“You shouldn’t be in here,” he whispers, voice rough from sleep. But his hands are already sliding up my thighs, under the hoodie, gripping my ass like he’s been waiting.
“Couldn’t stay away.” I rock forward, grinding my slick folds along the length of him through the sheet. Feel him thicken instantly. “Needed you again. Needed to feel you stretch me while the house is quiet. While Sophie’s still gone.”
A low growl rumbles in his chest. One hand fists the hoodie at my waist, yanking it up and over my head in one rough motion. My tits spill free; he palms them hard, thumbs flicking my nipples until I gasp.
“Dirty little girl,” he mutters. “Sneaking into my bed like a needy slut. You know what happens when you tease me like this?”
I nod. Bite my lip. “You fuck me stupid.”
He flips us so fast I barely register the movement—one second I’m on top, the next I’m flat on my back, wrists pinned above my head in one of his big hands. The other shoves the sheet down, frees his cock—thick, heavy, already leaking. He notches the head at my entrance, teases me with shallow thrusts, never quite giving me what I want.
“Beg,” he orders. “Quiet. No screaming this time. You wake the neighbors, I stop.”
“Please, Daddy.” My voice is a broken whisper. “Please fuck me. I’ve been aching for you since the garage. My pussy’s still full of your cum from earlier—want more. Want you to pump me full again. Make me leak you all day tomorrow.”
His control fractures. He thrusts in—slow at first, letting me feel every thick inch splitting me open—then hard, burying himself to the root. I arch, mouth open on a silent cry. He clamps a hand over my lips, muffling the sound.
“Shh. Take it like a good girl.”
He sets a punishing rhythm—deep, deliberate strokes that drag against every sensitive spot inside me. The headboard taps the wall once; he curses under his breath, shifts us so my head’s at the foot of the bed, feet toward the pillows. Now every thrust drives me down into the mattress instead of rattling the frame.
Better angle. Deeper. I can feel him in my throat.
His free hand slides between us, fingers finding my clit—rubbing fast, rough circles. I’m soaked, obscene wet sounds filling the room every time he bottoms out.
“You love this, don’t you?” he rasps against my neck, teeth grazing my pulse. “Sneaking around. Getting fucked in your best friend’s dad’s bed while she’s stuck in an airport. Knowing I’m going to come inside you again. Mark you. Own you.”
I nod frantically against his palm. Tears prick my eyes from how good it feels—too much, too deep, too perfect.
He pulls his hand away from my mouth just long enough to kiss me—messy, claiming, tongue deep. Then he covers my lips again, harder.
“Come for me,” he growls. “Quiet. Milk Daddy’s cock. Show me how bad you need it.”
The command shatters me. Orgasm rips through like lightning—silent but violent. My whole body locks, pussy spasming around him, fluttering so hard he groans like it hurts. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from crying out; taste copper.
He doesn’t stop. Keeps fucking me through it, chasing his own release. Hips snapping faster, shallower, until he buries himself deep and stills.
“Fuck—take it all, baby girl—”
Hot spurts flood me—pulse after pulse, more than before. He grinds against my clit as he comes, drawing a second, smaller wave from me that makes my legs shake.
When he finally stills, he doesn’t pull out. Just rolls us so I’m draped over his chest, cock still buried inside, softening slowly. His arms wrap around me—possessive, protective.
We stay like that. Breathing together. His heartbeat thundering under my ear.
After a long minute, he murmurs into my hair, “You’re staying here tonight. No sneaking back.”
I smile against his skin. “Good. Because I’m not done.”
His cock twitches inside me—already stirring again.
“Neither am I.”