Claiming Daddy Ch. 16

“Let me explain how this is going to work, Daddy,” I said, soft and deliberate. “If you really love me, and I believe you do, you’ll make yourself strong enough to give me what I need..."

After dinner, I insisted on the sofa. Not the kitchen table, not the television glow at a cautious distance. Just me, Daddy, and the kind of soft living room quiet that seeped into your soul and spreads peace like butter over hot bread. Dad hadn’t said a word when I dropped myself against his side, my bare legs tucked under me, my head pillowed on his chest so I could listen to the honest, irregular thump of his heart. He put his arm around me because that’s what fathers do, but even after what we’d shared, I could feel the tremor in his hand. Like holding me close might mean losing everything else.

I’d been relentless all day. Teasing him. Stroking him. Making him beg for me. Driving him to the edge of his endurance. And leaving him with only the promise of future fulfillment. If he wanted me the way he said he did, he’d wait.

We watched the shadows crawl up the walls, the old apartment settling around us, until his nervousness grew too thick for the silence to bear. It should have been a balm for the battered heart that finally could love freely, but something held me back. Some tension in my father that I couldn’t identify, but the thought of it left me cold. I shivered. He coughed, just once, and shifted like he was about to ask permission to move.

I didn’t let him. I grabbed his hand and folded it against my waist, caging it there with both of mine. “You’re not allowed to run away from this anymore, Daddy,” I said, my voice almost a purr. “You have to let me love you back.”

He tried to smile. “You’re the only person who’d call me ‘Daddy’ and then accuse me of running away.”

“I’m the only one who can get away with it,” I shot back. I arched into his touch, willing his body to remember how it felt to fill me, to have me whimpering under him. We were so much more than fuck buddies, but we had a lifetime of not enjoying each other’s body. I wanted to bask in it. “Because I’m your only daughter. And therefore, the only daughter you’re fucking.”

For a long minute, he said nothing. His breathing went shallow, like he was trying not to spook the moment. He played with a loose strand of my hair, winding it and unwinding it around his finger, until finally he cleared his throat again.

“There’s something I want to talk about,” he said. “It’s been… on my mind since this morning.”

I almost laughed. I’d made sure it was on his mind since morning. Biting back my smile, I kept my eyes forward, letting him see just my profile. I liked the way it put him on the defensive, forced him to measure every word. “Is it about how much you want to drill your daughter? Or how much you want to make her come again?”

He squeezed my waist. “Both,” he said. “But mostly the first thing. It’s… look, I know you think I’m some kind of animal…”

I snorted, not bothering to hide the edge in it. “Oh, I know you’re an animal. That’s the whole point.”

He squeezed harder, the bones of my wrist pressing against each other. “You’re not making this easier.”

“I don’t want to make it easy,” I said. “I want you to tell me what you’re really thinking, not just what you think will make me happy.”

He nodded, but I could feel the tension ratchet up another click in his arm. “I’m worried about… well, you know. What could happen.”

I made him spell it out. “You mean getting me pregnant.”

A heavy pause. “Yeah.”

“You’d rather not have a baby with your daughter,” I said, filling in the blank. “Shocking.”

He flinched, but only a little. “Jesse, I… God, I love you, and what we’re doing is already… It’s not just wrong, it’s dangerous. For you. I couldn’t live with myself if… if…”

“If you knocked me up,” I finished, never letting go of his hand. “That’s what you’re trying to say, isn’t it?”

He nodded, swallowing so hard I could see his Adam’s apple bob under his stubble.

“So, what? You want me to start the pill? Or do you want to get snipped?” I said it with a smile, daring him to answer.

“I just… uh… I thought maybe we could talk about it,” he said. “If you wanted to, I mean, it would make it easier for me. That way I don’t have to… hold back. All the time.”

I turned to face him then, folding my body so that I could look into his eyes without anything between us. I ran my palm along his thigh, not quite to his groin, but just close enough that he’d notice the pressure. I let the silence hang for a second. The pressure of my hand on his thigh kept him perfectly still, patting him for emphasis as I spoke.

“Let me explain how this is going to work, Daddy,” I said, soft and deliberate. “If you really love me, and I believe you do, you’ll make yourself strong enough to give me what I need, even if it means waiting. Even if it means wanting it so bad you can’t sleep or walk past me without getting hard.” I leaned into him and kissed his lips tenderly. “You’re my lover, Dad. I want you to want me. I want to feel beautiful and sexy when you look at me. I want you to think about fucking me so often that you forget all other women in the world exist.”

His breath caught. “Jesse—”

“No,” I cut him off. “You don’t get to ask me to make it easier for you. That’s not my job. My job is to see if you’re strong enough to love me the way I need to be loved.” I met his eyes. “I’m your daughter. You’re my father. We’re lovers. This was never going to be easy, Dad. And, quite frankly, I hate the way birth control makes me feel. It’s your cum that could get us into trouble, Dad.” I put my hand over his heart. “So, it’s your responsibility to hold it back.” A smile crept over my lips. “And don’t get snipped. We might decide we want a baby.”

He nodded, once, and then again, slower. He’d never understand, but he could accept it. At least my mother had trained him in one way that was beneficial to me.

“Good boy,” I whispered. I leaned in and kissed him, just the corner of his mouth, soft and slow. His lips parted, and I tasted the bitterness of unshed words. I loved the flavor of his defeat.

We sat like that for a long time, neither of us moving, until the only sound was the crinkle of the leftover cartons on the table and the relentless thump of his pulse under my cheek. When I finally let go of his hand, he didn’t pull away. He just kept it there, cupped against my waist, as if anchoring himself to a world that didn’t exist outside our apartment.

“You’re going to make me pay for this, aren’t you?” he said, not quite a question.

My hand moved a little higher up his thigh. “You need it that way, Daddy. Otherwise, the guilt will eat you alive.”

The night swallowed us, shadows curling around the corners of the room. There was nothing left to say. Just the slow, perfect ache of being exactly where I wanted to be and knowing that I was the only thing in the world he couldn’t ever let go of.

I let the silence marinate, let Dad simmer in the afterglow of my refusal while the blue light of the city started its slow creep across the ceiling. He was staring at nothing—maybe the stack of paperbacks by the lamp, maybe the way my toes absently traced circles in the space between his knees. Whatever he thought he’d say next was already lost to the moment.

“You’re a wonderful lover, you know that?” I said, letting the words roll out slow and sweet. “For a guy who’s never even thought about fucking his daughter before, you’re a fast learner.”

He snorted, but I saw the heat and hunger in his eyes. “I always wanted to be a good student.”

“You’re definitely an overachiever,” I purred. “But I think you deserve a reward for how well you’ve behaved today. Even if you did try to chicken out earlier.”

I slid my hand up his thigh, feeling the twitch of muscle under denim, the way his whole body seemed to vibrate at the anticipation of what I might do. With my other hand, I reached for the zipper of his jeans, slow and deliberate, and watched his face for any flicker of resistance. There was none. His lips parted in a silent invitation, the pulse hammering in his neck louder than any protest.

“Jesse—”

“Shhh,” I said, running a finger over his mouth. “Just let me take care of you, Daddy. You’ve earned it.”

The zipper hissed open, and I reached inside. He was already hard, straining against the cotton of his boxers. I teased him through the fabric for a moment, enjoying the way his hips bucked involuntarily, before freeing him completely. His cock sprang out, flushed and heavy, leaking clear beads at the tip.

“Look at how hard you are,” I purred. “So hard for your daughter.” I forced a hungry moan. “I don’t know if I want it in my mouth or in my pussy. What do you think, Dad? Do you want your precious little girl to suck your cock? Or do you want to fuck her?”

I took a moment just to look at it. At him. My father, legs splayed on the sofa, cock in my hand, waiting for me to decide what happened next. I stroked him, slow and lazy, letting my fingers explore every ridge and vein. Sometimes I squeezed, sometimes I used just my fingertips, barely brushing the surface. It was like tuning an instrument: every touch drew a different note from him, a low groan, a hiss, the almost inaudible gasp he made when I ran my thumb over the slit.

Laughing, I kissed him. Soft. Sweet. Totally in control.

“Don’t worry, Daddy. I’m not actually letting you have a choice.” I leaned forward, my hair falling in a curtain between us, and whispered, “You don’t get to come unless I say so. That’s the deal, okay?”

He nodded, biting his lip so hard I worried he’d draw blood. His breath held. Poor Daddy wanted this so bad and was so afraid I’d take it away from him.

I started slow, with gentle, languorous strokes, building a rhythm that had him shuddering after just a few passes. His cock twitched in my grip, hot and alive, the skin silky with pre-come. Every time I squeezed at the base, I felt his whole body tense, like he was trying to memorize the sensation for later. His hands knotted the sofa cushions, fingers white and desperate.

“That’s it, Daddy. Relax and let your daughter make you feel good,” I said, nuzzling under his chin. “Just enjoy your daughter’s hand on your cock.” Giggled and touched my nose to his ear. “I love having my father’s cock in my hand. Knowing it’s hard because he wants to fuck me.”

I sped up, just a little, watching his chest rise and fall, the way sweat started to bead at his temples. His thighs trembled under my knees, a barely controlled earthquake. I loved the power of it, the fact that I could make him break just by moving my hand a certain way.

“Christ, Jesse.” Dad licked his lips. “I fucking love you, baby. God, I fucking love you.”

He was close already; I could tell by the way his breathing faltered, the ragged whine that crept into his voice. I slowed down, almost to a stop, just to watch his face. The frustration in his eyes was electric.

“Not yet,” I whispered, and let him hover there, teetering on the edge. A slow stroke kept him there, whimpering. “I know. I know. You can do it.”

He groaned, and I felt his cock twitch in protest, but he didn’t beg. Not yet. Daddy was strong. Proud. And that was going to be my greatest weapon.

I stroked him again, this time mixing fast, hard pumps with feather-light touches, alternating until he didn’t know what was coming next. He was panting now, beads of sweat trickling down his chest. Every so often, his hips would jerk up, chasing the friction, but I held him down with my free hand.

“You like when I’m in control, Daddy?” I teased, my mouth just inches from his ear. “When your daughter makes you wait?” I chuckled. “When your pretty, pretty princess turns into a wanton slut and makes you beg for her pussy?”

His answer was a strangled whimper, the kind of sound that was all nerve and no pride. I nuzzled his throat and grinned. Slowed down, making him ache for every step toward the cliff.

The second time he got close, I felt his whole body go rigid, every muscle clenched. He was right there, teetering, the head of his cock angry and purple in my hand. I stopped completely, letting him pulse in empty air.

“Fuck! Jesse!” He threw his head back and cried out in frustration. “I can’t do this, baby. I can’t.”

“You don’t have a choice,” I told him, stroking his thigh. “You’re doing so good for me. Don’t give up.”

I kept him there for a minute, watching his face as the wave of pleasure receded. The look in his eyes was pure agony, but I could also see the gratitude. The submission. He was mine, and he loved it. With a wicked grin in the faltering light of evening, I started again.

This time I used both hands. One at the base, squeezing tight, the other sliding up and down the shaft with deliberate slowness. He gripped the sofa so hard his knuckles were white, his head thrown back against the cushion. The sounds coming out of him were wild and feral, nothing like the careful, measured man I’d known my whole life. He was losing himself, and it was all because of me.

He was so close. I could feel it, the way his cock pulsed and his balls drew up tight against his body. I jerked him, harder and harder, until I saw his eyes roll back in his head.

“You can do this, Daddy,” I told him. “I’m not going to stop this time. You have to just endure it until I decide I want to stop.”

“Oh my God,” he whispered, voice shaking. “Jessie, please—”

Dad shook with the need to explode, but I kept his fuse from reaching the powder. Soft hands. Gentle movements. Quick pumps when he started to come down. Seconds of sensual torture turned into minutes as I kept my father at the pinnacle of pleasure, denying him the plunging bliss of fulfillment.

“It’s going to be even better when you’re inside me,” I told him. His cock throbbed and I hesitated. “You have to learn to keep fucking me when you’re like this. That way I can come and you don’t.”

I stopped, giving him the worst kind of relief. His mouth found mine. He was hungry. Starving.

“I’m not going to let you come,” I whispered. “Tell me when you’re ready.” He took a shuddering breath and nodded. “Do you like it?” I whispered, my breath hot against his ear. “Do you like knowing that you’re only allowed to come when your daughter decides you’re ready?”

He whimpered, then nodded, unable to form words. With glacial slowness, I leaned over and kissed the head of Daddy’s cock. Ran my fingertips up it. Lapped the pre-cum as it dripped from him.

“Tell me what you want, Daddy,” I whispered. “Tell me what you need from your daughter.”

He choked on the words. I could see them trying to climb out of his throat, each one fighting its own battle against shame. Finally, his hand crept over mine, not to force it but to anchor himself to the moment.

“Please,” he said. “Please, Jessie. I need it. I need you.”

“You have me,” I said, keeping my grip feather-light on his shaft. I puckered my lips and blew cold breath against his raging hard cock. “You always have. That’s never been the problem.”

He made a strangled noise, half-cry, half-laugh. “I need to come,” he said. “I need you to make me come. Please, baby. I can’t stand it.”

“You said you’d do anything,” I reminded him. “Isn’t this anything?”

Dad groaned, knowing this was exactly the trap I’d set for him. I traced a circle around the head of his cock with my tongue. Soft fingertips brought him to the brink.

“Do you like when I control you?” I asked, my lips just brushing the head of his cock as I spoke.” He made an affirmative noise, and I grinned. “Say it.”

“I like when you control me,” he said. “I need it. I need you to be in charge. Please, Jessie. I can’t do it by myself.”

I smiled, and let my fingers run up his length, just enough to make him jerk and gasp. “That’s all you had to say.”

He tried to thrust into my hand, but I released him. Left him humping air. The frustrated sigh he released shook like he was on the verge of tears.

“You’re not going to come yet,” I told him. “Not tonight. Not until I’m sure you mean it.”

His face fell, the breath leaving his body in a sob. But then he nodded, trembling, his cock still straining for any kind of release. I wrapped my fingers around it. Kissed the tip.

“Good boy,” I whispered. “You’re getting better every time.”

I watched the defeat settle into his features, and something primal and satisfied purred deep in my chest. This was what I'd wanted all along—not just his body, but his complete surrender to me. The knowledge that he would endure anything, deny himself anything, just for the privilege of being mine.

My mouth engulfed him. Hot and wet, tongue working against his rigid cock. I pushed him deep, forcing him into my throat so I could work him with those fluttering, wet velvet walls. Dad shuddered.

“Baby, I can’t hold it. Jess.” Desperation crept into his voice. “Jesse! I’m coming!”

“No,” I slurped my way off his cock, at the last second. “You don’t come until I say so.” I looked up. “If it’s too much, you should beg for mercy. Beg me not to push you over the edge.” I flicked my tongue at his cock. “Beg me not to let you come. Not to make you.”

He fit easily into my throat again. I let my body rebel, teasing Daddy with the sound of his daughter choking on his cock, heaving and retching to free her throat from his invasion. My head bobbed back down each time, torturing my father with an imminent threat of losing control.

“Don’t make me come,” he breathed. “God, Jesse. I’m so fucking weak for you, baby.” His voice climbed the register as I continued. Desperation made his voice hoarse. “Jess, please. I don’t want to come. I want to be a good Daddy for you. Please, don’t make me. Don’t let me come, Jesse.”

I paused; Daddy’s cock lodged to the hilt in my throat. Pulling back slowly, I closed my throat around him and slurped the thick ropes of spit that coated his cock. My fist pumped him, keeping him at the quivering edge of ruin. I saw defeat in his eyes. Despair. But then… relief. I relented. Released my father’s cock and sat back to watch him come down.

"I love you so much," he whispered, his voice cracked and raw. "More than I ever thought possible."

I kissed his forehead, tasting the salt of his desperation. "I know you do. That's why you're going to be patient for me." My hand traced lazy patterns on his chest, feeling the wild hammering of his heart. "That's why you're going to go to bed tonight with your cock still hard, thinking about all the ways you want to fuck your daughter."

He shuddered at my words, his hands flexing helplessly at his sides. I could see the war being fought behind his eyes—the animal need battling against his devotion to me, and devotion winning. It was beautiful.

"Will you..." he started, then stopped, color flooding his cheeks.

"Will I what, Daddy?"

"Will you let me sleep in your bed tonight?" The question came out in a rush, like he was afraid I'd say no before he finished asking. "I don't want to be apart from you. I know I can't have you the way I want, but I just... I need you close."

The vulnerability in his voice made my chest tight. This powerful man, reduced to begging just to hold me while we slept. I leaned forward and kissed him softly, letting my lips linger against his. My arms resting on his shoulder.

“Daddy, I only have one bed in this apartment.” I winked and grinned. “But you are going to sleep with your naked body holding your daughter’s naked body for the rest of your life.” I climbed into his lap and kissed him long and deep. “And if you’re lucky, you’ll get to fuck her on the regular. If you want that sort of thing.

Daddy’s kiss told me he did.