Cleo
The sexual tension between Drake and I was thick as a knife, although I hadn’t talked him since our interlude in his office. But I could feel his eyes glued to my body whenever we passed each other in the hallway, whenever I happened to brush up against him walking by. He’d grow hard, his body stiffening, streaks of color slashed across his cheeks, but he never stopped to talk.
Meanwhile, I was getting desperate, my body on fire, dying for the big man. I twisted and turned in my bed at night, re-living our conversation in the den. How did he know I wasn’t ready? How could Daddy make that decision for me?
One night when I was feeling especially frustrated, I got up and stormed into the study where Drake sat at his desk, his head snapping up when I banged open the door.
“Daddy, I’m ready,” I said. No further explanation was needed, he knew exactly what I was talking about. But Drake didn’t move a muscle.
“Shut the door Cleo,” he said calmly, his big body giving nothing away.
Once the door was shut, he turned to me.
“What do you want, Cleo?” he rumbled, looking at me, his eyes running up and down my curves. And I blushed then because I was wearing just the thinnest whispers of cotton, a tiny tank and bootie shorts, the tank so sheer that my luscious curves were on full display, my nipples poking out. And the sleep shorts were so short that you could see the bottom curves of my ass hanging out, jouncing this way and that.
“Daddy, I want you!” I said petulantly. “I want you, I want you in my body!”
Drake didn’t react immediately, instead looking at me calmly, those cool blue eyes assessing, in total control.
“You want it, little girl?” he asked. “How bad?”
I was stumped for a second. What to say to this? All of a sudden, inspiration hit.
“So bad Daddy, that I’ll let you take my pussy cherry and my ass cherry,” I said coyly, causing Drake to hiss slightly, a hard gleam coming into his eyes.
“I see,” he rumbled, still not moving although I could see a tent at his crotch now, the fabric of his pants straining, his cock dying to get out. “And which one would you like popped first?”
First? I thought dumbly. But suddenly I was elated with joy. If Drake was asking me which one I wanted first, then it meant he was going to take me, I was going to feel his huge penis inside, my virginity gone.
And slowly, oh so slowly, I sauntered over to his chair. Cocking a hip sassily, I stood between the vee of his legs before running my fingers through that ink-black hair, bending down to whisper against his lips.
“Daddy, it doesn’t matter which cherry you pop first. Just as you long as you take them both,” I mewled, and suddenly found myself sprawled across his lap face down, my boobs and stomach mashed against his legs, my butt hanging off the edge.
“Oof!” I squealed. “What the?”
But a smack descended on my left cheek, leaving it red and stinging.
“Ouch, what’d you do that for?” I shrieked, turning halfway to look at the big man. “Why’d you do that?”
But Drake frowned at me, pinning me down.
“You do as Daddy says,” he rumbled. “And you’ve been a bad, bad girl, Cleo, not answering Daddy’s question. Now which one do you want popped first?” he asked again.
“Daddy, I thought the question was just rhetorical,” I squealed, trying to explain myself. But without further ado, another slap rang out, this time on my right cheek.
“Which one?” he ground out harshly.
And my body flooded with sensation because Drake was now pulling my shorts down so that they were mid-thigh, my peachy orbs on display, my pink slit running wetly.
“Daddy,” I tried again, “I want …” but my sentence ended in a languorous moan as Daddy trailed his finger over my slit, dipping in the wetness, touching my little nub for a moment, caressing it before moving to my ass.
But I still hadn’t answered his question and this time Drake was fast. He flipped me over so that I was face forward on his lap and when he slapped me again, it was on my pussy.
“Ohhh!” I whined. It felt so good, my little clit vibrating from the touch, the way his fingers immediately smoothed over the sting, running through my folds. “Ohhh!”
“Baby girl,” whispered Drake harshly, his eyes never leaving my face. “Once more. Which cherry do you want Daddy to pop first?”
And without even thinking about it, I blurted, “Pussy! Pop my pussy cherry first, please Daddy!”
And Drake finally dropped a kiss on my clit, flicking it with his tongue, murmuring against my cunt.
“That’s right baby girl, when Daddy asks you a question, you answer right away,” he rumbled, lapping at my pussy. I heaved and gasped on his lap, my voice becoming a whine of pleasure as he licked my pinkness, pulling my labia apart to sample my clit, tease me a bit before settling into a deep suckle.
“Oh,” I moaned, writhing on his lap, “Yes, Daddy, please!”
By now, my tits had fallen out of my tank and I was playing with my nipples, pulling and twisting them, rolling the hard pebbles between my fingers.
But suddenly Drake slapped my pussy again, making me jerk up with a shocked gasp before melting again into a puddle, every nerve on fire.
“Daddy,” I panted, “what’d I do this time?”
“You don’t touch yourself until I tell you to,” he ground out, eyeing my breasts possessively. “Those tits, that ass, that cunny, they belong to me,” he said coolly. “No one touches them until I say so, and that includes you.”
My face colored. Oh god, Drake was so possessive but it made me feel fantastic inside, I wanted it so badly, wanted to sample him, feel him in me even more. And suddenly I had an idea.
Slowly lifting a knee I looked him in the eye, baring my cunt to him, the pink pulsing and slick.
“Daddy, you know I’m a virgin still,” I reminded him coyly, holding my pussy lips apart, giving him a view up my pulsing channel. “I just have one request. Will you lick my hymen before it breaks?”