Daniel

She knows that this is exactly what I like. She's wearing one of those long T-shirts that bounces around her thighs as she walks barefoot through the hall, dancing lightly up the stairs while making hardly a sound.

I just catch a glimpse of her as she turns the corner, maybe a flash of her blonde hair flying out behind her. It's almost like hide and seek, or trying to catch a firefly in the forest.

She is my obsession ever since the first time that I saw her, I haven't been able to think about anything else. Definitely not anyone else. She is the only one in the world to me now.

The part of my mind that thinks this is wrong is all but obliterated. At first I was startled by the depth and intensity of my desire for her. I held back as long as I could. But all the while, I knew that eventually I would give in. Eventually, it would be like tapping a vein and finding what was hot and throbbing there.

I squint at the screen of my laptop, trying to make it come back into focus. This new business is also taking up quite a lot of my time. It's the sort of thing that I would have thrown myself into completely, six months ago. Now, I struggle to stay focused on it at all.

It, or anything else.

There's just not enough room in my consciousness for anything but her.

She's upstairs, waiting for me. She knows I can hear her, that I'm acutely aware of her presence.

I only have a little bit more work to do, and now I'm just stalling. I sort of like it, the anticipation. That ache in my core. That sharp tang of pain, right where it meets pleasure. She is the hunger I can never quite satisfy. She is the source of all of this.

And she knows I’ll come to look for her. She knows I won't stop, now that she's teased my attention. I put away my work, loudly snapping my laptop closed. She knows I'm coming for her.

It's late. Past her bedtime. She's already dressed for bed and I can imagine it clearly. The long T-shirt riding up her thighs as she stretches on the bed, throwing her arms back with abandon. The smooth, creamy skin disappearing into thin cotton panties. The sweet blush in her cheeks when she knows I'm watching her.

I take the stairs two at a time, letting my heels hit the treads loud enough that she knows I'm coming. I want her to know, to anticipate as well.

She left her door open for me a few inches. The light that slices through is a honey-colored invitation.

Pushing the door open, I pause to let the scene appear slowly before my eyes. She's already in bed, blankets up to her chin. Her hair is fanned out over the pillow and she blinks me with those wide green eyes, the tip of her nose pink, her cheeks reddening in the low light.

“You didn't say good night,” I observe.

She mumbles something, but the sound is muffled behind the blanket.

“What's that, Kita?” I ask her, tugging the blanket away from her.

She doesn't move as I slowly pull the sheets to the side, exposing her small, lithe form. She tugs the hem of her T-shirt down over the neat triangle of fabric that covers her sweet, bare pussy, pressing her knees tightly together.

“Let me see,” I request. “You know I like to see.”

Saying nothing, she only nods and moves her knees apart just a little bit, just a few centimeters. Her hands push away from her along the sheet, and the hem of her T-shirt springs back up, revealing just an inch or two of pink fabric.

I know all the hidden delights in there. I know if I touch her panties, the fabric will be hot, maybe even soaked through with moisture. Every time. Without fail. She's always ready for me, but she knows I like this moment right before she asks me. Right before she begs me, the moment where every part of me comes alive.

I can already feel my cock jumping, eagerly pointing to her, rigid as a flagpole. A divining rod, seeking her wetness. I can almost feel her sweet, tight sheath enveloping me, squeezing against me, drawing the life out of me.

My fingers drift along the inside of her thigh, pushing her legs open further. She doesn't resist, but her eyes telegraph a sense of urgency and I see her draw her lower lip in between her teeth, like I have so many times before.

“You want it?” I ask her, when I think I can't stand to wait any longer. My thumb draws a line down the fabric of her panties, tracing her seam from the outside. It is hot, almost warmer than I expected.

She nods tightly and I hear her breath coming out in abbreviated, feral pants.

“Say it,” I growl. I lean in closer, letting my fingers drift along the elastic band of the fabric, sliding just the tips underneath.

“I want it,” she whispers hoarsely, lifting her hips to angle closer to my touch.

I look up at her, waiting. She likes to make me wait. I watch her lips part as she draws in a breath to say it and finally press my finger to her wet, slippery furrow as the word I’m waiting for finally slips from her glistening, pouting mouth.

“I want it... Daddy.”