Make Me Moan, Daddy-Chapter 107

DOMENICO

The windows were fogged, the air thick with the smell of sex and her vanilla body lotion. Reina was still on top of me in the driver’s seat, knees digging into the leather on either side of my hips, her shorts long gone, top rucked up so her tits were bare and bouncing with every ragged breath.

My cock was still inside her, softening slowly after I’d already come once—deep, hard, flooding her until it leaked out around us. She was trembling, pussy fluttering weakly around me like aftershocks.

I should have been done. Satisfied. Calm.

I wasn’t.

I’d told her—no, I’d told myself—I was fine with this. Fine being her fuckboy, her secret, the man who made her come harder than any man ever could but never asked for more. No labels. No demands. No jealousy. I’d said the words out loud like they meant something.

They didn’t.

Because right now, with her wedding ring pressing cold against my collarbone where her hand rested, all I could see was Paolo’s face. The way she’d smiled at the salespeople while I stood there like a fool, helping pick his anniversary gift. Paying for it. Watching her play perfect wife while my come was still drying on her thighs from earlier.

The jealousy hit like a fist to the gut—hot, ugly, unstoppable. I had no right to it. None. But I couldn’t stop it.

I gripped her ass with both hands, fingers bruising, and slammed up into her hard enough to make the car jolt.

She cried out, sharp and surprised. "Domenico!"

I didn’t let her finish. I fucked her.

Raw. Furious. No buildup, no gentleness. Just deep, punishing strokes that made her gasp every time I bottomed out. The seat creaked under us. Her slick mixed with my earlier release made every thrust loud and obscene—wet slaps echoing in the confined space. The car rocked visibly now, suspension groaning.

She came fast the first time. Her pussy clamped down like a vice, walls rippling, milking me while her head fell back and a broken moan tore from her throat. Tears welled up immediately—hot, shining tracks down her cheeks. Not pain. Overwhelm. The kind of tears that spill when the pleasure is so intense it short-circuits everything else. She shook violently, thighs quivering, nails scoring my shoulders through my shirt.

I didn’t slow. I fucked her through it, dragging the orgasm longer, making her ride the edge until she was sobbing.

"Daddy! Hmmph fuck, too good... please!"

I leaned forward, lips brushing her ear. I caught the soft lobe between my teeth and bit down—hard. Hard enough to make her whimper and arch, hard enough that she’d feel it tomorrow. I held the bite as I growled low against her skin.

"When you present that gift to him tomorrow," I rasped, voice thick with rage and possession, "you’ll remember how good I fucked you. How you wept on my cock while I filled you up. Every time he smiles at you, every time he touches that watch, you’ll feel me dripping out of you."

She moaned, loud, wrecked, fresh tears spilling faster. Her pussy fluttered hard around me again, second orgasm already coiling tight. I could feel it building, the way her body tensed, the way her breaths turned into little desperate sobs.

I gave her everything. Harder. Faster. Grinding my pelvis against her clit on every brutal upstroke, making sure she felt every inch, every vein. The angle was awkward, my back cramped against the seat, but I didn’t care. I wanted her marked inside and out. Wanted her sore. Wanted her ruined for anyone else.

She shattered again.

Her second orgasm hit like a wave breaking. Back arched, tits thrust forward, mouth open in a silent scream that cracked into full, heaving sobs. Tears streamed freely—pleasure tears, release tears, the kind that come when someone owns your body so completely you can’t hold back a single thing. She was shaking apart in my arms, pussy pulsing wildly around my cock, milking me, begging without words.

I fucked her through every pulse, every sob, chasing my own end now. Jealousy and love and fury twisted together until I couldn’t tell them apart.

The thought came unbidden, dark and obsessive, looping in my head like a prayer:

I hope it reaches. I hope my come sinks deep enough this time. I hope it catches. I hope she carries my child—something permanent, something undeniable, something that ties her to me forever and leaves him with nothing he can claim.

I slammed up one final time, burying myself as deep as humanly possible, and came.

It was blinding. Thick ropes of heat pulsing into her, flooding her womb, spilling out because there was no more room. I groaned her name—low, guttural—hips jerking as I emptied everything. She whimpered, pussy clenching weakly one last time, drawing out the last drops like her body was greedy for it.

I stayed buried inside her. Didn’t pull out. Just held her hips flush to mine, grinding slow circles to push it deeper while she trembled and cried softly against my neck.

Her tears wet my shirt. Little hiccuping breaths. Mascara streaks on her cheeks. She looked beautifully destroyed.

I finally softened enough to ease back, but I kept one arm around her waist, the other sliding up to cup her face. I thumbed away a tear, tasting salt on my skin.

"You good, princess?" My voice came out rougher than I meant.

She nodded shakily, voice cracked. "So good... I couldn’t... it was too much. In the best way."

I pressed my forehead to hers, breathing her in. The jealousy still simmered low, but holding her like this dulled it a fraction.

"Good," I murmured. "Keep that feeling. On your anniversary, when you’re handing him the watch, when he kisses your cheek—remember this. Remember who really owns this pussy right now."

She shivered, a weak clench around my softening cock.

"I will," she whispered. "Every second."

I helped her readjust—pulled her top down, wiped her thighs with my shirt sleeve, kissed the bite mark on her ear gently now. She looked wrecked in the best way: swollen lips, messy hair, thighs glistening, eyes glassy and soft.

I started the engine.

She curled into my side as I drove, head on my shoulder, fingers laced with mine. That damn ring pressed against my knuckles.

I stared at the road, tasting her tears still on my lips, and let the hope burn quietly inside me.

One day, maybe. One day she’d be mine in every way that mattered.

For now, this was enough.

Almost.