Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 31664 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 158(@200wpm)___ 127(@250wpm)___ 106(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 31664 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 158(@200wpm)___ 127(@250wpm)___ 106(@300wpm)
But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t know her place. She’s Daddy’s girl and Papa’s girl, no matter when or where. I place my hand on her sequined thigh, and Flint does the same.
Her eyes flash and she blushes. “Here? Now?”
I nod and so does Flint. She’s learned to be a very good girl. Does as she’s told. Always.
Except when she doesn’t. But that’s just her and she likes a little funishment now and then.
But before standing, she double-checks that the boys are good. They’re with their nanny, after all, whose is as ferocious and caring a nanny as there is on the entire goddamned earth.
“Okay,” Isabel whispers, pressing her hands on top of ours, and then she stands up to go to the bathroom.
Flint and I watch her go, watch every swing of her hips, every bounce of her blond curls, every mouthwatering valley and curve. She’s filled out a bit more since she had the boys. Just a little less than a size fourteen now. And more beautiful than ever.
Once she’s been gone for a few minutes, Flint and I follow. We find her in the women’s bathroom, and we lock the door behind us. She takes her position over the sink, just like on our wedding day, and hikes up her dress again, offering her ass and pussy, spreading her cheeks wide to reveal her beautiful swollen slit and tight little asshole.
Fuck.
We’ve settled into a routine with her body. Rock, Paper, Scissors isn’t necessary anymore. We take turns fucking her ass and cunt, and tonight I’m in her pussy and Flint’s got her tight little anus. We both work our dicks, watching her hips sway and her juices thicken.
Flint signals to her with a glance. “Purse.”
She smiles, blushing, and slides it over on the granite countertop. He unsnaps the buckle and takes out a travel-size bottle of lube, which he squirts all over her asshole, making her groan.
“Know what the traditional fifth anniversary present is, baby girl?”
She lifts her eyes to mine in the reflection. “Paper?”
I shake my head, working my length, adjusting my balls.
“Wood,” Flint says, laughing, and tosses the lube aside.
She laughs a little, showing off her dimples. “Seems like I’m about to get all the wood I can handle, then.”
“Fucking right,” Flint says.
And I smile back at her with a possessive wink.
Then I hike her up high on the sink, opening her wide. And without warning, without talking, we lift her into position and push into both of her wet holes. Owning her. Keeping her. Claiming her. As our baby girl. Forever.