please daddy

ISADORA POV

The dining room was elegant and well arranged.

We settled in the sitting room as the servants arranged everything.

Marcus' eyes remained on his phone and mine? They remained glued on the door where Richard would be making his entrance from.

I didn't have to wait for long before he showed up, his muscles flexing with each step he took.

Unable to stop myself, I watched his movements, drool almost rolling down my lips.

When the head maid announced that everything was set, we moved to the dining room.

Marcus pulled out a chair for me.

It was next to Richard's seat at the head of the table. I caught the flicker of something in Richard's eyes as I sat down, the crimson dress riding up my thighs as I settled into the chair.

"Wine, Isadora?" Richard asked, his voice perfectly controlled as he reached for the bottle.

"Please," I said sweetly, meeting his gaze.

He poured, his hand steady, but I saw the way his eyes dropped to my neckline, lingering for just a second too long before he looked away.

Marcus sat across from me, already on his phone, scrolling through messages with a slight frown.

"Work?" I asked, not really caring.

"Hmm?

It's a client issue," Marcus muttered, not looking up.

He could be lying but oh well, I didn't give a fuck.

The only fuck I gave was when Richard would stretch my walls, filling my greedy cunt with his thick cock and driving me to oblivion.

Richard set the wine glass in front of me, and our fingers brushed sending a jolt straight to my core.

"Thank you," I whispered.

"You're welcome," he replied, his voice dropping an octave.

"This looks wonderful, Dad," Marcus said, finally putting his phone down. "Your cook outdid herself."

"She did," Richard agreed, cutting into his chicken. His eyes slid to me. "I hope everything is to your liking, Isadora." He muttered and oh god, that look had my cunt gushing.

"Everything is perfect," I said, my voice deliberately breathy.

We continued with our meal when I felt it…the lightest brush of fingers against my knee.

I nearly jumped, my hand tightening on my fork.

Richard's face remained impassive as he took a sip of wine, but his hand stayed on my knee.

His fingers traced lazy circles through my bare skin where the dress had overridden.

His fingers stilled for just a fraction of a second before sliding higher up my thigh with agonizing slowness.

"How was work this week, Isadora?" Marcus asked, oblivious to the kind of thing his father was doing to my needy body.

I swallowed hard, trying to focus. "It was... good.

I'm working on a commission for…"

Richard's fingers slid higher, and I lost my train of thought completely.

"For?" Marcus prompted.

"For a client," I finished lamely, shifting in my seat.

Richard's hand squeezed my thigh in warning to stay still and I forced myself to remain motionless as his fingers crept higher.

"That's great," Marcus said, already distracted again. "Dad, did you talk to the board about the merger?"

Richard launched into a business discussion with his son, his voice perfectly calm and professional, while his fingers finally reached the apex of my thighs.

I bit the inside of my cheek hard enough to taste blood when he discovered how wet I was.

"Christ," Richard muttered under his breath, so quietly only I could hear.

Marcus looked up. "What was that?"

"Nothing," Richard said smoothly. "Just remembered something I need to handle tomorrow." He lied with a straight face.

Fuck!

His fingers circled my entrance, gathering my wetness, and I gripped my wine glass so hard I thought it might shatter.

"Isadora, are you alright?" Marcus asked, frowning. "You look flushed."

"I'm fine," I managed, my voice strained. "Just a bit warm."

"I can turn down the heat…" Marcus started to stand.

"No!" I said too quickly. "No, I'm fine. Really."

Marcus sat back down, shrugging, and returned to his conversation with Richard about stock portfolios and market trends.

Richard's finger pushed inside me, making my thighs tremble.

He pumped it slowly while discussing quarterly earnings with his son like nothing was happening.

I took a bite of chicken I didn't taste, sipped wine I didn't register and nodded along to a conversation I couldn't follow.

All this while, Richard's finger worked inside me, curling to hit that perfect spot, his thumb brushing against my clit

My breath came faster, my cheeks flushed darker and my pussy clenched around his finger, desperate for more.

Then… he added a second finger.

I couldn't stop the small gasp that escaped my lips.

Both men looked at me.

"Sorry," I said quickly. "I bit my tongue."

Marcus looked concerned but Richard looked hungry.

"You should be more careful," Richard said, his voice dark with double meaning. His fingers thrust deeper, harder.

"I'll try," I breathed.

The conversation resumed with Marcus talking about a new client and Richard responding with appropriate questions and comments.

Under the table, he finger-fucked me with increasing intensity.

I could feel it building…that familiar tightening pleasure coiling in my core, ready to snap. I was so close, so fucking close…

Richard withdrew his fingers completely.

I nearly whimpered out loud, biting down hard on my lip to keep silent.

He brought his hand above the table, reaching for his wine glass with those same fingers that had just been inside me, and took a slow sip.

My pussy throbbed with denial, empty and aching.

"Excuse me," I said, standing abruptly. "I need to use the restroom."

"It's down the hall, second door on the left," Richard said, his eyes locked on mine.

"I know where it is," I replied, my voice sharper than intended.

I walked out of the dining room on shaking legs, but I didn't turn toward the bathroom.

Instead, I headed for the stairs.

I'd been in this house enough times to know the layout. The master bedroom was on the second floor, at the end of the hall.

It was Richard's room.

I pushed open the door and stepped inside, closing it behind me. The room was exactly as I'd imagined.

My heart was racing as I walked to the bed and climbed onto it.

I lay back against the pillows, letting my legs fall open, the crimson dress riding up to expose my bare pussy…wet, glistening and desperate.

I waited.

It didn't take long before I heard his footsteps in the hallway.

A moment later, the door opened and Richard stepped inside.

He stopped when he saw me sprawled on his bed, legs spread and pussy on full display.

For a long moment, he just stared, his chest rising and falling with harsh breaths and his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

"Isadora," he said, my name coming out like a warning or should I sa like a prayer.

"You stopped," I said, my voice breathy with need. "You got me so close and then you stopped."

"I told you," Richard said, closing the door behind him and locking it. "You don't come until I say you can."

"Then say it," I begged, sliding my hand down my stomach toward my aching pussy. "Please, Daddy, I need…"

I didn't get to finish before his voice filled my ears.

"Don't you fucking dare." He roared, his voice cracking like a whip, freezing me.

Richard crossed the room in three long strides and grabbed my wrist, pinning it above my head.

"This pussy belongs to me," he growled, his free hand sliding between my legs, fingers parting my folds. "And you don't touch what's mine without permission."

"Then touch me," I whimpered. "Please, Daddy, I'm so wet for you."