Chapter 92 - NINETY TWO

Chapter 92: Chapter NINETY TWO

VINCENZO

The image was so depraved it should have killed my erection. Instead it made me fuck her harder. Made me grip her hips and slam her down onto me while I thrust up to meet her, driving deep, deeper than last night, deeper than I knew was possible.

I wanted to breed her. The word sat in my brain like a living thing. Breed. Not make love to. Not get pregnant. Breed. Like she was something feral I was putting my mark on. Something I was claiming at the most biological level — filling her with myself, planting something inside her that would grow and announce to the world that she was mine in a way that could never be undone.

"Right there, Daddy!" She was close. I could feel it — her walls fluttering, her thighs trembling, her rhythm getting desperate. "I’m going to come—"

"Come on my cock," I growled. "Milk it. Squeeze every drop out of me."

She clenched around me. Tight. Pulsing. Her body locking down on my cock while she came with a scream that echoed through the bedroom. And the way her cunt gripped me — rhythmic, convulsing, pulling at my cock like it was trying to drain me — was designed by nature for exactly one purpose.

I was right behind her. And in that last second before I let go, a thought cut through the haze with perfect clarity.

I was cumming in my daughter. No condom. No protection. Nothing between us. My little girl was going to get pregnant with my child. And I wasn’t pulling out. Wasn’t even considering it. Every primal, depraved cell in my body was screaming to push deeper, hold tighter, pump more. Make it take. Make it stick. Put a baby in this girl and watch her body change with proof of what we’d done.

I flooded her, cumming so hard my vision blurred, my hips jerking up into her, pumping rope after rope into her clenching cunt. More than last night. Harder than last night. Like my body was trying to make a point. I held her hips down, pinning her on my cock, keeping myself buried to the hilt while I emptied into her, and I felt the warmth spreading inside her, pooling deep, filling her up.

"I can feel it," she moaned, her hand pressing against her lower belly. "So much, Daddy. So warm. You’re so deep I can feel it in my stomach."

I pulled her down onto my chest, my mouth feasting on her breast. I covered a hardened nipple between my lips and sucked, tasting the salt of her sweat, feeling the nub stiffen further against my tongue. I sucked harder. Imagining milk. Imagining her swollen and heavy and leaking. Imagining pressing my mouth to her breast in six months and tasting something sweet.

The thought made my cock twitch inside her. Still buried. Still leaking. Refusing to go soft.

"Daddy?" Her voice was soft. Dreamy. Post-orgasm haze.

"Mm."

"Whose do you prefer? Mine or Dr. Moreau’s?"

I bit down on her nipple. Not gently. She yelped, then moaned, her hand grabbing my hair.

Why was she asking that right now? With my cock still inside her, still leaking cum into her, my mouth on her breast. Jealousy. It burned in her constantly — this desperate, possessive need to be the only woman in my world. To own every part of me the way I was starting to own every part of her.

I wanted to tease her. Wanted to poke that jealousy and see it flare. See her rage. Because Angel’s rage was intoxicating — feral and wild and dangerous and it always, always ended with her trying to prove she was the only one who mattered.

"Guess," I said against her breast.

Her lips pressed together. Just slightly. But her fist in my hair tightened until I felt the pull in my scalp. The possessiveness coming off her body was almost tangible — a heat, a vibration, a warning.

She stared at me. Those eyes. Baby blue, bright and unhinged and ready to burn the house down if I gave the wrong answer.

No. She needed to know who was in charge. She had to learn that jealous tantrums wouldn’t get her what she wanted.

I grabbed the back of her neck. Yanking her head back until her throat was stretched and her eyes went wide. My mouth found her other breast. I sucked. Hard. Then bit. Then sucked again. Moved to the other one. Did the same. Back and forth, leaving both nipples red and swollen and throbbing by the time I pulled away.

My cock was hard again. Still inside her. Stiffening as she sat on me with her abused nipples and her flushed chest.

"You, my beautiful little girl," I said. My thumb traced her swollen nipple and she shivered. "I could suck on these all day. These are mine. Not Moreau’s. Not anyone’s. Mine. I’m going to watch them swell when you’re carrying my baby and I’m going to be the first one to taste the milk."

The jealousy vanished from her face. Replaced by something radiant. Beaming. A smile so wide and genuine it made her look adorable, and the contrast — that innocent smile on the face of a girl sitting on her father’s cock with cum leaking from between her thighs — was so wrong it made me throb inside her.

"Then fuck me again, Daddy." She rolled her hips. Felt me hardening. Her smile turned wicked. "Give me your DNA."

"You want my DNA?" I thrust up into her. She whimpered. "You want me to put a baby in you, Angel? You want to walk around this house with your belly round and everyone knowing your daddy bred you?"

"Yes." Her eyes were glazed. Drunk on me. "I want everyone to know. Martha. Jillian. Dr. Moreau. I want them all to see my belly and know that you chose me. That you came inside me over and over until it took."

I sank into her. Deeper this time. Watched her eyes roll back and her mouth fall open and I took us both back down into that dark, forbidden place where nothing existed except her body around mine and the devastating, ruinous knowledge that I would never be able to stop.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​