Daddy's Little Whore
Daddy’s Little Whore – Part 89

KEIRA’s POV

I slipped down to the floor, my legs quivering nonstop. I felt battered like I had been hit with a baseball bat multiple times. A hand grabbed my shoulder, and I turned to see Clint. He helped me up, and stumbled as I tried to get my bearings.

“Let us get you all cleaned up,” Clint grinned.

The look of satisfaction on his face was not hard to miss.

Clint picks up a towel from the rack and began to dry my wet skin. I felt a bit relaxed, knowing Clint cared enough to take care of me like this.

After a few minutes, he threw a white bathrobe over me, and I began to make my way out of the bathroom. I had truly underestimated how unstable my legs were as I wobbled and came crashing to the ground. I stared wide-eyed and let out a small chuckle. My legs felt like jelly.

I heard Clint chuckle behind me, and I turned to see him clad in a bathrobe which was wrapped around his body, hugging all his features.

“I do not think you would be able to use those legs to walk for a while,” he chuckled.

“And whose fault is that?” I pouted.

Clint shrugged. “To be fair, you did seduce me first, and it was hard for me to hold back, considering how terribly sexy you are.”

My face flushed at his words. Clint had a way of flattering me, and it always caught me off guard. He noticed my reddened cheeks and chuckled at them.

“But, I will take full responsibility for this.”

Clint picked me up from the ground and carried me into his arms with so much ease. Feeling his strong hands around me made me feel a sense of safety. I snuggled into his chest as he walked out of the bathroom and into the bedroom.

He laid me down on the bed and pulled out the hair dryer from the bedside table drawer.

The whirring of the dryer filled the room as Clint dried my hair for me. His fingers raked my hair as he made sure that each strand was completely dried. My eyes slid shut as I enjoyed the feel of his fingers massaging my scalp.

“You like that?” He had asked.

I giggled and nodded in response.

“Shall we have dinner now?” Clint asked as he turned the dryer off.

I nodded, and he picked me up in his arms once again. I laid my head on his chest as he walked into the living room. With long strides, we got to the dining, and I was glad to see that the scented candles had not burned out.

Clint propped me carefully into a chair and immediately slipped into the kitchen. I watched him pick up the box of chicken salad from the dining table and throw it into the microwave. After a few minutes, the microwave turned off, and Clint carefully removed the box from it.

He set down two flat ceramic plates on the counter and began to place the food carefully in each of them. Watching Clint serve the food was quite relaxing. It felt like I was watching a professional chef in a kitchen.

I chuckled at the thought, and Clint seemed to notice me.

“And what is so amusing to you?” He asked with an eyebrow cocked.

“Mm, just the fact that you look like a chef,” I giggled. “It is not exactly an image that fits you.”

Clint chuckled and picked up the plates from the counter. “I guess you are right.”

He walked out of the kitchen and approached the table. He settled a plate in front of me and a glass of water.

“Bon appetit, mademoiselle,” he said in a weird French accent.

It made me giggle, and I picked up a fork, stabbing into a small chunk of meat beside a cabbage. Clint walked over to his large music player and flipped it on. From the speakers bloomed slow, classical jazz music.

The serenade filled the entire house, and for once, I felt completely relaxed. Clint joined me shortly after, and we began to dig into our food. A silence resisted above us, not because we had nothing to say to each other but because there was a feeling of comfort in the silence.

As the jazz music filled my eyes, my mind was forced to recollect the moment’s Clint and I had shared in the bathroom. The intense s*x was something that would not be easy to forget.

I stabbed into some cabbage and threw it into my mouth. My eyes trailed to Clint and the open space of his robe. From the space, I could see his toned chest, and my mind instantly slipped back to how I had run my hands all over that chest.

Clint was like a hungry animal in heat. The way he rammed into me, the way he moved his h**s desperately as he tried to satiate his pleasure, was thrilling to recall. I loved that I could make him like that. I was thrilled that I could make him lose his senses and make him focus only on me.

My hands trailed to my neck, to the marks Clint had imprinted on me. I wanted them to last forever. I wished he had dug deeper into my skin and left a mark that would never fade, even with time.

Even though my p***y was swollen from all the s*x we just had, I found myself wanting more. The way Clint had dug his teeth into my skin and let his hands explore my body was something to remember. I wanted to feel it again, and I knew that I was going to have that opportunity.

I took a few bites of the chicken, and a sense of accomplishment hit me. Sitting here like this, with Clint, was something I had never imagined would happen. But here I was, eating dinner with him.

“Your love is like a rose…” The jazz music filled my ears.

Clint looked up at me and shot me a smile. My heart fluttered like I was a teenager with a huge crush, and that crush had smiled at me. Clint and I finished up with dinner and he offered to do the dishes.

I watched him work at the sink, and I felt a sort of loneliness encroach me. I walked up to him and wrapped my hands around his waist, laying my head on his broad back.

Everything seemed perfect, but what was this feeling tugging at my heart?