The air on the balcony is thick and warm, clinging to my bare skin like a second layer of heat. I’m completely naked, standing at the railing, my fingers curled around the cool wrought iron. You’re behind me, still dressed in your dark jeans and that thin grey t-shirt that does nothing to hide the shape of your body. I can feel your eyes on me, tracing the curve of my ass, the dip of my spine, and it makes my pussy clench on nothing but the humid night air.
“You wanted to be seen, didn’t you, Scarlett?” you murmur, your voice a low growl that vibrates against the back of my neck. You haven’t touched me yet, and the anticipation is a live wire under my skin. “Standing out here like a fucking offering.”
I swallow, my throat dry. “Yes, Daddy.”
That word. It hangs between us, thick as the scent of jasmine from the garden below. I hear your sharp inhale. You step closer, and I can feel the heat radiating off you, even through the inch of space you leave between our bodies. Down on the street, a car passes, headlights sweeping across the building’s facade. For a blinding second, I’m illuminated, a pale ghost on the balcony. Anyone looking up would see everything: the tight buds of my nipples, the shaved smoothness of my mound, the way my thighs are already slightly parted. The car doesn’t slow, but my heart slams against my ribs.
Your hand finally lands on my hip, a heavy, possessive weight. Your thumb digs into the soft flesh just above my ass. “Good girl. Let them see what’s mine.”
You don’t waste time with soft caresses. Your other hand comes around, palm flat against my stomach, fingers splayed low. They graze the top of my slit, and I jolt, a whimper escaping my lips. You chuckle, a dark, satisfied sound. “So wet already, and I’ve barely fucking touched you. Such a needy little slut for your Daddy.”
“Please,” I whisper, pushing my hips back, trying to find the hard ridge of your cock through your jeans. I find it, grinding my bare ass against the rough denim.
You reward me by sliding your middle finger down, parting my slick folds. You circle my clit, once, twice, with a pressure that’s just shy of enough, and my knees buckle. “You don’t get to come until I say. You don’t get to do a goddamn thing until I let you. Understand?”
“Yes, Daddy,” I gasp, my knuckles white on the railing. The danger of it, the sheer exposure, has every nerve in my body screaming. A light is on in the apartment building opposite. A window is open. Someone could be watching a late-night movie, glance up, and see a thirty-one-year-old man finger-fucking his eighteen-year-old toy on full display.
You push two fingers inside me without warning, a sudden, deep invasion that makes me cry out. The sound is too loud, a sharp note in the quiet night. Your other hand immediately clamps over my mouth, your palm muffling my moans. “Quiet,” you hiss against my ear, your stubble scraping my sensitive skin. “Unless you want an audience to hear how much of a desperate little whore you are.”
You fuck me with your fingers, a relentless, curling rhythm that hits a spot deep inside that makes my vision spark. Your thumb presses down on my clit, grinding in a tight circle, and the dual sensation is overwhelming. My hips buck against your hand, my body chasing an orgasm you haven’t authorized. The wet, obscene sounds of your fingers plunging in and out of my soaked pussy seem amplified by the open space.
“Look at you, fucking yourself on my hand,” you growl, removing your hand from my mouth to fist it in my hair, yanking my head back. “Is this what you wanted? To be my little public cumslut?”
“Yes, fuck, yes, Daddy,” I babble, the words tumbling out as the pressure builds, a tidal wave threatening to crash. “I’m your whore. Just yours.”
You pull your fingers out just as I’m on the precipice, leaving me empty and aching, a frustrated sob catching in my throat. I hear the metallic rasp of your zipper, the rustle of fabric. Then I feel the hot, blunt head of your cock nudging against my entrance, smearing my own wetness all over my swollen lips. You don’t push in. You just tease, sliding the thick tip up and down my slit, bumping my clit, coating yourself in my arousal.
“Beg for it,” you command, your voice strained. “Beg for this dick on a balcony where everyone can see you get split open.”
“Please, Daddy, fuck me,” I plead, my voice cracking with pure, unadulterated need. “Please put your big dick in my tight little pussy. I need it. I need you to fill me up.”
That’s all it takes. With one brutal, glorious thrust, you bury yourself to the hilt inside me. I scream, but the sound is swallowed by the night as you drive into me, stretching me so completely it borders on pain, but it’s the best fucking pain I’ve ever felt. You set a punishing pace, each stroke a deep, claiming thrust that rocks me against the railing. The metal is cold against my stomach, a sharp contrast to the inferno where we’re joined.
You grab my hips with both hands, using the leverage to pull me back onto your cock with every savage pump. “Take it. Take every inch of your Daddy’s dick. This pussy belongs to me.”
My mind goes blank. There’s nothing but the feeling of you filling me, the sound of our skin slapping together, your grunts mixing with my high-pitched, desperate moans.