SINFUL HOUR COLLECTION: Creaming on daddies spicy erotica

Maddison’s POV

I tug my skirt a little higher up my thighs under the desk and bite the inside of my lip, trying not to let my face show what’s happening. A new chapter of Sinful Fantasies dropped an hour ago and… fuck, I’m already gone.

“Ahhh… yes Daddy! Pound that sloppy cunt,” Mandy begged in the story while Norman pinned her wrists above her head, choking her as he slammed into her so hard the headboard cracked.

I whimper softly, thighs squeezing and sliding together. My pussy is soaked, making that quiet, wet sound every time I shift. God, I can practically feel Norman’s thick black cock splitting me open.

Sigh… “But I’m stuck with these,” I mutter under my breath, holding up my five fingers.

I glance around the lecture hall—everyone’s heads are down, scribbling notes or staring at their laptops. No one’s paying attention. My hand slips under the desk, fingers rubbing slow circles over my clit through my soaked panties.

“Hss… not enough,” I hiss between my teeth, hunching my shoulders like I’m super focused on my screen.

My eyes flick left, then right. Clear.

I hook the edge of my black panties and pull them aside. Cool air hits my slick, puffy folds and I shiver. Using two fingers, I spread my cunt lips wide open, exposing my swollen pink clit completely.

The thrill shoots straight through me. “Fuck, that feels good,” I think, imagining it’s his tongue instead.

Then I feel it—that heavy, burning stare crawling over my exposed pussy like a physical touch.

I don’t look up right away. I let the moment stretch, let the heat of his gaze lick over my clit. When I finally raise my lashes, there he is.

Mr. Marcus.

The new literature lecturer.

He’s standing at the front like he walked straight out of the damn story. Tall, broad, dark skin glowing under the lights. Shoulders that look strong enough to hold a girl up while he fucks her senseless. Thick forearms flexing as he grips the podium, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, veins popping every time he moves. His chest strains against the buttons of his shirt like it’s about to lose the fight. And that jaw—sharp, shadowed, clenched so tight the muscle jumps.

He looks exactly like Norman. Same quiet power. Same big hands made for choking and gripping and owning.

And right now, those dark eyes are locked between my legs. He sees everything—my glistening pink clit, my beefy lips spread wide by my own fingers, the slick shining on my inner thighs.

His throat bobs hard as he swallows. His lips part like he forgot how to breathe. One hand tightens on the edge of the podium until his knuckles go pale.

Fuck, I want him.

I bite my lip, slow and seductive, a crazy idea sparking in my head.

He clears his throat and tries to go back to the lecture, but his voice is rougher now. Barely holding it together.

I push two fingers inside myself nice and slow, letting my tight, wet heat stretch around them. My mouth drops open in a silent gasp as I curl them deeper, hitting that spot that makes my toes curl.

His eyes snap back down. I watch his huge bulge strain against his zipper, thick and obvious.

My eyes flutter half-shut, lashes trembling. A soft, slutty little “Uhh…” slips out before I can stop it, my tongue peeking out to wet my lips.

Every time my fingers thrust in, my hips give this tiny, helpless roll under the desk.

“—FUCK!”

His voice cracks loud across the room.

The class murmurs. “What was that?” “Is he okay?”

Mr. Marcus’s neck flushes deep red. He coughs, shuffling papers he’s already shuffled twice. “Ahem… sorry. Um… where was I?”

Marcus’s POV

Shit… my neck is burning.

What the hell is she doing?

I stare down at the textbook, trying to find where I left off, but the words are blurry. I look up again.

Fuck. She’s still at it.

Her arm moves in that small, steady rhythm under the desk. Her lip is red and a little swollen from how hard she’s been biting it. Those pretty eyes are half-lidded, pretending to stare at her laptop, but every few seconds they flick up to check if I’m still watching.

I am. I can’t stop.

My dick is throbbing so hard it hurts, trapped painfully against my zipper. Every heartbeat makes it pulse. I’m so hard I’m getting lightheaded.

I turn toward the board, pretending to write something, but really I’m just trying to breathe. My forehead is damp with sweat. That image of her spread-open cunt is burned into my brain—pink, dripping, her fingers sliding in and out over and over.

I want to storm down the aisle, grab her by the hair, bend her over the nearest desk and fuck her raw until the whole building hears her screaming my name.

Instead, I slam the marker down harder than I mean to.

“That’s it for today, class,” I announce, voice rough.

I snatch my textbook and lock eyes with her one more time. Her fingers are still buried deep inside herself, and she slowly drags her tongue across her bottom lip in the filthiest way.

A low groan almost escapes me as my cock twitches violently in my pants.

“Miss Maddison,” I say, louder and sharper than I intended. “My office. Now.”

I make it to my office, slam the door shut, and start pacing like a caged animal. My hand keeps rubbing over the massive bulge in my pants, trying to ease the ache, but it only makes it worse.

“Where the fuck is she?” I mutter, heart pounding.

A soft knock at the door makes me freeze.

“Come in,” I say, trying to sound calm as I move behind my desk.