Daddy's Little Whore
Daddy’s Little Whore – Part 31

KEIRA’s POV

“Remind me why you are not going to yoga anymore?”

It had been a week since Clint went out of state. It had also been a week since I stayed off s*x as a result of his departure. My healing method was now in full swing and even if I still craved s*x like a rabbit in heat, I could control it now.

Or I suppose I could. So that brought me to Natasha’s question.

“I prefer an environment where my yoga instructor is not trying to f**k me,” I said, laying out my yoga mat in the living room. It was a one time thing with the dude which I am trying not to let happen again. “I am going to do indoor yoga instead. See if it works for me.”

If I was going to try staying off s*x, I did not need my yoga instructor posing as a temptation. Besides, Clint promised me a good time if I stayed off s*x while he was gone, and I was eager to know what he had in store for me.

“Okay then,” Natasha shrugged. “Whatever you are comfortable with.”

I drowned out their voices as she approached Brendon in the kitchen who was making something that smelled good. Probably pancakes.

Taking in a deep breath, I exhaled through my mouth again, repeating the action until all the tension dissolved from my body.

Then it flashed through my head. The image of Clint spanking my a*s the way he did the last time that had my bum reddening from the action.

Shit. This was supposed to divert my thoughts away from s*x, but it went right back to it. He plagued my mind whether he was far or near. He was everything I could have ever dreamed of. The way he took complete power over me in the bedroom overwhelmed me.

It was still the beginning of our arrangement. Back then when we made that deal, it had been so easy to give in and just enjoy the pleasure. But I wanted him more now.

When I was done with my yoga, I struggled to get up from the floor. My whole body felt like jelly from the relaxation.

I joined Natasha and Brendon in the kitchen, picking out a slice of pancake from her plate. She threw me a glare I found cute.

“Stop touching my food,” Natasha warned.

“You can’t make me.”

“Are you really deciding to start home yoga?” Brendon asked as I nodded. “Why?”

“I guess Natasha did not tell you yet. I slept with my yoga instructor, so now I am avoiding him,” I said with an innocent smile. “Plus my therapist is out of town for now. I need somewhere to channel all that s****l energy.”

Brendon shook his head in awe. “Is there anyone you have not slept with?”

“Do not be rude. We only did it once. It will not happen again as long as I stop going there.”

“Is waiting for your therapist to get back really necessary, though?” Natasha spoke with a mouth full of food. “You can opt for another therapist. Mr. Homer’s clinic is filled with them.”

I knew that. But if he was not the one handling my case, then I did not want anyone else. It was as simple as that. Was it because we had grown a little bit intimate? Maybe.

I was on the road to recovery because of him. I felt it. Otherwise I would have had a relapse in his absence and hit up one of my previous f**k buddies. They never failed to show up.

“It was my choice to wait,” I replied. “I am going to have a shower. I want those pancakes untouched when I get back.”

“They are not even yours,” I heard Natasha mumble but I was already walking toward my door, closing it behind me.

I peeled off my yoga clothes and tossed them somewhere. My phone lit up with a message and I dove straight for it, expecting an update from Clint on his trip. But it was just a stupid email about a school assignment.

What was so important that Clint had to leave abruptly? We had not spoken in days and I was not okay with it. He was the primary cause of my current s****l frustration.

I sat up on my bed butt naked, turning on my phone’s camera and taking a picture. I had to get his attention one way or the other. One major way to do that was a thirst trap. Men could not avoid those.

As expected, his reply came in seconds later as I smirked at my phone. Too easy. Way too easy. If he was forgetting how much he used to love my body, this was only a friendly reminder.

‘I want to see you touch yourself’ – came his response.

“Well, damn,” I murmured to myself. Anything for him. I fastened the lock on my door and positioned my phone’s camera in front of me as I spread my legs open before it.

The cold air on my wet p***y brought goosebumps to my skin. My nipples were stiff and pointy, partly because of the chills but also because of the strong arousal coursing through my body.

My clit was swollen with need, and I m****d at the slightest touch. I teased myself there, knowing it would not take much to get me to o****m.

I continued to rub my clit teasingly, imagining Clint’s fingers on me instead. My eyes teared up with the desperation I felt until all I could do was gasp out his name.

“F**k daddy, right there…please…” I bit down on my l*p, careful not to let my whimpering and moaning sounds escape the confines of my room.

I lapped myself up with my juices, each swipe of my finger grew more frantic than the previous and my breath caught at the rippling sensations.

Stings of pleasure shot directly from my nipples directly to my clit. It wrenched its way through my body, leaving me a shuddering mess as a loud m**n escaped from my lips.

Gosh, I missed Clint, and could not wait for him to be back. To quench this fire inside of me.