Page 37 of Protected By Her Daddy

“Five minutes, little bird. If you don’t like it, we’ll play something else, okay?”

I nod.

“Use your words.”

“Okay.”

“No touching unless I say.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Good girl.”

His deep rumble of approval vibrates through me, and the pride that fills me is intoxicating, a potent elixir that warms me from the inside out.

I hear him move, and he drops a kiss on my lips. My hands curl in the sheets as I fight the urge to grab him by the ears and make him kiss how I want—deep and hot and hard.

I jerk when he catches my hand and kisses the pulse at my wrist. The air around me shifts, and then his mouth covers mine again. He sucks my bottom lip into his mouth, sending my heart into a wild gallop. Before I can deepen the kiss, he withdraws.

Frustration coils in my belly. I try to reach for him, but he avoids my clumsy grasp. I could remove the blindfold, but something stops me—the knowledge that I’m actually enjoying this. The anticipation of his fleeting kisses and caresses is incredibly arousing. Sensual. Forbidden.

“You’re playing with me,” I say breathlessly.

“Yes, baby girl.” His breath is warm on my neck, raising an army of goosebumps.

“Has it been five minutes?” I ask raggedly, desperate to see him, touch him.

“Not yet,” he replies casually, nibbling a hot path along my jaw.

I whimper as he kisses the corners of my lips. He smiles against my cheek. The mattress dips as his weight settles behind me, and he lowers the zip on my dress. Cool air drifts across my back as it sags open. The sharp nip of his teeth on my earlobe ignites another rash of goosebumps, and my pulse pounds hard and heavy between my legs.

“Gabe,” I plead, pressing my thighs together on the needy ache.

“Patience, little bird,” he murmurs, sliding the fabric over my shoulders. “Lift up.”

I do as he says, and he strips my dress from my body.

He tenses behind me. “Fuck, I knew this would look amazing on you.”

My cheeks heat, knowing he’s referring to the pink silk teddy he left on the bed earlier. The lacy bra barely covers my breasts, lifting them high for a man’s hands. For my husband’s hands.

“Do you like what you see, Daddy?”

“I fucking love what I see, baby girl.”

His hoarse reply strokes my nerve endings like cashmere. The sound has my belly tightening with desire.

“I wish you could see yourself through my eyes, your beautiful body draped in silk. Your creamy skin. The pulse fluttering in the hollow of your throat. Your hair streaming over your shoulders. I love your hair. Hell, there’s not one damned I don’t love about you. I want to keep you like this forever.”

God, he’s good with his words, seducing me with each syllable.

“Might be a little cold on our walks in the park,” I say with a shaky laugh.

“No one gets to see you like this except me,” he says, his tone possessive.

“No one but you, Daddy,” I whisper.

His touch is light as he traces a finger over one breast to the lacy edge of the teddy. He tugs at the cup, and cool air teases my nipple. His fingers shake as he draws the straps down my shoulders, baring me to the waist. My breath escapes in a whimper when he cups my breasts, gliding his thumbs over the taut tips.

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