Page 60 of Claimed By the Damned

"Take off your sweater."

Her hands tremble slightly as she reaches for the hem of her soft knit sweater. She pulls it over her head, revealing the simple tank top underneath, her skin flushed, nipples clearly pebbled against the thin fabric. She lets the sweater fall to the floor.

The air is electric. This isn't the frantic coupling of three nights ago. This is deliberate. A conscious step into the dynamic. Her submission now is a choice. Deliberate. She understands.

"Good girl," I murmur, the approval thick in my voice. I reach out, my knuckles brushing the soft skin of her collarbone. "Now, tell me... what doyouneed right now, Little One?"

Her breath hitches. Her gaze flickers down to my mouth, then back to my eyes. "You," she whispers, raw need stark in her voice. "I need you to... take control. Please."

That's all the invitation I need. The rules are laid out. The consent is clear. Now, we can begin. Properly this time.

I cup her face, my thumb tracing her lower lip. "Then let's begin your education." I pause, holding her gaze, my expression serious despite the heat coiling in my gut. "First things first,Little One. Do you remember the safe words? The colors I just told you about?"

Her breath catches slightly, but her eyes remain steady on mine. She swallows. "Yes, Daddy," she whispers, the confirmation firm despite the tremor in her voice. "Red means stop. Yellow means slow down. Green means continue."

A nod. "Good girl. Never hesitate to use them." My thumb sweeps across her lower lip again, feeling the soft tremor beneath. Her eyes are wide, pupils blown, fixed on mine with apprehension and fierce anticipation. That trust, offered so willingly after everything she's endured, hits me harder than any physical blow. It's a responsibility I don't take lightly, even as the need to possess her surges through me.

"Good girl," I repeat, my voice dipping lower, rougher. "Wanting Daddy to take care of you." My gaze drops briefly to where her nipples press against the thin fabric of her tank top, hard and needing attention. The urge to take them into my mouth is intense, but I rein it in. Control. This is about carefully applied control.

I step closer, invading her personal space until she has to tilt her head back slightly to keep meeting my eyes. My hands find her waist, fingers splayed possessively against her sides, feeling the slight tremor that runs through her. "You feel that, Little One? The anticipation? Knowing Daddyishandling everything?"

Her breath hitches. She gives a tiny, almost imperceptible nod.

"Good." I slide one hand up her ribcage, feeling the frantic beat of her heart beneath my palm, while the other moves down, cupping her ass firmly through her jeans, pulling her flush against me. She gasps as she feels the hard ridge of my cock pressing against her belly—hard proof of how much her submission hits me.

I kiss the sensitive spot just below her earlobe, rewarded by a delicious shudder. "Now, let's get you more comfortable. Turn around. Face the desk and place your hands on it."

She hesitates only a fraction of a second before obeying, turning slowly to face the large mahogany desk. The position is instantly vulnerable – her back to me, hands resting uncertainly on the cool wood surface. I step up behind her, pressing my body against her back, caging her between the desk and myself. My free hand comes up to trace the delicate line of her spine through her tank top.

"Perfect," I rumble against her hair, inhaling her unique, faintly floral scent. "Just like this. Feeling safe?"

Another choked whisper. "Yes Daddy."

My hand slides lower, over the curve of her hip, teasing the waistband of her jeans. "You liked it the other night, didn't you? When I touched you. When I filled your little pussy." It's not really a question.

Her head dips in a shy nod, her knuckles turning white where she grips the edge of the desk.

"You want Daddy to touch you again?"

A desperate little sound escapes her throat. "Please... Daddy."

My fingers work quickly at the button of her jeans, then the zipper. The sound is loud in the quiet office. I push the denim down slightly, exposing the curve of her hips and the simple white cotton panties she wears. My hand slides inside, smoothing over the warm skin of her lower back before drifting lower, fingers tracing the elastic edge of her underwear.

She arches instinctively, a soft gasp escaping her.

"Easy, Little One," I soothe, even as my own control frays. "Just let me explore your body. Make sure you're nice and ready for me." My fingers dip beneath the elastic at the back, tracing the cleft of her ass. She whimpers, pressing back against my hand. So responsive. Eager.

"Are you wet for me? Thinking about what I'm going to do to you?"

Instead of answering, she rocks her hips back again, a silent confirmation that drives heat straight through me.

"Let's find out." My fingers slide around her hip, moving lower, brushing against the soft cotton covering her mound. She gasps again, her thighs clenching. Teasing her. Building the anticipation. My thumb finds the seam of her panties and presses gently against her clit through the fabric.

Her breath shatters. "Bas... Bastian..." She almost forgets.

"Ah-ah," I correct gently but firmly, applying a little more pressure with my thumb. "Who takes care of you, Little One?"

"Daddy," she cries out, the word dissolving into a sob as her hips buck against my hand. "Daddy, please!"

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