Page 137 of Punish Me, Daddy

Most of all, I wanted it to hurt.

“Daddy, please,” I begged.

“What do you need, baby girl?”

“I need—I need you to punish me, Daddy,” I whispered, anxious for him to give me what I asked, but a frisson of pleasure surged through me anyway. “I know I haven’t been naughty, but I want to know what it’s like when my husband punishes his bride, when my king punishes his queen.”

His eyes snapped to mine and I saw a flash of white-hot desire in them. He reached out and grabbed my chin, tilting it up and exposing the length of my throat.

A thrill raced down my spine.

“I will never deny my queen what she needs. Not ever.”

The way he said it—guttural, pulled straight from his core—made my breath stutter. My skin tingled, already anticipating what was coming. His thumb brushed over my bottom lip, slow and possessive. Then he leaned in and kissed me, hard and claiming, like he was tasting the words I’d just dared to speak.

When he pulled back, his eyes burned into mine—darker than I’d ever seen them, thick with heat, hunger,need.

“You want to know what it’s like when your king punishes his queen?” he murmured, his hand slipping down the curve of my neck to my chest.

“Yes, Daddy.”

He offered me his hand. I took it and he lifted me up off the bed to my feet.

“Then you’ll learn, baby girl. Right now. On your knees.”

I obeyed instantly. I didn’t need to be told twice—not when my whole body buzzed from the command and the air between us felt thick and hot.

He stood before me and stripped with terrifying purpose, each piece of clothing removed like a promise, one I knew he would keep. When he was bare, he moved behind me. I felt the heat of him before I felt his hands grasping mine, pulling me up, and then he was everywhere, palming my hips, gripping me hard enough to bruise, pulling me back against him until my bare ass was flush to his thighs.

“You’re not being punished for being naughty,” he said, his voice a dark caress against my ear. “You’re being punished becauseyou asked for it. Youneedto remember who owns every part of you—even the parts that beg to be broken.”

A shiver rippled through me.

“Yes, Daddy,” I breathed.

He bent me forward over the edge of the bed, one hand pressing between my shoulder blades, pinning me with nothing more than his strength and the force of his presence. The other hand slid down to my ass, kneading it, claiming it, before he lifted his palm and spanked me.

Crack.

The first smack echoed through the room, sharp and sudden. It stung—God, it stung—but it was exactly what I’d asked for. A whimper caught in my throat as the burn bloomed hot and raw across my skin.

The second blow landed harder, and then the third and fourth came fast after that. I bit into the sheets, hips arching, my body straining against him—not to get away, but to getcloser. To take more. My skin blazed with the sweet, aching fire of his hand. Every strike drew another gasp, another moan, another wave of slick heat between my thighs that had nothing to do with pain and everything to do with the pleasure burning in my core.

“Look at you,” he rasped, his fingers sliding between my legs, finding me dripping and needy. “Already soaked and I’ve barely even started.”

“Please,” I whimpered.

“Not yet, baby girl. You need to be punished, don’t you? Daddy needs to break you, doesn’t he?”

“Yes, Daddy,” I whimpered, trembling.

“Then Daddy needs to take off his belt, doesn’t he?”

Oh, fuck.

My heart pounded faster.

He stepped back and my whole body went hot with anticipation. I didn’t dare look over my shoulder, but I didn’t need to. I heard him pick up his discarded pants, then the clink of the buckle, the slide of leather, and the quiet rasp ofthe strapas he folded it in his hand.

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