Page 16 of Submitting to Daddy
“Theydidn’t bite,” she firmly insists before softening her voice. “Youdid.”
I exhale, slow and ragged.
She’s right.
“I’m trying to protect you,” I respond, finally.
She laughs, and I can’t miss the animosity in it. “From what? This place? Your world? Oryou?” I don’t answer, because I’m not certain anymore. I step closer, and this time, she doesn’t move. Reaching out, I brush her hair from her face, my fingers lingering at her temple. Her breath stutters.She might be denying it, but she wants this. I can see it in the tight line of her jaw and the way her gaze keeps dropping to my mouth.
“I don’t play games,” I confess softly.
“That’s a lie,” she whispers with a slight smirk, her tone nearly playful.
“Not with you. I think I’ve been pretty clear about what I want. I’m desperately trying to respect that you don’t want what I do.”
She swallows hard and gestures at the small space between us. “Then what is this?”
“It’s a line,” I clarify. “One I’m fighting not to cross, but you’re making it fucking impossible.”
She leans in just enough that her words blow over my jaw. “Then why does it feel like you already did?”
“Because I did.” Hell, I ran past it the moment I grabbed her wrist and dragged her away from men willing to spend a fortune for a minute of her time. And I want to go even further, but I know how this ends. My world swallows innocent women like her whole. My mom and Eavan are a testament to how bleak it can be for them. I lost one far too soon and did deplorable things to save the other. I can be the monster who ruins her or the one she’s afraid of. Those are the only options—there is no middle ground—and they both feel like she loses. There is no safe option to allow myself the indulgence of her, but I’m so fucking selfish in my need for her that, at this moment, I don’t care.
I’m going to fucking destroy her…
My hand trails down the side of her face, and I wrap it around her throat. “The dances. The texting. Even this,” I gravelly whisper, using the firm hold around her slender neck to walk her backward until she is pressed as firmly against the door as I am to her. She stares up at me, her pouty lips parted just enough to be inviting. “They aren’t shit compared to what I’m thinking about right now.” Leaning in until I’m a breath from kissing her, I continue, “Or what you are.”
The coolness of the door is jarring against my bare skin. My breath hitches, and I’m uncertain whether it’s from the icy steel at my back or the way his declaration rippled down my spine.
I don’t breathe. At least, not properly. Not in a way that reaches my lungs. I can’t, with his fingers laced around my throat and his heated breaths feathering over my mouth. With him this close, I don’t know if I’m frozen in fear or in want.
The line between us has grown so fucking thin, you probably need a microscope to find it.
His fingers, wrapped around my neck, aren’t pressing or tight. They’re controlled, not forceful. They’re desire wrapped in reverence—it’s dominance. He’s touching me like I’m alreadyhis, like he’s trying to memorize the way I feel in his hands before he pushes this moment too far.
And God, I want him to.
His eyes not leaving mine, he stares down at me with the insistence of someone who knows what surrender looks like—waiting for a sign of mine. My heart is pounding so loudly, I’m certain he can hear it as clearly as I can. He definitely can feel it thudding beneath his fingertips.
I tilt my face a fraction toward him, leaving my lips a mere breath from his. A thousand reasons not to race through my thoughts, all shouting at me to stop this and walk away. But they’re grossly overshadowed by the lone thought of wondering what his lips will feel like pressed against mine.
Madison… Don’t…
My lips brush against his. The dusting flutter is so soft, it barely qualifies as a kiss. “We shouldn’t…” I whisper. But even as I say it, I know it’s already too late.
His whiskey-scented breath blows over my lips as he parts his. “Then tell me to stop.” Each word vibrates against my trembling lower lip, and every bit of resolve washes from me. Internally, I scream at myself to be smart.Don’t throw it all away for one measly kiss.But my hands betray me. They fist into the fabric of his shirt, crisp and still warm from the heat of his body. My fingers curl so tightly, it’s like I’m drowning and he’s the only thing that can pull me to the surface.
We crash together, our mouths meeting with hunger and defiance. His lips are demanding and desperate, like he’s waited years for this moment, not days. I kiss him back with every ounce of fight in my soul. Not gently. Not cautiously. Nothing about this is slow or sweet. It’s reckless and wild—nothing but pure, unadulterated desire. It’s everything I’ve tried to pretend I didn’t want.
His tongue plunders my mouth as I moan into his with need, and I let myself forget everything—who I am, where we are, and what this will cost me. I just want to feel.I just want him.I don’t care about anything except the way he’s holding me and claiming my mouth like he can’t get enough. Like I’ve ruined him just by existing. His hands slide to my thighs, and he grips them tightly. He hoists me up, and I instinctively wrap my legs around him .
One of his hands runs over my ribs and along my side, tracing every inch with his palm before roughly kneading at my breast. The other firmly grips my bare ass, holding me in place as he grinds his ever-hardening length against me.And fuck… it feels good.My whole body tingles with electricity, and I can barely think.
He drags his tongue up the length of my neck before sucking my earlobe into his mouth. He nips at it with his teeth, and my body reacts without thought—my legs tightening around his waist as a breathy moan rattles from my lungs. Squeezing my thighs, I slide myself along his thick shaft, trying to relieve the ache between them.
My hands slide up his chest and tangle in his thick copper hair. I fist it hard enough to elicit a pleased groan from him. “I knew you weren’t a good girl,” he teasingly mutters against my neck, his tone low and deep. It sounds so filthy whispered in my ear that it vibrates along my skin and straight to my pussy. His palm slaps against my ass cheek, and I yelp at the sudden, unexpected burn. I grind against him even harder, mewls and whimpers spewing from me uncontrollably as I work myself to the brink. He spanks me again and roughly squeezes the cheek. I grunt with delightas he asks, “But you like how bad girls get treated, don’t you?”
“Yes…” I breathlessly moan my response without hesitation. A devilish smirk pulls at the corner of my lips, and I tug roughly at my fistfuls of his hair again, needing more of what I know he’ll give me. His hand strikes my skin again with such force that tears well in my eyes, and all I can think is how badly I want him to do it again.
