Page 49 of Submitting to Daddy
She convulses in my arms, her orgasm crashing through her with a raw scream that echoes around the apartment. Pulling my fingers from her, she slumps against me, her body still shaking. I kiss the side of her neck and lick the sweat from her skin. “Such a good girl for me.”
I turn her on my lap until she’s straddling me, peppering kisses across her face while she catches her breath. She reaches between us, her fingers fumbling with the zipper of my jeans. “Someone’s eager,” I tease with a soft growl.
“I need you,” she begs, still trembling. “Please, Daddy.”
“Such a needy little thing,” I whisper, brushing hair from her face. “That’s okay. Daddy’s going to take care of you.”
She manages to undo my pants and shimmy them down to free me. My cock springs up, hard and with precum gathered on the tip. Without pausing, she lifts just enough for me to kick my pants to my knees and sinks onto me—slowly, inch by inch—moaning as I fill her.
“Ride me. Let me feel how much you need me.” Grinding over my lap like she’s dancing for me, her lips parted andcheeks flushed, she rides my cock. Slipping my hands beneath her shirt, they roam up her body and cup her pert tits. I lightly pinch both her nipples and her pussy clenches around me.
With her nipple in one hand, I grip her ass with the other. I fight the urge to take control, letting her use me to please herself. Her hips move faster, and her breaths grow rapid, and I know she’s right on the edge again. “That’s it. Use my cock. Make that little pussy of yours feel so good.”
“Yes… Yes…” she pants, the release she’s worked so hard for finally crashing through her. Pressing my lips to hers, I kiss her slow and deep. When I eventually pull back, I ask, “Do you feel worshipped and adored?”
“Yes, Daddy,” she answers, breathlessly.
“Good. Because now you’re going to feel likemine,” I grit, gripping her waist and roughly pulling her off my cock. I flip her over the arm of the couch with ease, her stomach resting on it, and her perfect ass high in the air. She whimpers as I grab her hips from behind and line up with her entrance. I drive into her hard, quickly filling her pussy with every inch of my cock. She cries out, her hands clawing at the plush fabric beneath her. “You belong to me,” I growl, pounding into her. “Say it.”
“I’m yours,” she gasps.
I wrap a hand around her neck, squeezing just enough. The tight walls of her cunt clamp down around me and her whole body trembles. “You’re Daddy’s good girl,” I grunt between thrusts. My balls slap against her clit with every drive of my hips.
“Please… Please don’t stop,” she whimpers, her legs starting to shake. I wrap my arm around her middle and pull her against meas I slam into her harder and deeper, chasing the release we both need. She breaks for me, her body tightening and toes curling. I follow her, groaning her name against her shoulder as I spill inside her.
Breathless and shaking, I slowly ease out of her and collapse onto the couch, pulling her with me. She curls against me, her hair damp at the temples, her eyes dazed and sleepy.
“I love you,” she whispers.
I kiss her temple, still trying to slow my heart.
“I know,” I reply quietly. “I love you, too.”
A COUPLE OF DAYS LATER
The morning has been quiet, peaceful. After everything lately, maybe a little too peaceful. I’m tucked into Cillian’s side on the couch, my cheek resting against his bare chest while his fingers lazily trace circles along the small of my back. He’s wearing a pair of charcoal sweatpants, hair messy from sleep, and I’m in nothing but one of his old T-shirts and a pair of black cotton panties. The soft rumble of the coffee pot finishing its brew fills the silence, followed by the warm scent of dark roast drifting from the kitchen.
It’s not glamorous. But it’sperfect.
He stirs at the sound of brewed coffee, and I mumble against his chest, “Do we have to move?”
Huffing a low laugh, he brushes his lips across the top of my head. “Technically, no. But weshould.”
I look up at him, pouting a little. “Can’t we just stay here all day?”
“Tempting,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “But I promised Nikolai I’d go over the warehouse transfer manifests today. And you”—he taps the tip of my nose—“promised to go with Eavan to the spa. And I think there was something about dinner with the whole family.”
“Ugh,” I groan, letting my head fall back. “Why does being loyal to criminals feel more exhausting than being a Fed ever was?”
“Because now you’re doing it without a pension or dental,” he deadpans. I laugh.God, I fucking love him.
He pushes from the couch to go get us coffee when the front door rattles.
BOOM!
The heavy steel doesn’t just open. It explodes into the apartment—torn from the hinges and lying on the hardwood floor. Shouts flood the apartment, “FBI! Hands in the air!”
I’m too stunned to move—to breathe—but Cillian reacts instantly as the thud of boots stomp across the floor. “Get behind me,” he growls, shoving me into the couch and covering me with his body as black-clad agents adorned in tactical gear swarm the penthouse: helmets, goggles, bulletproof vests. Dozens of them. All with weapons raised and looking for a reason to use them.It’s like a fucking war zone.
