Page 56 of Submitting to Daddy
Pinned against the wall by his hips, his hands slide under my shirt, and he roughly palms my breast as he licks and sucks at my neck. He presses me more firmly against the wall, the cool stone biting into my skin. “Say it,” he demands, roughly tweaking my nipple. “Say you’re mine. Say you’re my wife.”
The pain shoots straight to my pussy, and I gasp against his lips. “I’m yours. Your wife.”
His hands roam lower, tracing the curve of my hips before sliding beneath my sweatpants. He firmly palms my ass cheek, his fingertips dusting against the heat between my legs. Gripping the hem of my T-shirt, he lowers me to the floor and pulls it over my head.
“You belong to me now, firecracker,” he growls, dropping to his knees like a sinner preparing to worship at the altar of my body. “And I’m going to show you exactly what that means.”
His eyes never leave mine—dark and gleaming with hunger—as he slowly slides my sweatpants down, baring me, inch byinch. When he presses his lips to the inside of my thigh, he doesn’t look away, his warm breath skating over my skin.
“My wife,” he murmurs, his voice thick with possessive pride. “This pussy belongs to me now. Every inch of you does.”
A shiver courses through me as he lifts one leg over his shoulder, then the other, bracing me against the hotel room wall and spreading me wide. The wall is cool and rough against my back, but his mouth is full of heat and devotion as he presses a slow, open-mouthed kiss to the lips of my pussy. I cry out, the sound torn from my throat as his tongue slides through me, slow at first, teasing. He groans, like the taste of me is everything he’s ever wanted.
“You’re already dripping for me,” he rasps between licks. “God, I love how you soak my mouth. My filthy little wife.”
My hips buck forward, hands scrambling to hold onto his hair, needing more of him, needingeverything.But he keeps me pinned, locked in place, balanced on his shoulders as he licks me deeper, flicking his tongue over my clit in punishing short strokes that leave me whimpering.
“That’s it. Ride Daddy’s face,” he growls, voice muffled against me. “Let me hear how good it feels to belong to me.”
“Cillian—ohGod—” I moan, my thighs quaking. “Daddy, please…”
“That’s it. Scream for Daddy while I ruin this sweet little cunt.” He chuckles darkly, the vibration of it sending another wave of pleasure through me. “Mycunt. My wife’s perfect pussy.”
He sucks my clit into his mouth, and I nearly fall apart. It’s too much. All of it, his mouth, his words, and the roughpossessiveness of how he holds me like he’ll never let me go again. He feasts on me like he’s determined to drag every last orgasm out of me until I forget who I ever was before this.Beforehim.
“Daddy, I’m gonna—” My voice cuts off in a broken sob as pleasure rushes through me. I grind helplessly against his mouth, crying out his name as the orgasm crashes over me, my thighs squeezing around his face.
I beg for mercy, but he doesn’t relent. He licks me slowly through the aftershocks with soft, gentle strokes of his tongue, savoring me until I’m a trembling mess. Finally content, he carefully lowers each of my legs, both shaking so badly I struggle to keep my footing.
He kisses his way up my body, his beard damp and eyes on fire. “That’s the first of many tonight, Mrs. King,” he growls, gripping my chin and pulling me into a bruising kiss, letting me taste myself on his tongue. “You don’t get to sleep until you’ve screamed that pretty little throat raw for Daddy.”
“Yes, Daddy,” I whisper, lips parted, breath raspy. His thumb drags firmly over my bottom lip.
His eyes burn, and a dark smile spreads across his face. “That’s my good girl.”
Scooping me into his arms, he carries me to the bed and tosses me on the soft linen. He stands before me, stripping from his clothes with his eyes hungrily raking over every inch of my body.
He sheds his pants—his thick, veiny cock springing free—and I part my thighs, inviting him to take what he wants from me. WhatIneed from him, his rough and demanding hands,making me feel wanted.Like his.I want him to use me as he kisses his devotion across my skin, vowing to love me.
As my husband.
I stare down at Madison.
My wife.
Legs still quivering, lips swollen from our bruising kiss, and pupils blown wide, she watches me shed the last of my clothes.
She’s sprawled across the center of the king-size hotel bed, her dark hair a messy halo against the white sheets, and the glint of her delicious wetness still glistening between her parted thighs. And God help me, I’ve never seen anything so perfect.
“I’m going to spend the night claiming my wife,” I growl, climbing on top of her and pulling her perfect body against mine. “And she’s going to be a good girl and let me use every one of her perfect little holes, marking each of them as mine.”
I don’t deserve her, but fuck if I’m not going to spend my life worshipping her anyway.
I settle between her thighs and tenderly tuck her hair behind her ear. “My wife is fucking beautiful,” I whisper, unable to pull my gaze from her.
The word sends a fresh spike of need through me.
Wife.
