Page 64 of Submitting to Daddy
Her lips part, but she doesn’t answer me. Instead, I’m met with a string of mewls as she approaches the edge. “Is that a yes?” I pant between savage thrusts, her hips rising to meet each one. “Let go for me, firecracker. Come for me.”
She shatters beneath me, crying out my name with her whole body seizing as she clenches around me. I keep thrusting through it, drawing it out until she’s trembling and whimpering under my weight.
The second she breaks, I fall after her. Groaning against her neck, I spill inside her, every muscle taut and every nerve ending on fire. I grind into her until there’s nothing left, and I collapse on top of her. Her chest rises and falls against mine as she struggles to catch her breath.
I don’t give her the chance. Leaning in, I kiss her again—slow this time, lazy and deep. My hand strokes along her side, fingertips ghosting over her still-sensitive skin.
“You’re going to be the fucking death of me,” I mutter against her lips.
“But what a way to go, Daddy.” She hums, smiling with a bratty, blissed-out little smirk that makes me want to spank her all over again.
The room feels like it’s floating… OrI’mfloating…
Tucked against him, my cheek rests on his chest, still warm and slick with sweat. His heartbeat is a deep, steady thump beneath my ear, grounding me in the aftermath. My limbs are jelly, my body boneless, and my is ass on fire. Cillian claimed me like he was making up for every second I made him wait. He’s a demanding Daddy, both with punishments and sex. Yet, even with his demanding hands and the savage way he fucks, I feel loved, worshipped, and adored through every sting on my ass and thrust of his cock.
I might be the death of him, but my husband has absolutely ruined me.
He brushes my hair off my face, trailing a soft line from my temple to my jaw. His touch is so gentle—a stark contrast to his roughness—as he slowly trails his hand down my back.
“Are you okay, firecracker?” he murmurs against the top of my head. His voice is low, hoarse, and full of genuine concern.
I nod, too lazy and floaty to find my words immediately. “Yeah. More than okay.”
He lets out a breath, and his lips pull into a smile against the crown of my head. “Good. You were perfect.”
I hum, nuzzling closer into the dip where his shoulder meets his chest.
“You were perfect, too,” I whisper.
“You say that like I don’t always know what my girl needs.” His arm tightens around my waist. “Or how she likes to be fucked.”
I roll my eyes and laugh lightly. “Cocky much?”
“No. I just know how to take care of my wife.”
He reaches behind him, tugging the blanket over us, then wraps both arms around me like he can’t stand the thought of not touching me for a second.
“I love you.” My voice cracks a little, suddenly overwhelmed when I think about the fragility of our relationship.
He pulls me closer and kisses my temple again. “Talk to me.”
“I just…” I breathe in slowly, filling my lungs with the scent of him; warm skin, sweat, a hint of his cologne. My fingers nervously trace lazy patterns across his chest—scar tissue, the hard ridges of muscle—as I turn my thoughts to words. “Sometimes it scares me how much I need you. If this all went away, I wouldn’t know how to breathe.”
Cillian’s hold doesn’t loosen. If anything, he wraps himself around me tighter, one leg tangling with mine, his nose brushing my hairline. “I’m not going away.”
“You can’t know that.”
“I do,” he states firmly. “There is nothing that could keep me from you. I would burn cities to the ground and wage wars to bring you home if anyone dared take you from me.”
“And if they took you from me?” I ask the thing I fear most about his line of work, knowing that every meeting could end with a prison sentence or a funeral.
“I would crawl back to you from the depths of hell to spend the rest ofyourlife with you. And when your time finally came, I would fight my way through the pearly gates to have the rest of eternity with you. Because this one short lifetime isn’t enough to show you how much I love you.”
He shifts beneath me, and I barely have time to blink before he rolls us. His strong arms guide my weight with ease until I’m flat on my back, cradled by the mattress. Cillian rises over me, braced on his forearms, the golden hazel of his eyes molten with ravenous heat again.
I feel him—hard and growing harder—pressing against my thigh.
My breath catches. “Again?” I gasp, a breathless laugh tumbling out with the word.
