Page 65 of Deliah
He brushed my hair behind my ear, the soft gesture a contrast to the command in his voice. “Safe word?”
“Vanilla.”
He smiled, dark and slow. “Perfect.”
He stepped in. “Last chance. If you want out, say it now.”
I looked him dead in the eye, a slow grin curling on my lips. “How bad do you want me?”
His jaw twitched. In one smooth motion, his hand came up, firm around my neck—not tight, just enough to hold me there—and he tilted my chin up so I couldn’t look anywhere but him.
“Deliah,” he said, his voice low and steady, “you have no idea what that mouth just signed up for.”
A beat passed. The air was thick with tension. His eyes searched mine like he was making sure I understood. Then he kissed me like he’d waited years for it. Like control had snapped, and now he was going to ruin me slowly. Completely. I melted into it. Into him. He spun me gently, walking me back until I hit the bed.
“Take off your dress.”
I obeyed. It dropped to the floor. No underwear. Nothing left but want.
“On your knees. Hands behind your back.”
I dropped. Instantly. Like my body already knew who it belonged to. He circled me slowly, the heat of his gaze making my skin prickle. His fingers brushed the top of my shoulder, then trailed down my spine—slow, deliberate, like he was mappingevery inch of me before he claimed it. He knelt behind me, his breath warm against the back of my neck.
“You’re already shaking,” he murmured. “That from nerves… or need?”
I couldn’t answer. Could barely breathe.
His hand slid between my legs. A single stroke. A wicked groan.
“Fuck. You’re soaked.”
I whimpered as his fingers teased, never giving me enough.
“You’ve been craving this, haven’t you, baby girl?”
I nodded, desperate.
He sucked his fingers into his mouth, eyes closing for a beat like he’d just tasted something divine.
“You need my cock to fill you up, don’t you?”
“Yes,” I breathed.
He stood and undressed slowly—each movement unhurried, calculated, as if he had all the time in the world and knew exactly how undone I already was. When he was naked, he paused—just for a second—watching me. “You look beautiful like this,” he said, voice low and reverent. “Open. Obedient. Needing me.”
Then his tone dropped, darker now. “But I’m not going to be gentle with you.”
I shivered. He was hard. Heavy. And already angled like he knew exactly where he belonged.
“On the bed. On your back.”
I climbed on and spread my legs. Shame didn’t exist anymore.
He crawled over me, eyes locked on mine. “You’ve been torturing me, Deliah. Every bratty look. Every tease. And now…” He ran the head of his cock through my folds without entering. “Now this pussy is mine. Isn’t it, baby?”
“Yes. It’s yours.”
“That’s right.” He tapped his cock against my clit, and I jolted. “Say, ‘It’s yours, Daddy.’”
