Page 41 of Daddy's Christmas Obsession
This is power. This is control. This is ownership in its most primal form.
I work her through it, prolonging her pleasure until she collapses back onto the mattress, trembling and breathless. Only then do I move up to gather her against me, cradling her headagainst my chest. My body still aches with unmet need, but the satisfaction of knowing I've claimed her this way, of seeing her completely surrendered to me, is worth the temporary discomfort.
"So beautiful," I murmur into her hair as she continues to shiver with aftershocks. "So perfect for me." Mine, I think. Finally, completely mine.
I gather her trembling body against mine, stroking her hair as she comes down from the high, whispering praise against her temple. "Such a good girl. So perfect for me. You did so well."
Her eyes are heavy-lidded, the intensity of her release having drained her. "Thank you," she whispers.
"For what, beautiful girl?"
"For knowing what I need better than I do."
I smile as sunlight warms her flushed skin. She's learning faster than I expected. Soon, she'll be completely mine in every way—mind, body, and soul.
And she'll never even remember there was a time when she wasn't.
Chapter twelve
Kyra
Afternoon light casts long shadows across Victor's bedroom as I lie curled against his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath my ear. He’s still clothed, never once even showing a lack of restraint.
My body still hums with aftershocks, muscles pleasantly sore in ways I've never experienced. I’d never came like that before. It was so much. I wasn’t the kind of girl who squirted, and yet I just had, making a mess of the sheets.
Interesting. But for once, my analytical mind is quiet, overwhelmed by pure sensation.
I called him Daddy.
The memory sends fresh heat rushing to my face. I've never been that person—never played with power dynamics, never surrendered control so completely. Yet something about Victor pulled those desires from deep within me, needs I didn't know existed until his hands were on my body, his voice in my ear, commanding me to submit.
"What are you thinking about so intensely?" Victor's voice rumbles beneath my ear, his fingers tracing idle patterns along my spine.
"Nothing," I lie, unwilling to admit how thoroughly he's dismantled my carefully constructed self-image.
His hand stills, then grips my chin gently but firmly, tilting my face up to meet his gaze. "Rule number three," he says, his tone gentle but unyielding. "No lying. Not to me. Not ever."
I swallow hard, caught in the intensity of his steel-gray eyes. "I was thinking about what happened between us. About what I called you."
A smile curves his lips, satisfaction evident in the slight arch of his eyebrow. "And how does that make you feel? Calling me that?"
"Confused," I admit. "I've never... I don't understand why I responded that way."
"You're a brilliant woman, Kyra. I think you understand perfectly. You've spent your entire life being the responsible one, carrying burdens no one should have to bear alone. Taking care of everyone else, never allowing anyone to take care of you."
His accuracy is unnerving. After my parents died, I'd had no choice but to become completely self-sufficient, to shoulder responsibilities most teenagers never face.
"With me," he continues, his voice dropping to that register that seems to bypass my brain and speak directly to my body, "you don't have to be in control. You don't have to make the decisions. You get to surrender, to trust that I'll take care of everything. Isn't that what you need?"
"I don't need anyone to take care of me," I protest, though the words sound hollow.
Victor's smile deepens. "Everyone needs someone, beautiful girl. Even brilliant scientists." His hand slides lower, tracingthe curve of my hip. "Especially brilliant scientists who've been alone for far too long."
Before I can formulate a response, he shifts suddenly, glancing at the antique clock on the nightstand. "It's later than I realized. As much as I'd love to spend the entire day exploring exactly how many ways I can make you come apart for me, we have other things to attend to."
"We do?" I ask, surprised by the note of disappointment in my voice.
"Indeed." He sits up. "Have you forgotten what time of year it is?"
