Page 45 of Sold To My Ex's Dad

The morning unfolds with a lighthearted ease, sunlight bathing the space in a warm golden hue. As we move toward the bed, the rays spill across the floor, enhancing the intimate, cozy vibe of Patrick’s well-kept sanctuary.

Patrick’s laugh is a low rumble, soothing yet thrilling. "Believe me, I’ve got a few secret recipes," he says, his voice a soft growl as he steps towards me. "The key ingredient? Anticipation."

Matching his approach, I close the distance between us, my bare feet silent on the cool wood floor.

"Anticipation, huh?" I tease, reaching out to lightly tug at the hem of his shirt. "That sounds delicious. What else are you mixing up for us?"

He captures my hand and pulls it to his lips, kissing my fingertips gently. "Let’s just say I plan to keep things interesting," he whispers, sending tingles up my arm.

"Show me," I challenge, with a flirtatious raise of my eyebrows.

Our banter fades as our lips meet, the kiss deepening with a passionate urgency that's been simmering since last night. Patrick’s hands are warm as they slide to the small of my back, his touch firm yet tender, pulling me flush against him. The feel of his body, strong and sure, envelops me in a sense of complete safety and excitement.

Pulling back slightly, he looks into my eyes, intensity flickering in his gaze. "Ready to explore some more?" he asks, his voice husky.

"Absolutely," I breathe out, my pulse quickening as his fingers find the buttons of the shirt that I'm wearing.

With careful movements, he undoes each button, his fingertips grazing my skin, leaving a hot trail that only heightens my anticipation. The shirt falls open, and he peels it away, his eyes appreciating the view before him.

"You’re breathtaking," he murmurs genuinely, his admiration making me blush.

I giggle softly, feeling bold and utterly charmed. "Your turn," I say, reaching for the hem of his shirt, pulling it up and over his head in one smooth motion. As I expose his chest, my fingers can’t help but trace the contours of his muscles, appreciating the feel of him under my touch.

I take his hand, my heart dancing with delight as he leads me to the bed. The silk ropes and blindfold from before still lie there. As he ties the first gentle knot, a thrill courses through me.

"Remember," he says softly as he adjusts the blindfold, ensuring my comfort, "this is all about trust. You set the pace."

I nod, feeling a surge of affection and excitement. "I trust you completely," I reaffirm, letting the darkness of the blindfold heighten my other senses.

The room falls into a hushed silence, broken only by our shared breaths, as Patrick carefully ties the silk rope around my wrists.

Despite the blindfold obscuring my vision, I feel more attuned to every touch, every shift in the air. The silk is smooth and cool against my skin, and I wait with bated breath for what will come next. "Is that okay?" Patrick's voice is low and close to my ear, his breath warming my cheek.

"Perfect," I assure him, my voice a whisper of excitement. The sensation of being gently bound, combined with my inability to see, sharpens my other senses to an exquisite degree. I hear the subtle rustle of the sheets as Patrick moves around the bed.

Then his hands are on me again, tracing paths along my arms, down my sides, exploring with a reverence that makes my heart swell. His touch is tender, mindful of my state, yet charged with a passion that resonates deep within me.

He pauses at my belly, his kisses soft and adoring there. It's a moment of profound intimacy, acknowledging the life we've created together.

"How does this feel?" he asks, his hands roaming over my skin, igniting fires along their trail.

"Incredible," I breathe out, lost in the sensation of being both captive and deeply cherished. The blindfold heightens every touch, turning his caresses into strokes of flame across my body. I arch slightly, pressing into his hands, seeking more of his touch, more of this delicious sensation of being loved and controlled at once.

Patrick's movements are deliberate, orchestrating a symphony of sensations that dance across my nerves. I can tell he’s watching my reactions, gauging my comfort and pleasure from the sounds I make, the way I shift against the bonds.

"You're so beautiful like this," he murmurs, an awe in his voice that makes me flush with warmth. "Completely open, trusting me. It's more than I could have hoped for."

The bond between us seems to strengthen in these moments, wrapped in silk and shadow. The room around us fades away, leaving only the connection that thrums through the air like electricity.

Slowly, Patrick guides my hands, still bound, above my head. The rope is secure but not restrictive, a symbol of the trust that defines the very core of our relationship. His lips find mine again, kissing me deeply, passionately, as if trying to convey all his emotions through that one connection.

Knowing I’m totally in his hands, I feel something inside me shift, a release that only his touch can bring.

He kisses me more, his lips on mine as his hand moves between my legs. He squeezes my inner thigh, tingles breaking out across my body as he touches me in the way only he can. His tongue meets mine as he spreads my folds open, his middle finger finding my clit and causing my back to instantly arch.

“There,” I moan. “Touch me just like that. Don’t stop.”

Each slow drag of his fingertip over my clit takes me to another level of pleasure. All I can do is squirm and kiss him back as he handles me.

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