Page 39 of Ruin Me, Daddy

Setting the mug on the counter, he slid his arms around her waist, pulling her in close and savoring her little squeak of pain as he cupped her ass in his hands and squeezed. “My house, my rules, little girl.”

“Maybe I’ll just go back to my hotel, then,” she shot back, her tone turning sulky.

“You could.” Lowering his head, he nuzzled at the sensitive little dip between her neck and shoulders. “But then you wouldn’t get to be Daddy’s good girl.”

“That’s not fair,” she whispered, her voice rough with need despite how thoroughly he’d fucked her just a few hours ago. “You’re playing dirty.”

“I’m not interested in fair. Not to mention I’m a bit worried that if you pump any more caffeine into your system, you might wear a hole in these very nice floors with all your pacing.”

Red colored her cheeks. “I am not pacing.”

“Agree to disagree. Either way, you obviously have some energy you need to burn.” And a shit-ton of emotions she needed cleared out. But he had a feeling if he mentioned that, she would balk. “So here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to drive into town so you can get all your things from the hotel like you should have done last night. And when we get back, you’re going to go change into one of those dresses I love so much, and the boots, and you’re going to do your makeup like you do it for our shows. Where you make your eyes all dark and sultry and shit.”

“Oh, really? Is that what I’m going to do?” Twin notes of amusement and challenge played in her voice.

“It is.”

“And what if I don’t feel like it?”

“Then perhaps I won’t ‘feel’ like letting you come tonight.”

“You’re mean.”

“Trust me, baby. I can get a hell of a lot meaner.” Tightening his hold on her waist, he dipped her back, forcing her to cling to him as he brushed his lips over hers. “So be a good girl for Daddy and go put your boots on, so I don’t have to show you just how mean I can be.”

“Y-yes, Daddy.”

“Good girl.”

Releasing her, he sent her off to his bedroom with a firm swat that had her shooting a glare over her shoulder as she rubbed at the spot. But he caught the curve of her smile before she looked away again.

Leaving her to do as he’d asked, he made his way to the front hall where he kept his play bag to make sure he had everything he needed for a night his naughty little goddess would never forget.

Ice

It didn’t matter that she had a dozen of the same dress, in the same shade of black. Or that he’d seen her in this very outfit a thousand times over the course of their career. Seeing Amanda Sterling step out of his bedroom in that goddess of the night dress with the slits clear up to her hips, her lower legs wrapped in the leather of her platform boots, never failed to make him instantly hard.

Her hair was up again, ready for play. And as he’d requested, she’d gone with the more dramatic makeup she normally reserved for their shows, with the sultry black shadows on her heavy-lidded eyes and her lips painted a show-stopper red.

A different red than he was used to, though. Brighter, he thought, than her usual wine-colored lipstick. Gripping her chin, he ran his thumb just under her mouth, careful not to smear anything.

He wasn’t ready to ruin her just yet.

“This is new,” he murmured, and had the pleasure of watching her eyes go round with surprise.

“It is. I’m a little shocked you noticed, to be honest.”

“I notice everything about you, Silver.”

She inhaled sharply, and because he did notice everything, he heard the little hitch in her breath when she did. “Do you like it? The new color, I mean.”

“I do. It looks… powerful.” And he couldn’t wait to see what it looked like on his cock. “What’s it called?”

Surprise gave way to mischief as she grinned. “Petty Is My Favorite Color. It’s from this new line out of Washington. A group of friends, I think, who started their own makeup line. The name made me laugh so I ordered it, but it’s surprisingly great quality for a startup.”

It was so like her, to order something on a whim just because it made her laugh, without bothering to do any research or to even really think about it. She would have kept it, even if she hadn’t liked the color, just for the humor of it.

Was it any wonder he was fucking crazy about her?

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