Page 43 of Ruin Me, Daddy

But she didn’t care. Every ounce of awareness she owned was focused on the pulsing need between her thighs as she followed him up onto one of the smaller platforms. This one, unlike the others, was empty, leaving her imagination to run wild with thoughts of what he might have planned for her.

“Dress off. Leave the boots.”

As she had during Roulette, she wondered what it was about the goddamn boots he loved so much. But it didn’t seem like the time to question his wardrobe preferences, so she simply pulled the dress up over her head and tossed it to the side.

Hunger flashed across his face. Other than the boots, she was naked as the day she’d been born. “Perfect. Arms behind your back, baby.”

Too needy to consider disobeying, she placed her arms behind her back, her wrists crossed just above her ass. A moment later, smooth leather wrapped around her wrists, anchoring them in place.

“Good girl.” Crooning out the praise, he ran his fingers down her spine, to her bottom, where he gave her an almost patronizing little pat. “I thought about having Beckett join us, you know.”

The conversational tone had the hairs on the back of her neck standing up as he continued stroking the tips of his fingers over her skin, setting every nerve ending on fire. “You did?”

“Mmhmm. I’ve never seen anyone bring a naughty girl to tears faster than Beckett Stone. And the idea of you choking on my cock while my friend turns you into a snotty, sobbing mess does hold a certain appeal.”

It held a certain amount of appeal to her, as well. “Why didn’t you?”

Gripping her hair, he pulled her head back, his dark eyes boring down into hers. “Because you’re mine, Amanda Sterling. And I’m not in the mood to share my toys.”

All she’d ever wanted was to belong to someone. To know that whatever happened, she would always be theirs. It was part of why she’d stayed with Ace for so long. While his jealousy had long ago tipped over into toxicity, she’d still craved that feeling of belonging. Of being owned.

But already this felt different. With Ace, it had been all about power. About possessing something nobody else had. There had never been that note of awe like she heard now in Ice’s tone, like he couldn’t quite believe she was his, even if it was just for a fleeting moment in time.

And the thought of being his toy, a filthy little plaything he could do whatever he wanted with, had the need between her thighs cranking up to an inferno.

“Yours,” she managed to force out in a cracked whisper. “Only yours.”

Pride flashed in his eyes. “That’s right, baby. Only mine. Your tears, your cries, your pleasure. Mine.”

With that, he turned and grabbed the play bag he’d dropped at the edge of the platform on their way up. He made a show of circling her, bag in hand, a thoughtful expression on his face. “I’ve already done a fair job of ruining your lipstick. But the rest of your makeup is holding up fairly well. Let’s see what we can do about that.”

Fear and arousal clouded her mind as he dropped the bag at her feet and crouched. His low chuckle met her ears a moment before he straightened, a wicked smile playing on his lips. “You know, baby. As much as I truly love your ass, I think tonight we’ll focus on those pretty tits of yours.”

Pain flashed through her, sharp and piercing. “Oh, fuck! Ice, that hurts!”

Looking down, she grimaced at the clothespin he’d clipped to the side of her breast. As she watched, a second joined the first, and she forced herself to breathe through the pain.

“That’s my pretty little pain slut,” he crooned, adding a third clip before she’d even had time to process the pain of the first two. “Taking what Daddy gives you so well. Are you going to cry for me, baby?”

She could already feel the tears building—the pressure in her chest, the moisture on her lashes. “No. Maybe. I don’t know.”

Another clothespin, another flash of agony. “That sounds like a challenge.”

Bending his head, he captured her nipple between his teeth. Pleasure warred with pain as he sucked the bud to a hard point. A sob bubbled up in her chest when he lifted his head and held another clothespin up for her inspection.

“Please, don’t. Ice, please. It’s too much.”

“What’s your safeword, baby?”

Even with the pain fogging her mind, she knew the answer to that question as surely as she knew her own name. “Red, Sir.”

“Do you need your safeword?” Cupping her breast, he ran his thumb over the hardened nub, drawing another soft sob from her lips. “It’s all right if you do, baby. I promise I won’t be mad. But you need to tell me.”

The more rational part of her brain was screaming at her to say it. To end the torment he was inflicting on her.

But there were those other parts of her, the parts that craved his darkness, craved the pain and the humiliation. And those parts were fully in control. “No, Sir. I don’t need it.”

“Hmm.” His gaze roamed her face, searching for something. What, she wasn’t sure, but she had the distinct feeling he was seeing her far more clearly than any man in his position ever had. “You’ll use it if you need it.”

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