Page 132 of Morally Gray Daddies

Gulping hard, I turned to face him.

He looked like the proverbial bull someone had waved a red flag in front of. His eyes were squinted into angry slits, icy-cold. His cheeks were red with anger, and his mouth was drawn into a tight line. The hand that wasn’t holding the door shut to prevent my escape was balled into a fist at his side.

Before I could stop myself, I licked my lips.

His eyes narrowed farther, and when he spoke, I no longer recognized his voice. “You are playing with fire, Sabrina. Even if you had gotten out the door, where would you have gone? There’s no one for miles.”

I knew he was right, but desperation and pride had me puffing out my chest and declaring, “Maybe not, but I can run a lot faster than you.”

Damon rolled his eyes, unclenched his fist, and closed the space between us. “You’ve been a naughty little girl, and now you must be punished.”

At the same time fear flooded my senses, arousal flooded my pussy, soaking my panties.

Not that I’d admit it.

Just hold him off a little longer, that’s all you have to do. Fin will be here soon.

That thought was as comforting as it was messy.

Damon dragged his hand beneath my skirt again, and this time he pushed aside the fabric of my panties, dragging a finger between my plump pussy lips. “Damon,” I breathed. “Stop, you can’t.”

“I can’t, huh?” He slipped a second finger to join the first, pushing them inside me.

My breath caught. Tears pricked the corners of my eyes. This was so wrong, but it felt so good.

Fin never touched me the way Damon did. Our love was comfortable, stable, companionship, trust, the love of people who’ve gone through something traumatic together and come out on the other side.

But Damon… was our something traumatic. And before he went away, he’d been my Daddy. He’d been my hero, my world, my everything. My pussy had curved to his dick. He’d been my one and only. I’d never felt prouder than when I wore his marks across my ass. I’de never felt so cherished as when he called me babygirl.

It was hard to forget that. It was hard to remember that this was wrong, when in a way, it still felt so right.

He slipped a third finger inside me, and his eyes sparkled with a dark mischief. “Looks like I can, babygirl. You’re not even really trying to stop me.”

My whimper of distress was more like a mewl of pleasure as I writhed under his touch.

And when I did, his gaze darkened. Something evil came over him. I wasn’t supposed to do that. I wasn’t supposed to like it.

Before I could process the change, he quickly withdrew his fingers, and grabbed the package of zip ties.

He withdrew four and advanced forward, toward the top of the bed—the headboard. When he grabbed for my wrist, I moved my arm out of his reach and shook my head.

“You don’t need to,” I whispered. “I won’t fight you.”

He reached over to caress my cheek and when I curled into his touch, he grabbed my wrist, held it over my head and used the zip tie to secure it to the bedpost.

“Maybe I want you to fight.” His voice was cold. The lines of his face, the set of his jaw hard.

I could see there was no point in fighting, no point in trying not to fight. No matter what I did he was going to be angry; he wanted to be angry.

This time when he reached for my wrist, I just let him have it, and soon both my arms were secured above my head to my metal-frame headboard.

Now what?

Chapter Four

Sabrina

He looked at the roll of tape and back at me, seeming to consider his next move.

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