Page 29 of Daddy's Princess

She sucks in a breath, her thighs clenching together, trying to give herself much-needed friction. “You are.”

“Who?” I tighten my grip on her hair in reproach, causing her to gasp at the stinging pain.

“You daddy!”

“And did I give you permission to suck my cock?”

Her eyes go wide as she realizes that she might be in trouble. Though I don’t see regret in them, she’s looking at me with anticipation. My girl truly is starved to be taken in hand. She’s been denying her true self for so long she’s practically begging for my discipline.

“No, daddy,” she says, licking her lips as she stares at the drop of precome beading on the tip of my rock-hard cock.

“Naughty girl. Who decides when you get this cock?” I growl, using her hair to pull her to her feet. She gasps but leans into the pain. Hell, her eyes practically roll back into her head as I wrench control away from her, giving her exactly what she needs.

When I release my grip on her hair, her eyelashes flutter as she slowly opens her eyes. “You do, daddy.” Sugar’s voice is a breathy whisper. If the elevator weren’t completely silent, save for our breaths, I wouldn’t have heard her.

“That’s right, babygirl. I decide when you get daddy’s cock.” I press her against the wall, my lips a hairsbreadth from hers. So close that the next time she licks her lips, her tongue brushes along mine too. It’s my undoing. With a growl, I take her lips in a bruising kiss.

The kiss isn’t a slow seduction, it’s an explosion of pent up need. Both hers and mine. Before I realize what I’m doing, I grip her ass, lifting her. Sugar instinctively wraps her legs around my waist. The hot, wet heat of her pussy presses to my cock, causing us both to moan. Her fingernails dig into my shoulders as she rocks against me.

I should stop her. I should wrest control from her, but the slick caress of her slit is too much temptation. Using my grip on her perfect ass, I anchor her to the wall and roll my hips, rubbing my cock through her folds. Over and over, I mimic the act of fucking her until my cock is covered in her sweet honey, and it’s dripping down my balls. My cock throbs between us, each stroke a tease of what it could be. The temptation to bury myself balls deep in her tight sheathe is nearly irresistible, but somehow, I manage. The first time I fuck Sugar won’t be against the wall of an elevator.

“Oh, God. Daddy…” Sugar pants against my lips. “Please. I need you… please fuck me.”

I must be going for fucking sainthood because, despite her pleas, I hold firm to my resolve. Instead, I grind against her clit until she’s moaning and chasing her orgasm. Her whole body trembles as her climax ripples through her. My cock swells, and despite my best of intentions, I let go, coating her pussy in rope after rope of my release.

I slow my thrusting hips until it’s a gentle grind that causes her to shudder in orgasmic aftershocks. My lips find hers in a lazy kiss. For long moments I kiss her. The desperate edge has been sated, and our kiss is a sweet slow affirmation that we are both in this thing, whatever it might be.

She can deny it all she wants with words, but her body already knows what her mind is trying to deny—she’s mine.

The trilling of my cell phone breaks the silence, but I just keep kissing my girl. Holding her pinned between my body and the wall. As soon as the ringing stops, it starts up again. When it goes off the third time, Sugar pulls away.

“You should probably get that,” she says as she slowly detangles herself from my grip. She stumbles slightly as her sex-weak legs struggle to support her. She giggles a little as I hold her until she gets her bearings. The sound is music to my ears. Without a thought, I’m moving back into her, determined to taste her happiness straight from her lips. Of course, my fucking phone rings again.

I tug my pants up until they are loosely resting on my hips, grab my phone from my pocket, and curse when I see it’s my secretary. “What?” I practically snarl into the phone.

Sounding unperturbed, Janis reminds me that I’m supposed to be in a meeting with Mr. Lea and that Theo is done with his presentation.

“Fuck. Five minutes.”

In the half a minute I was on the phone, Sugar has been busy putting herself back together. Her skirt is back in place, her blouse is primly tucked back in, her buttons in a perfectly straight line. She’s running her fingers through her hair, trying to fix the mess my fingers made. No amount of straightening is going to hide the way her lips are kiss-swollen or the obvious beard burn from where my facial hair abraded her delicate skin. No matter how she tries, she’s going to be carrying my mark on her when we leave this elevator, and I can’t help the pleasure that gives me. I want every motherfucker that lays eyes on Sugar to know that she’s taken. More than that, I want them to know that she’s mine.

Once I have my own clothes straightened out, I push the button to restart the elevator. I move to put my arm around Sugar, and she visibly stiffens. One look tells me everything I need to know, she’s pulling away. Rebuilding her walls so she can hide behind them. I can practically hear the self-recrimination in her thoughts.

I pull her into my arms, and with one finger under her chin, I tip her head up, so she’s focused on me. “What are you thinking so hard about?” I ask, even though I already know.

She shakes her head and tries to step out of my hold, but I tighten my grip. “That shouldn’t have happened. We can’t…”

“We sure as fuck can.” The words come out harsher than intended, but I refuse to allow her to talk herself out of exploring this thing between us.

“You’re my boss,” she weakly protests.

“There are no rules against fraternization among employees at Titan-Rose.”

“But everyone will talk. They’ll think I got my position in the internship program by fucking the owner.”

“I don’t give a fuck what people think. People should mind their own fucking business. And you shouldn’t worry about that. Anyone who sees your work will know that’s bullshit. You earned your spot through talent and effort.” Despite my efforts to assuage her worries and trample all over her excuses, she still shakes her head in denial.

The elevator dings as it stops on our floor, and she uses the distraction to put space between us. As soon as the doors slide open, she darts out into the perceived safety of the office. If I didn’t have one of our top-ranking authors waiting in my office, I would follow her and show her that I could give a flying fuck who sees us together, but the weight of responsibility pulls me away.

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