Page 55 of Sugar Baby Mine

“Emmeline,” he warns, his tone is low and gravelly. I want him to read the entire dictionary to me like that. “Turn around and bend your ass over the arm of the couch.”

I slide off the edge as he drops my wrist and give him a gentle push with the tips of my fingers so I can turn in place. My stomach rests over the arm of the couch as I bend forward, the leather cool beneath my heated skin as I plant my hands on the seat and shuffle to spread my feet apart. I wiggle my hips, the pleats of my skirt barely covering anything in this position.

“How’s this?”

Ben steps back, the comforting warmth of his body vanishing all too quickly.

He gives an assessing hum, trailing his finger up the back of my thigh between my thigh-highs and the hem of my skirt already halfway up my ass. He knocks my stance wider with his foot before flipping the end of my skirt up and tucking it into the waistband to hold in place.

“Better now,” he says after a beat, fingers trailing over my thighs and hips before hooking and dragging my panties down, leaving them stretched between my knees. “I like when you’re bent over and on display, just for me.”

“Well, I don’t see anyone else here.”

As soon as the words leave my lips, his hand cracks down against my ass in a swat that stings harder than when he spanked me with his belt. I suck in a breath, my body tensing up as pain blooms along my skin, like the quick strike of a match. It burns in my veins, bubbling up and over when he brings his hand down again in another swat that has me jolting forward, making my clit throb in response.

“What was that?” he asks, his tone glinting with danger. I can feel it slither over my skin, threatening to suffocate me as his breath blows over the dip of my spine—down, down, down, until his lips graze over the skin of my ass where his hand print feels freshly tattooed. I nearly vault over the couch at the sensation.

“Fuck,” I pant out, squeezing my eyes closed as his lips soothe the skin with a feather touch of a kiss. “Just for you—” my voice shakes, “—only you.”

“And who is this dripping wet pussy for?”

His fingers glide over my folds, and I can hear how wet I am as he slicks his fingers down to my clit. He rubs a gentle circle, and my eyes flutter open. l practically fist the couch beneath my grasp.

“You, Daddy.”

Ben gives me an appreciative hum, and he leans forward over my back again to put his lips at my ear. His tongue flicks over the space just below the lobe, and I want nothing more than for him to possess me—mind, body, and soul. I don’t know how, but he has me under his spell and I don’t know how I’ll ever break it.

“Is this what you want?” he asks, his slick fingers gentling over my clit to rub it directly.

I push against his hand, head bobbing in a nod as pleasure floods my limbs and begins to swirl. I’m already getting drunk on it.

“Words, Emmeline.”

My chest tightens on a breath, lips nearly trembling with want. “I want your fingers in my pussy.”

“See, was that really so hard?” His breath curls in my ear, eliciting a heady fog in my brain as his fingers slide up and down. “This little pussy is so wet, so needy for any part of me to fill you. I hate to see you suffer, but it looks so pretty on you.”

My mouth drops open, half-formed thoughts lost in my throat as he swirls his fingers through the wetness of my arousal. He rubs directly over my clit in a rough swipe, and I nearly fold all the way in half as my forehead touches the couch cushion.

Ben nuzzles into the space between my shoulders, lips seeking to cover every inch of my skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. His other hand drifts over my hip, up my waist, covering my breast with the whole of his hand. He rubs the rough surface of his palm over my nipple before pinching it between his fingers and playing me like a symphony.

My entire body feels aflame with the ministrations of his fingers, his teeth and lips biting into my neck and shoulders so I won’t be able to look in the mirror without seeing his mark all over my skin again. The possessive urge to rake my fingernails down his back and claw him until he bleeds rages under myfingers as I clutch at the couch.

He trails over my entrance, fingertips pressing into my pussy. It’s obscene—the sound that his fingers make sliding into me, but I only knock my head to the side and bite my lip.

“Such a tight, wet cunt. Can’t wait to get my cock inside you,” Ben breathes over the sensitive skin at my shoulder, fingers punctuating the words with a sharp thrust. I shudder when he pinches my nipple andtugs, extending the way my mind blanks.

As nice as two of his fingers feel, I want his cock inside me just as much as he does. A moan slips past my lips, uninvited, at the thought.

“Is that what you want, Emmeline?” He drags my name out as his fingers rub along the front wall of my pussy. “For me to fuck you?” He pushes a little deeper for good measure—and my head lolls as a whimper sounds from my throat. “Been wet and thinking about my cock stuffing you full since you had it last?”

I grit my teeth to hold back another moan, arousal and irritation clashing in equal measure.

“Do you ever shut up?”

“You want me to?”

“Yes,” I hiss.

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