Page 38 of Use Me, Daddy

Eventually, I gave up. The wine bottle was nearly empty, and still the only thing that I could think about was him. With a frustrated sigh, I turned off the TV and padded down the hall to my bedroom.

Maybe sleep would offer some kind of escape.

But even as I slipped between the cool sheets, pulling the blanket up around me, my mind wouldn’t stop spinning with images ofwhat happened between us. I tossed and turned, trying to force my mind to go blank, but the more I tried, the more vivid the memories became.

Eventually, exhaustion won out, and I drifted into a restless sleep. But when I woke the next morning, it was like no time had passed at all. The first thought that hit me was of him.

I dragged myself out of bed, my head aching slightly from the wine, and stumbled into the shower, hoping the hot water would clear my mind. After that, I dressed for work, each piece of clothing feeling like armor—layers I needed to put on just to face him again.

Because I knew, deep down, that I couldn’t pretend what had happened yesterday didn’t happen. It did and there was no denying that.

I’d have to deal with it, whether I wanted to or not.

As I walked to the gallery, my mind was a whirlpool of anxiety and anticipation. How was I supposed to look him in the eye today, knowing how thoroughly I’d fallen apart over his knee? How I had begged for him to push me further, to give me what I didn’t even know I needed when I’d needed it.

How I kind of wanted to beg him to take me exactly the way he’d threatened…

My asshole clenched just thinking about his thick pierced cock pressing inside me there.

I shook my head.

No.

I wouldn’t let him take me like that. I was stronger than that. I wouldn’t let my desire dictate my life.

Taking a deep breath, I pushed open the gallery doors, bracing myself for whatever came next. Because one way or another, I’d have to face him. And this time, there would be no escaping the fallout.

As soon as I stepped inside, I saw that Aleksei was already here.

He was leaning against the polished oak counter, speaking to one of the junior curators with that easy, relaxed posture that only made him look more powerful. He wore his usual impeccably tailored suit, dark and sharp, and when he turned his head and caught my eye, it was like a jolt of electricity went straight through me.

“Morning, Amy,” he said, his voice smooth, not a hint of anything that might suggest we were anything but two professionals going about their work.

Like his thumb hadn’t pressed inside my asshole yesterday…

“Good morning,” I managed to mumble, my voice coming out far softer than I intended. My cheeks were already burning, and I could only pray he didn’t notice the way my eyes flickered away from him, unable to hold his gaze for too long without feeling that heat creep up my neck.

I quickly busied myself with adjusting some pieces for an upcoming exhibition, but the weight of his presence was like a magnet. Every time he walked by, I could feel the heat of his gaze linger on me just a second too long. And every time, my cheeks would flush, my hands fumbling over whatever task I was pretending to focus on.

But Aleksei? He acted as if nothing had changed. As if he hadn’t put me over his knee, spanked my bare ass, and made me come more times than I could count. It was maddening. Enraging. And worse, it only made me more aware of him, of the way his voice carried across the gallery, the way he commanded every room he stepped into.

Throughout the day, he would call me over to consult on various pieces, each interaction laced with a tension that only I seemed to feel.

“Amy, can you take a look at this placement?” he asked, his tone casual, his gaze steady on mine as if daring me to crack.

I nodded stiffly, trying to keep my voice steady. “Of course.” But as I moved closer, my breath caught. He was standing so close, the scent of his cologne wrapping around me, and pulling me right back in.

He leaned in, his shoulder brushing against mine as we examined the painting, and I could barely concentrate. My heart was racing, every nerve in my body on high alert, but he remained perfectly composed, his tone as smooth and professional as if we were discussing the weather.

Like I hadn’t called him Daddy only just yesterday…

“That angle for the lighting works better, don’t you think?” he asked, his eyes flicking to mine with that same cool, calm expression.

“Yes,” I whispered, trying to pull myself together, praying my voice didn’t betray how flustered I was. “That angle… works.”

“Good.” He gave a small, approving nod before turning back to the piece, his hand resting casually on the small of my back forjust a second before he pulled away. It was so brief, so subtle, but it sent a shiver through me that I knew he noticed.

But he didn’t let on. He didn’t smirk, didn’t tease—he just moved on, continuing his work like nothing had happened.

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