Page 7 of Use Me, Daddy

“I thought it would attract higher bids,” I replied quietly, keeping my tone professional.

He studied me, his expression thoughtful. Then, without warning, he closed the distance between us, his fingers reaching to tilt my chin up. My breath caught, and I stared up at him, unable to ignore the way his touch sent an unexpected sense of heat spiraling through me. His eyes held mine, dark and intense, and I felt pinned in place, as though he could see exactly how flustered I was, that I couldn’t hide it.

“Don’t worry,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth, “I didn’t come here to rub it in. I know that you’re probably right most of the time. But…” His thumb brushed against my chin, his gaze unwavering. “Daddy is right some of the time.”

Heat rose in my face, and I resisted the urge to jerk my chin from his hold. It took every bit of resolve not to pull away, to simply hold his gaze without faltering, even as my pulse sped up.

The warmth in my cheeks spread, and I swallowed, refusing to look away.

Daddy?

What the fuck did he mean by that?

Aleksei’s hand lingered on my chin, his touch firm yet maddeningly gentle. I was keenly aware of the way he looked at me—like he could see straight through the calm façade I was working so hard to maintain.

I hated that.

His gaze dropped to my lips, lingering there, and before I could register the thought, he closed the space between us, pressing his mouth to mine in a kiss that was anything but restrained.

For a heartbeat, I froze, but then my pulse quickened, and I found myself kissing him back, unable to resist. His hand slid into my hair, gripping it tightly, pulling me closer until I felt his body pressing against mine.

The kiss deepened, powerful and unyielding, his grip on my hair a reminder that he was in control, and I felt my breath quicken, my pulse pounding with something dangerously close to surrender.

It infuriated me.

Breaking free, I slapped him, my hand connecting with his cheek in a swift, sharp strike. He didn’t flinch. Instead, he looked down at me, his mouth lifting in the faintest hint of a smile, as though he’d known all along that I’d respond this way.

“I guess I had that coming,” he murmured, his voice low, almost amused. His fingers stayed tangled in my hair, keeping my head angled up, his gaze steady and unyielding as he looked down at me, his powerfully seductive presence filling the space between us.

He leaned in, his breath hot against my ear.

“When you’re ready to beg for it,” he whispered, his voice like a dark promise, “I want you to know that I’m going to have to punish you for that.”

A shiver ran through me, the mix of his words and the fire in his eyes setting off a thrill that I couldn’t quite tamp down. The room felt smaller, the distance between us vanishing as he heldme there, his grip on my hair a quiet warning that he wasn’t about to let me go that easily.

But I held my ground, forcing myself to meet his gaze, to steady my breathing even as my heart raced.

I wasn’t about to give in without a fight.

Aleksei’s eyes held mine for a beat longer, his grip still firm in my hair, his words hanging in the air, heavy with meaning. Then, slowly, he loosened his hold, his fingers releasing me with a gentleness that only heightened the tension crackling between us. He stepped back, giving me space, though his gaze stayed locked on me, as if he knew exactly what kind of effect that he’d had on me.

I didn’t give him the satisfaction of a response.

Instead, I turned quickly on my heel and walked out, my heart pounding as I forced myself to keep my steps steady and composed, every inch of me bristling with rage—and something else I wasn’t quite ready to name.

Outside, the cool air hit my face, but it did nothing to calm me down. I was seething, my hands clenched into fists at my sides, my pulse still racing from his words, from his touch, from his kiss…

“When you’re ready to beg for it…”

The memory of his low, dark voice wouldn’t leave me, his face close to mine, that knowing, infuriating look in his eyes, the promise that he would punish me for slapping him. It all felt like too much.

And then there was theDaddything.

The word echoed in my mind, sending a flush through me that I couldn’t explain and didn’t want to think about. I tried to shake it off, to clear my mind, but the image of him—standing there, holding me, completely in control of me—kept resurfacing, heating my skin even as anger tightened in my chest.

My pussy clenched just thinking about it.

How was I supposed to go back to work tomorrow? To walk into that gallery and pretend I hadn’t just been kissed by the man that was supposed to be my boss?

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