Page 73 of Use Me, Daddy

“No,” he corrected, his lips curving into a faint, wicked smile. “Say it properly.”

My breath hitched, and I felt my cheeks burn hotter.

“Yes, Daddy,” I said softly.

His smile widened, and he leaned down to press a lingering kiss to my forehead.

“Good girl,” he murmured. “Now let’s discuss how exactly you’re going to learn from this mistake.”

My heart pounded as Aleksei’s hand slid to the small of my back, his touch firm and deliberate. Without a word, he took my arm, turned and guided me out of his office, his grip steady and unrelenting. I followed, my breath shallow, the anticipation swirling in my chest making my pulse race.

The moment we entered his bedroom, the door clicking shut behind us, he released me, his commanding presence filling the space. The room was dark and intimate, illuminated only by the faint glow of the city lights filtering through the tall windows.

“Strip,” he said, his voice low and firm, cutting through the quiet like a blade.

I blinked, my cheeks flushing as the word sank in. “What?”

He tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly, but there was no impatience in his gaze—only control, unyielding and absolute. “You heard me, baby girl. Take off your clothes. All of them.”

My breath caught, and I hesitated. His dark eyes locked onto mine, daring me to defy him, but there was no anger in his gaze—only the promise of what was to come if I disobeyed.

Slowly, my hands moved to the hem of my shirt. My fingers trembled as I pulled it over my head, the fabric slipping to the floor. I paused, glancing up at him, but his expression didn’t waver. He was watching me like a hawk, his gaze roaming over my body with a hunger that made my skin prickle with heat.

“Keep going,” he said, his voice softer now, but no less commanding.

My cheeks burned as I reached behind me to unhook my bra, the straps sliding down my shoulders as I let it fall to the floor. I hesitated again, my fingers hovering over the waistband of my pants.

“Amy,” he said, his tone a warning. “All of it.”

I exhaled shakily, pushing the rest of my clothes down and stepping out of them until I stood before him completely bare, the cool air of the room sending a shiver down my spine. I crossed my arms instinctively, trying to cover myself, but he stepped closer, his hands gently brushing mine aside.

“No hiding,” he murmured, his thumb tracing a line down my jaw. “Not from me.”

I nodded, my breath hitching as he leaned in, his lips brushing against my temple before he stepped away. He moved to the bed, pulling a length of silk rope from the drawer of the nightstand. My pulse quickened at the sight of it, my nerves and excitement colliding in a dizzying wave.

“Lie down,” he said, his voice low and soothing.

I obeyed, climbing onto the bed, and lying back against the soft sheets. He stood over me, the faintest smile curving his lips as he took in the sight of me, vulnerable and exposed beneath him.

He leaned down, his hands working quickly and skillfully as he secured my wrists to the headboard with the silk rope, the fabric soft but firm against my skin. He moved to my ankles next, tying them apart so that I was completely open to him, my body trembling with both fear and desire.

When he finished, he stood back, his eyes raking over me with a dark intensity that made my cheeks flush.

“You’re beautiful like this,” he said softly, his voice like a caress. “Completely at my mercy.”

I swallowed hard, my breath coming in shallow gasps as I tried to process the vulnerability of my position. I had never felt so exposed, so powerless—and yet, I had never felt more alive.

“Now, baby girl,” he said, his tone firm and possessive as he leaned over me, his lips brushing my ear. “You’re going to be punished. It’s going to hurt. You’re going to scream for me and I’m going to enjoy every single second of those screams as you come and beg and writhe for me.”

My body tensed, my heart racing as his words sank in. I tugged at the silk ropes, testing the strength of his knots, half hoping they would give way, half hoping they wouldn’t.

The fabric didn’t budge.

He watched me struggle with his dark gaze. My defiance only seemed to amuse him, his lips curving into a faint, maddening smirk, as if to say, “You can fight all you want, little girl, but you’re not getting away.”

That smirk set my blood on fire—half with anger, half with unimaginable desire, and I couldn’t make it stop.

“Still fighting,” he murmured, his voice soft but full of that maddening confidence. “Good. I like your fire, baby girl.”

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