Page 9 of Use Me, Daddy

And the worst part? I hadlikedit.

I closed my eyes, the heat rising up my neck as I tried to shake off the memory, but it was relentless, curling through my thoughts. I imagined him pulling me close like that again, this time without me breaking free, his hold tightening as he looked down at me, that same infuriating glint of amusement in his eyes. I could practically feel his breath against my ear, his voice low and sure, telling me exactly what he was going to do, how he wasn’t going to let me walk away so easily next time.

The thought left me breathless, and I shifted, feeling the warmth pool through me, settling in my core. I wanted to hate the way I was reacting, the way I was replaying it over and over in my head like a video on repeat.

But the truth was, I’d never felt anything like it. No one had ever unsettled me so completely. No one had ever looked at me with that mix of challenge and certainty, like he’d already known how this was going to go, and he was just waiting for me to realize it too.

I poured another glass, my hand shaking just slightly, and took a deep drink. I could still feel his grip on my hair, the pressure of his fingers, his voice promising that he would make me beg.

And God help me, part of me wanted him to.

Part of me wanted to see just how far he’d go, to feel that strength, that control. What would it be like to give in, to let myself feel his power without fighting it? To let him handle me with that same surety, to let him pull me close and keep me there?

For Daddy to give me what I truly needed.

The thought made my cheeks flush, and I pressed my hand against my mouth, trying to force my mind to calm down. But it was impossible.

My core twisted tight with need and nothing I could do or think would make it stop.

Fuck.

I closed my eyes, breathing hard, knowing there was no use in pretending. I couldn’t deny it anymore, not after that kiss, not after how turned on he had made me.

I wanted Aleksei Morozov.

And not just as a boss, or an employer, or a colleague.

I wanted him, wanted to know what it would feel like to surrender to him, to let him push me until I broke.

No. That wasn’t me, right?

Ishouldn’tlet a man get the best of me.

I’d worked too hard to be taken seriously in my field, spent too many late nights and early mornings proving I could hold my own in an industry full of arrogant egos and charmers just like him. I knew the type—smooth, confident, always expecting women to fall in line with a well-placed smile and a few practiced words. I’d seen it before, and I’d learned how to keep my distance, how to laugh it off without getting pulled in. Men like him didn’t rattle me.

And yet… there was something about him, some unsettling quality I couldn’t shake. Maybe it was the way he looked at me, like he already knew exactly who I was, what I wanted—even when I didn’t want to admit it. It was maddening.

And too fucking arousing.

I leaned back, letting the thoughts wash over me, trying not to give in, but it was too late. The images, the memory of him holding me, the feel of his fingers against my skin, his voice murmuring those words.

Daddy.

Fuck me.

I let out a low groan, squeezing my thighs together. What would it feel like if I just given in? If I let myself break, to surrender, to feel his power, his control?

To call him Daddy…

Why couldn’t I get my mind off that single word? Why did it have such an effect on me? How could the thought of it have my heart racing, my skin tingling, and arousal curling tighter in my core?

My hand slid beneath the waistband of my skirt, seeking out the sensitive spot between my legs.

Imagining it was him.

I pictured him pulling me close, his lips at my ear, his hand sliding down, slipping beneath the fabric, his fingers teasing against the dampness of my panties, his voice dark and commanding.

He would push them aside, his fingers exploring, sliding into me, filling me, making me gasp, my head falling back against his shoulder as he whispered, “You’re so wet, Amy.”

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