Page 84 of Bet On Me, Daddy

Oh god, oh god, oh god.

Could they tell what she was doing? Were her feet positioned weird? Had they heard her playing with herself when they walked in?

Oh sweet baby Jesus, could theysmellher? The scent of her own arousal was so strong in her own nose, her knees nearly buckled with humiliation at the thought that someone else might be able to smell it as well.

Why the hell had she agreed to this?

Oh, right. Because she was a good girl, and her Daddy had asked her to. And instead of safewording the fuck out like a normal human being, she’d willingly put herself in a situation where someone could overhear her edging herself for her Daddy’s pleasure.

Would he enjoy this more, knowing she’d almost gotten caught? Knowing her humiliation was riding at an all-time high as she stood, frozen, waiting for the person in the other stall to finish their business?

The thought that her discomfort would please him should have pissed her off. Somewhere in the back of her mind, a little voice whispered that this wasn’t normal. Thatshewasn’t normal.

Because it didn’t piss her off. It only made her already aching clit throb even harder with need, knowing that he would enjoy hearing about this added humiliation. That he would simply smirk when she told him about how embarrassing itwas, standing in that bathroom stall, terrified she might be discovered.

That when she was done, when she returned to their table with her face flaming and her heart still pounding with that delicious combination of fear and excitement, he would simply take her hand in his and call her his good girl. And that it would all be worth it for those two words.

Maybe she wasn’t normal. But she was Beckett Stone’s good girl, and that was a hell of a lot better than normal.

With that in mind, she tilted the phone up so he could see her face when she whispered her next words. “Two, Sir.”

Ignoring the shuffling in the stall beside her, she stroked her wet, needy pussy, driving herself to that knife’s edge of pleasure a third time as a second person walked into the bathroom. The humiliation was still there, but it only lent an edge to her excitement as she took herself to the brink and forced herself back.

“Three, Sir.”

Did her new companions hear her? The thought of being overheard, of two strangers knowing what a good girl she was being for her Daddy nearly sent her flying over the edge of oblivion.

As she waited, again, for the need to fade to a more tolerable level, her ‘audience’ exited the bathroom. She was almost disappointed she wouldn’t be able to perform for them some more, but the disappointment faded as soon as her fingers went back to work.

“F-four, Sir,” she gasped out, her fingers trembling as she forced them away from her poor, aching clit. “Daddy, please. I’m dying here. Please let me come.”

It was useless to beg. Not only because Beckett wouldn’t hear it until she sent him the video after the fact, but because even ifhecouldhear her, she knew damn well he wouldn’t relent. Not until she’d done exactly as he’d asked.

But it no doubt would amuse him, and please him, to know she’d been so mindless with need she’d ignored all common sense and begged anyway.

One more. You just need one more. You can do it, baby.

His voice in her head was the only thing giving her enough strength to push toward that fifth, painful almost-orgasm. And by the time she reached that sharp edge one final time, her hands were trembling so hard she nearly dropped her phone.

“Five, Sir!”

Breaths coming in gulping, gasping lungfuls, she braced herself against the wall of the bathroom stall as her system settled. At least somewhat. Even when her breathing had calmed and it no longer felt like her heart was trying to beat right out of her chest, the ache between her thighs remained. So much so that when she stopped recording to pull her panties and jeans back up, she actually whimpered when the material pressed against her clit.

With her clothes back in place, she pulled up Beckett’s texts and attached the video. And paused.

She hadn’t sent a video like this to anyone in a very long time. Not in years. Not sincehim.

Would Beckett honor his promise not to watch it in the restaurant? Would he keep it to himself? Would he try to use it against her when their situationship finally ran her course?

Closing her eyes, she let her head fall back against the wall. Maybe it was stupid, reckless to trust someone that much. But if she couldn’t trust Beckett Stone to keep his word, then she wasn’t sure she could trust anyone.

So she forced her eyes open, forced herself to send the video before she could second-guess her own sanity, then shoved the phone back into her pocket.

On shaky legs, she exited the bathroom stall to wash her hands before making her way back to the table. Her face felt like the surface of the sun, and she justkneweveryone in the restaurant could tell what she’d been up to in there.

But none of that mattered. The only person whose opinion she actually gave a damn about was watching her approach, that little smirk she’d expected to see playing on his lips as she slid into the booth.

“You look… adorably mussed, Ruby Red. Were you a good girl for me?”

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