Page 194 of Daddy, Sir

“But you’ve spanked me and then fucked me before. How’s this any different?”

“Spankings to get your attention or for more playful punishments are different. But whenever you earn a serious punishment, there will be no pleasure for at least twenty-four hours.”

“No pleasure for me, you mean,” she grumbled, her bottom lip puffing out in a sulky pout. “You already got yours.”

“Well, yes. I wasn’t the one being punished.”

“True… so why would you deny yourself the pleasure that is my undeniably amazing pussy?”

Adorable little brat. “Your mouth was a perfectly fine consolation prize.”

A knock on the door interrupted whatever response she’d been about to give and he sighed. “That’s our signal. We’ve got about five minutes left, so you need to start getting dressed.”

“I can’t believe you’re really not going to fuck me.” Sliding off his lap, she snatched her dress up from where it had been left in a neatly folded pile on the couch. “I guess it’s a good thing I have plenty of toys at home to help with that kind of thing.”

“You won’t be using those toys or anything else, little girl.”

With her dress pulled halfway up, she stopped to glare at him. “And why the hell not?”

Rising from the couch, he gripped her chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing her head back. Need swirled in the dark brown of her eyes and her breath hitched on her next inhale. “Because your Daddy said so.”

“You wouldn’t even know.”

“Maybe not. But then you’d have to live with the guilt of knowing you did something naughty.”

“I’m not going to feel guilty for making myself come.”

“You’re welcome to test that hypothesis, little siren. But there will be consequences.”

“Dammit,” she muttered, jerking her chin out of her grasp and yanking her dress up the rest of the way. “This issonot fair.”

“If you want to be allowed to come after a scene, then I suggest next time you follow my rules. It’s as simple as that.”

“Legares don’t follow the rules. We make the rules.”

Oh, yeah. He was really,reallystarting to hate that phrase.

Chapter Twelve

Frankie

Three. Fucking. Days.

That was how long she’d been without an orgasm. Holden had gotten caught up in some kind of work emergency for a big client that apparently meant he was basically living at his office. And even though she’d broken down and begged to be allowed to make herself come after her twenty-four-hour ban was up, he’d refused.

Your pleasure belongs to me now, Francesca. Don’t ask again.

That had been his answer last night when they’d talked on the phone and she’d tried every trick in the book to get him to let her pleasure herself. She’d even offered to video chat him so he could watch.

No dice.

Lottie, for her part, had been very sympathetic to her plight. And apologetic, seeing as how Frankie had gotten in so much trouble trying to get information for her. Not that Frankie blamed her, but the sympathy had gone a long way towardsoothing Frankie’s ruffled feathers. As had helping Lottie take pictures for the online auction, especially now that she knew Mr. Elliott, and probably her own Daddy, wouldn’t approve.

Would he punish her, when she inevitably confessed to her part in Lottie’s plan to auction off her cherry to the highest bidder? And if he did, would it be a serious enough punishment for him to deny her again?

Best to wait until after he’d fucked her again to confess, just in case.

Assuming she didn’t actuallydiefrom being denied before then.

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