Page 11 of Power Play Daddies
“Come on, Daisy.” His voice is low, coaxing. “This is good, right?”
I nod because it’s true. It is good. Too good.
His fingers slide under the hem of the shirt I’m wearing, skimming my skin. “Say it.”
I swallow hard. “It’s good.”
He pulls the shirt off me. I smile.
He grins like he’s won, and before I can say anything else, he’s pulling me toward his bedroom. I don’t resist, not when his lips find mine again, not when his hands are already tugging my panties down.
“Beau,” I whisper as he pushes me onto the mattress, his body settling over mine.
“Yeah?” His hand slides between my thighs, teasing, and my hips jerk against his touch.
“Condom,” I manage, my voice breathless.
“Good girl,” he murmurs, pulling away just long enough to grab one from the nightstand.
I take the moment to admire him, the way his muscles shift as he moves, the sharp cut of his jaw, the ink on his skin. He’s not just hot—he’s a goddamn masterpiece.
When he turns back, I’m lying there like an idiot. He catches me staring and smirks, like he knows exactly what I’m thinking.
“Like what you see?”
I roll my eyes, but my cheeks burn. “Just get over here.”
He laughs, low and deep, and climbs back onto the bed, his hands sliding up my thighs as he positions himself between them.
He lifts one of my legs, resting it on his shoulder, and the stretch makes me gasp.
“You okay?” he asks, his voice softer now, like he actually cares.
I nod. “Yeah. Just… go slow.”
He does, sliding into me inch by inch, and it’s so much. Too much, but I don’t want him to stop.
“Fuck,” he groans. “You’re so tight.”
“Beau,” I gasp, gripping the sheets as he starts to move, slow and steady.
“You’re so fucking good,” he mutters, his hands gripping my hips as he thrusts deeper.
It’s overwhelming, the way he fills me, the way he moves like he owns my body. And maybe, for tonight, he does.
As he picks up the pace, I lose track of everything but him—the way he growls my name, the way his hands feel on my skin, the way he’s wrecking me in the best possible way.
“Daisy,” he says, his voice rough. “You’re mine tonight.”
I don’t argue. I can’t. Because he’s right.
For the next few hours, I’m his, and I let him take everything.
The blaring alarm slices through my sleep, and for a second, I don’t know where the hell I am. My eyes dart around, landing on the massive windows letting in the faintest glow of early dawn.
Oh.Right.Beau’s place.
I turn my head, and there he is, sprawled out on his stomach, completely dead to the world. One arm’s slung over the side ofthe bed, and the sheet’s barely covering his very fine, very naked ass.
