Page 73 of Becoming His Perfect Daddy
Oh god, that deep voice commanding me . . . “I’m not lying. I didn’t want to be the Master or the sub. I just wanted it to be me.”
“Wanted what to be you?”
“I wanted to be on that bench. But I didn’t want Zander.” I took a breath, steeling myself for his reaction. I wasn’t brave enough to do more than whisper the last part. “I wanted it to be you.”
“Fuck,” he breathed, reaching around my waist and flipping me over. His hands instantly started caressing my clothed ass, heating me up. “Are you sure you want this?”
I groaned as my packer rubbed against the mattress, caressing my dick. “Yes, Daddy.”
His breath caught before he growled. “Say it again.”
“What, Daddy?” I fluttered my eyelashes so prettily.
“You know what. Maybe I should give you extra swats for talking back.”
“Oh god.” I moaned.
He tapped my ass lightly, not nearly enough. I moved into his hand, silently pleading for more. At the movement, he spanked me again, this time with more bite to it. I moaned louder.
“You like that, Cameron?”
I nodded against the pillow, and I heard him chuckle.
“Kinda thought you did. Stoplights still good with you?”
My mind instantly flew to Daddy, to S.M.C., to our first encounter. The way he commanded me, even just online . . .
A smack to my ass brought me back. “Where’d you go, boy?”
I wiggled under him at the endearment and the heat blooming in my left cheek. “Well, I definitely like when you call me that. And I’m okay, just an errant thought.”
He went back to caressing my ass again, warming it up, prepping it for something more intense. “Then maybe you need this spanking to help you focus.”
“Oh god, yes, Daddy.”
He pinched my cheeks through the cloth still covering them, and I whimpered.
“You didn’t answer me before: Stoplights still okay?”
I nodded, moaning as he tapped my ass again, still warming it up. “Yes, Daddy.”
I could hear his smirk in his response. “Good.” His caresses turned gentle, and when they didn’t shift after several moments, I looked up at him.
“Daddy?”
“Yes, baby?”
I twisted my head enough to see his response. Time to move this along. “Can we take them down? I want to feel your hand against my bare skin.”
“Hmm . . .” I suspected he was deliberately making me wait for an answer. But then it came. “Nope, not yet.”
His hands massaged my covered cheeks for a few more glorious moments, and it almost made up for him making me wait. But then he stopped.
I froze, fighting against the urge to squirm again, wondering what he was up to. But just as I was about to open my mouth to ask, his growly command ignited my entire body.
“Stand up.”
I pushed to sitting then scrambled to my feet without a word, wanting to ask why but sensing he would show me soon enough. Whatever he had planned, I was one-hundred-percent on board.
