Page 27 of Stripping Little Seraphina
My stomach twisted into knots. I wanted to deny it, to laugh it off, but the word sat heavy on my tongue, begging to be freed again. My eyes welled up as I whispered, barely audible, “Daddy.” Because she was.
Mistress V’s expression softened in a way that made my heart ache. No mockery. No rejection. Just understanding. She cupped my cheek, her thumb brushing away the fresh tear that had slipped free.
“There’s no shame in that,” she murmured. “Not here. Not with me.”
The dam inside me cracked. A sob tumbled out, and I buried my face against her shoulder, half jumping into her arms before I could think better of it. She held me tight, her arms wrapping around me like steel and comfort all at once.
“Good girl,” she whispered into my hair. “You don’t have to hide anymore.”
And I believed her.
Her words wrapped around me like a blanket. I clung to her, breathing her in, afraid that if I let go, the safety I felt would vanish.
“Daddy…” I whispered again, testing the weight of it. The way it rolled off my tongue made my whole body shiver.
Mistress V’s chest rose beneath my cheek, her breath catching just slightly. Her hand stayed steady at the back of my head, grounding me. “Say it again.”
I trembled. “Daddy.”
This time her arms tightened around me, and I swore I felt her smile against my hair. My heart pounded so loud I could hear it echoing in my ears. She leaned back just enough to look at me, her thumb brushing my damp cheek. Her eyes were darker than I’d ever seen them, but sharp with something else too—something that made my stomach flip. Desire. There was no mistaking it or the satisfaction beaming back at me.
“You have no idea how much I wanted to hear that from you,” she said, voice husky, like she was confessing something she shouldn’t.
Heat rushed through me. I licked my lips, searching her gaze, afraid she’d pull away, afraid she wouldn’t. The air between us stretched thin, charged with something fragile and overwhelming.
Her hand tipped my chin up. Slowly. Deliberately. “I’m going to kiss you now,” she murmured. “Unless you tell me to stop.”
I didn’t stop her. I couldn’t. Wouldn’t.
The moment her lips touched mine, the world tilted. It wasn’t rough or demanding. It was patient, lingering—like she was memorizing me, sealing a promise into the soft press of her mouth. My fingers fisted in her shirt, pulling her closer, needing more, terrified and desperate at the same time.
When she finally pulled back, her forehead rested against mine. My breathing was ragged, my body trembling, but my chest… my chest felt lighter.
“Good girl,” she whispered, her voice low and steady. “You don’t have to run anymore.”
I blinked up at her, my lips tingling, my heart wide open in my chest. For once, I didn’t feel the need to hide.
Not with her.
The kiss stole my breath, but the ache inside me only grew sharper. I needed more—neededher. I pulled back enough to give her space to sit on the couch. Which she did. Before I could talk myself out of it, I shifted, climbing into her lap. Her eyes widened in surprise, but I pressed my mouth to hers again before she could say anything.
Everything narrowed to the heat of her lips and the steady thud of her heartbeat against me. My hands framed her face, clumsy and greedy, as though I could pull her closer and closer until there was no space left between us.
She let me take what I needed from her for a moment—let me lead—and then her grip tightened at my waist. Strong, commanding. She dragged me against her, swallowing my gasp into the kiss.
And then her hand slid lower.
The sharp smack against my ass made me jolt, a needy whimper escaping before I could stop it. She did it again, firmer, her tongue sliding against mine at the same time, and I nearly came undone right there.
“Daddy—” I breathed against her lips, desperate and dizzy. I ground my hips into hers needing relief.
Her hand cupped me, squeezing, claiming, her control radiating even through the gentleness of the kiss. “You’re playing with fire, little one,” she warned softly, her breath hot against my mouth.
“Maybe I want to,” I whispered back, kissing her harder.
She spanked me again, sharp and deliberate, her other hand tangling in my hair as though to anchor me. The sting only fueled the heat pooling low in my stomach, and I melted into her, kissing her like she was oxygen.
We didn’t rush. We didn’t tumble past the point of no return. Instead, it was all slow burn and aching intensity, a storm of lips and gasps and the sting of her palm on my skin. Every moment wound me tighter yet left me trembling with the knowledge that she was holding us right there, perfectly balanced between restraint and hunger.
