Page 128 of Unorthodox
I suck in a breath. “I want to remember.”
His fingers dig into the flesh on my thigh.
“Remind me that I’m still here.” I swallow down the lump in my throat. “Still in thishell.”
He stares at me in the dark a long, long moment, his fingers digging into my jaw. My thigh. “Is this hell?” he finally asks me, his voice hoarse. “Being here with me?” There’s something vulnerable in that question, but even still.
I don’t hesitate.“Yes.”
He doesn’t wait after that. Without asking, without warning, he pushes his finger roughly into me.
I tense, gasping against his mouth, my fingers digging into his biceps beneath the sleeve of his shirt.
It doesn’t hurt as he pulls out and pushes back in, but it’s…shocking. And it is hell, because just as it has so many times before, my body betrays me.
I start to like it.
I start to likehim.
I whimper against him, unable to spread my legs further because of my shorts caught around my knees.
He pushes another finger into me.
At first, it’s almost painful when I’m not quite ready, but as he twists his fingers slowly, and I’m coating him in my own wetness, it starts to feel…good.
“Max,” I whisper, my lips brushing his.
“No,” he says roughly, picking up the pace as he fingers me, his other hand still gripping my chin. “Not right now.”
I frown in the dark, his brow pressed to mine as he pushes in and out of me so hard, I can hear the slick sounds of me against him. “W-what?”
“Right now, I’m something you never had, baby girl.” He pulls my bottom lip between his teeth and I arch my back, feeling his knuckles pressing against me as he pushes into me so fucking deep. “You want this to be hell? I’ll make it fucking worse.”
My mind is spinning with his words. There are a lot of things I never had, and the only word Ben ever taught me to use was “sir”.
Max kisses me again, but then he pulls his fingers out, and I whimper, bucking my hips. Wanting him back.
He grabs my inner thigh, and I feel how wet I am.
“If you don’t know who I am, baby girl, I can’t finish thishellfor you.” He turns my head, runs his nose along my jaw, then down to my neck, biting and sucking me as I arch into him. “Who am I, Addison?” I feel the words vibrate against my skin.
My eyes are closed, my frustration mounting, and I hate that I want him back where he was. And just as he starts to pull away, his hand sliding off of my thigh, his mouth breaking away from my throat, it hits me, what he wants me to call him.
I’ve never said the word, probably not even when I was a child. My father and I didn’t have a good relationship at any point in my life. I’m not sure I ever even called him “Dad”. It was always “Father”, or, if I wanted to take my best chance of not getting in his way, not getting in his bed, it was nothing at all.
Max’s hand slides to my throat. “Who am I? If this is your hell,who am I?”
“Daddy,”I whisper the word with my eyes closed, my cheeks heating.
There’s a beat of silence, then his hand inches up my thigh, his finger brushing against my clit.
I shiver, biting my lip.
“Say it louder.” His voice is rough, almost animalistic. I can hear the lust in his words.
I swallow down my nerves, keep my eyes closed. “Daddy,” I say again, a little louder.
His finger trails down my slit, and I moan as he pushes two back into me, filling me up again.
