Page 55 of Daddy's Christmas Obsession
"I don't know how," I admit, the truth slipping out before I can stop it.
A knowing smile curves his lips. "For someone who claims not to know how to surrender, you certainly knew how to get on your knees and suck my cock last night." His finger traces the lineof my collarbone, dipping to the hollow of my throat where my pulse hammers traitorously. "You couldn't have been resisting that hard when you were swallowing every drop, calling me 'Daddy' like it was the most natural thing in the world."
Heat floods my cheeks at the memory, my body betraying me with a rush of arousal even as my mind recoils from his crude accuracy. "That was just physical. Just... biology."
“No.” Victor's hand slides into my hair, gently but firmly tilting my head back. "I know what it was. It was the first honest moment between us. The first time you allowed yourself to show what you truly want." His lips hover just above mine, not quite touching. "Let me show you how good it can be, Kyra. When you stop fighting. When you allow yourself to be taken care of. To be cherished. To be possessed."
"And if I say no?" I manage to ask, my breath coming faster despite my best efforts to remain unmoved.
Victor's expression hardens, that momentary tenderness vanishing like smoke. "No isn't an option, Kyra." His hand tightens in my hair, not enough to hurt but sufficient to demonstrate his control. "You have nothing to go back to. I've made certain of that. Your funding is gone. Your apartment lease terminated. Your reputation in academic circles..." He shrugs, the gesture casually cruel. "Let's just say I've made some calls. Raised some questions about your methodology that would be... difficult to answer."
“You really did think of everything."
"I told you—I leave nothing to chance." His thumb brushes across my lower lip, the gentle touch a stark contrast to his merciless words. "The question isn't whether you'll be mine, beautiful girl. The question is how much resistance you'll put up before accepting the inevitable."
His certainty sends a shameful thrill through my body. There's a dark comfort in his absolute control, in the knowledge that he wants me enough to destroy everything else in my life.
"Why are you doing this?" I ask, my voice small.
"Because you're mine," he says simply, as if stating an obvious fact. "You've always been mine. From that first moment in my study. Everything else—your relationship with my son, your career, your independent life—was just a temporary diversion from your true purpose."
"Which is?"
"Belonging to me." His voice drops, becoming almost hypnotic. "Being the perfect partner to a man who can truly appreciate your brilliance. A man who understands what you need even when you fight against it."
His words penetrate defenses I didn't know were crumbling. The truth I've been running from since I arrived in this cabin, perhaps since that first meeting in his study three years ago, rises to the surface, impossible to ignore any longer.
Part of me wants this. Wantshim. The darkness he offers, the freedom of surrender, the relief of not having to be strong all the time.
"You're manipulating me," I whisper, a last desperate attempt to hold onto my resolve.
"I'm revealing you to yourself," Victor corrects gently. "Showing you what you've been too afraid to admit you need."
His lips finally meet mine, the kiss devastatingly gentle. Not demanding or forceful, but patient. Coaxing. An invitation rather than a command.
And, fuck, I respond.
My hands find his shoulders, fingers digging into expensive fabric. A sound escapes me as I surrender to the kiss, to the heat building between us, to the dark need I've been denying.
Victor pulls back slightly, his breathing as unsteady as mine. "Tell me what you want, Kyra. I need to hear you say it."
"I want..." The words stick in my throat, the last fragments of resistance refusing to yield.
"The truth," he urges, his hands framing my face. "Just once, allow yourself complete honesty."
I close my eyes, unable to bear the intensity of his gaze as I finally voice the shameful truth. "I want to stop fighting. I'm tired of being strong all the time." My voice cracks. "I want someone to take care of me for once."
"And who do you want that someone to be?" Victor presses, his thumb brushing away a tear I didn't realize had fallen.
"You," I whisper, the admission burning like acid in my throat. "I want it to be you."
His sharp intake of breath is the only indication of how deeply my words affect him. When I open my eyes, the naked hunger in his gaze makes me want to drop to my knees then and there.
"Say it properly," he commands, voice rough with desire. "Tell me who I am to you."
The word hovers on my lips, shameful and exhilarating. "Daddy," I breathe, and watch his eyes darken with hunger. "I want you... Daddy."
With a growl that sounds torn from his very core, he pulls me against him, his mouth claiming mine with a savagery that matches the storm raging inside me. This kiss is devouring, demanding, a physical manifestation of the possession I've just surrendered to.
