Page 4 of Daddy's Vengeance

“You were saying?”

Doing my best to hide my surprise, I raised an eyebrow. “Maybe you’re right where I want you, sweetheart.”

Her derisive snort ended on a gasp when I moved a hand between us, pressing my thumb against the gusset of her panties. When her eyelids fluttered closed, I took advantage of her momentary distraction to flip us back to our original positions.

Eyes flying open, she glared up at me. “You don’t fight fair, cowboy.”

“All is fair in love and war, baby. Now, be a good girl and let Daddy take care of you.”

Adele

Ashocking flash of need followed Cole’s growled command, and I nearly came on the spot. I’d never called a man Daddy, even though I’d played with a few who identified as such here and there. But in that moment, with his lips lighting little fires all along my skin as he worked his way down my body, it just felt right.

“Tell me what you like, sweetheart.” Strong, calloused hands slipped beneath my dress, tugging the skimpy black satin panties over my hips and down my thighs. “Do you want Daddy to eat your pretty little pussy until you scream?”

Oh, god. “I… I…” Confused, at war with myself, my words trailed off as my hips instinctively lifted, seeking his touch.

This was not going at all how I’d imagined. When we’d left the bar, I’d had a very specific plan: a quick bounce, wait for him to roll over and start snoring, then poke around his apartment for clues about his real identity before sneaking back to the dingy hole in the wall I currently called home.

Nowhere in my plans had I accounted for a man who tapped into the submissive inside of me so quickly and easily. It was equal parts terrifying and exhilarating.

One night. I deserved one night of pleasure after three years of near celibacy and complete devotion to my job, right? And it really didn’t change my plans at all. I could still wait for him to fall asleep after and do a quick recon of his apartment.

I would just enjoy the fuck out of him, first.

“Yes,” I finally said, rolling my hips again in a silent plea for him to continue.

His soft hum of approval vibrated against my skin, and I nearly wept with need. “Ask me nicely.”

“What?” He couldn’t possibly mean…

“Say ‘Please eat my pussy and make me come, Daddy’.”

Merde. If he kept speaking to me in that teasing but commanding tone, he wouldn’t even need to touch me to make me come. But although I wanted nothing more than to have his mouth on me, the desire to spar, to push back, to be forced into compliance rose up inside of me. “I am not saying that.”

“Oh, I think you will.”

Heat pulsed between my thighs at the threat in his voice. Pushing up on my elbows, I met his fiery gaze head on. “Make me, cowboy.”

I had no idea what to expect. Part of me desperately wished he’d roll me onto my stomach and paddle my ass until I broke down and obeyed. Maybe he’d even use the thick leather belt around his waist. God, it had been so long since anyone had left his mark on me and the hunger for it was like a living thing inside of me, clawing at my insides, desperate to be fed.

But he didn’t spank me. To my utter disappointment, he pushed his hands up under the hem of my dress and slowly inched it higher. And then his mouth was on me. Not on my aching pussy, where I so desperately wanted him, but right on the bit of skin he’d just exposed.

The touch of his lips sent a shot of electric need straight to my clit and I groaned, rolling my hips again, another silent entreaty for the release I was being denied.

“Ask me,” he murmured, before pressing another hot kiss to my opposite hip.

“No.” Even as the refusal left my lips, a voice in the back of my mind screamed at me to stop being so fucking stubborn.

“Have it your way, sweetheart.”

Inch by torturous inch he pushed the dress up, exposing me to his touch. And each newly uncovered bit of skin was worshiped with his lips, his tongue, until every nerve in my body had been set on fire.

I finally cracked when the fabric of my dress slid up over my breasts. Lowering his head, he traced the outline of my bra with his tongue, and I nearly wept with frustration.

Writhing under him, out of my mind with need, I begged. “Please.”

“Please, what, sweetheart?”

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