Chapter 6 Sloane
SLOANE
I'm floating.
That's the only way to describe the boneless, liquid feeling spreading through my limbs as I melt against Ike's chest. His heart pounds against my back, strong and steady like the arm he has wrapped around me.
This is what I've been searching for. This is what my letters hoped to find.
He brushes my hair to the side as he trails kisses over my heated skin.
I shift slightly in his lap, feeling his rock hard erection beneath me, pressing insistently against my bare ass through his jeans.
I move again, deliberately this time, pushing my hips back in a slow grind against him.
His grip tightens, giving me a soft bite that sends a fresh wave of heat through me. "Sloane."
It's a warning and I hear it clearly.
I do it again anyway.
The growl that rumbles through his chest makes my toes curl. His hand slides up to wrap around the column of my throat—not squeezing hard enough to restrict airflow—firm and possessive. His palm is warm and rough against my neck, and I can feel my heartbeat fluttering wildly against his fingers.
"I think someone needs to learn what happens when she teases Daddy."
Every nerve ending in my body lights up.
This dynamic is what I've been waiting for, what I've been fantasizing about since the moment I saw him standing at the edge of my soccer field like some silver-haired god.
"Over my knee. Now."
I hesitate—not because I don't want to, but because I want to savor this moment…the delicious anticipation.
He raises one eyebrow. "Don't make me ask twice."
“Yes, sir,” I say, and get up, then drape myself across his lap quickly.
The position makes me feel vulnerable, and yet powerful. My bare ass is up, completely exposed to him, my weight supported by his strong thighs. His cock presses against my hip, and knowing how much he wants me while he's about to discipline me…
…is intoxicating.
His hand smooths over the curve of my ass, appreciating and exploring. He's making me wait. The anticipation builds with every pass of his palm, every brush of his calloused fingers against my skin.
"You've been teasing me all week with those letters," he says, his voice so low and wicked. "Driving me out of my mind. Do you have any idea what it was like? Reading those words and not knowing who wrote them? Wanting it to be you so badly I couldn't think straight?"
"I—" I start, but the first spank cuts me off, and I gasp.
It's sharp. Not brutal, but firm. The sound echoes through the cabin, followed immediately by the bloom of heat spreading across my left cheek.
"Count them for me, sweetheart."
"One," I manage, my voice already breathy.
The second lands on my right cheek. I jolt forward slightly, my fingers curling into the couch cushion beneath me.
"Two."
He rubs the sting away, his palm soothing, and it's somehow more overwhelming than the spanks themselves. The contrast between the harsh discipline and the gentle care is everything I've ever wanted.
"Good girl," he murmurs. "You're taking your punishment so well."
The praise slides over me like warm, gooey honey. I arch my back, ass taut, silently asking for more.
He obliges. “Such a pretty little ass that begs to be spanked.”
Three. Four. Five. Each one is perfectly placed, alternating cheeks, building a delicious burn that spreads through my entire lower body. He pauses between each one to rub and soothe, with a reward of praise.
"Six," I whimper, squirming on his lap.
"Mmm…" he says, his voice thick with arousal. "My baby is so wet and ready."
Seven. Eight.
He’s right. By nine, I'm dripping. I can feel it coating my inner thighs, and I know he can see it—probably even smell my arousal. Maybe I should be embarrassed, but it only makes me hotter.
Ten lands with a satisfying crack, and I cry out, my hips jerking.
"Ten," I gasp.
His hand smooths over my burning cheeks one more time, then slides lower. His fingers slip through my folds, and I hear his raspy chuckle.
"Absolutely soaked," he says, stroking through my wetness. "You loved getting your bottom spanked, didn't you?"
There's no point in denying it. "Yes, Daddy."
He helps me up from his lap, though he remains seated. My legs are shaky as I find my footing. He looks up at me, his gray eyes searching as he slides his big hands up my thighs. "How are you doing, sweetheart?"
I nod, still catching my breath. "Never better."
He places soft kisses on my thighs. “Good.” The tenderness in his voice makes my chest ache.
This is what separates a real dominant from someone who just wants to play at control. He checks in. He cares. He makes sure I'm with him every step of the way.
I sink to my knees between his spread thighs.
He groans. "Sloane…"
"I want to taste you, Daddy." I look up at him through my lashes, my hands resting on his denim-clad thighs. "Please."
His eyes go molten…dark and hungry as if he’s barely able to control himself. He reaches down and strokes my cheek, then slides his thumb over my lower lip. He pushes it into my mouth. “You think this sexy little mouth can handle my thick cock?”
I nod, sucking his thumb, swirling my tongue around it.
He hisses. “My god, baby. Okay, show Daddy how much you want him."
My fingers tremble slightly as I work his belt open, then the button and zipper of his jeans. He lifts his hips to help me tug them down, and when his cock springs free, my pussy clenches in response.
He really is big. Thick and long, the head flushed and already leaking precum. I wrap my hand around him and he groans, watching me with those intense eyes.
"Fuck," he breathes.
I start slowly, teasing him the way he teased me…licking up the underside, sliding my tongue around the head, pressing kisses to the sensitive velvety tip. His thighs flex under my palms, and I can feel him fighting not to thrust his hips.
Mmm, I want to wreck that control.
I take him into my mouth, hollowing my cheeks as I sink down. He's so big I can only get about halfway before he hits the back of my throat, but I work the rest of him with my hand.
"That mouth," he grunts, threading his fingers through my hair. "Fuck, sweetheart. You look so hot with my cock between your lips."
I moan around him, and he shudders.
I take him deeper, relaxing my throat as I work him. His grip in my hair tightens, and his breathing goes even more ragged. He’s writhing under me and I can feel him getting close—the way his thighs tense, the way his cock begins to pulse against my tongue.
"Oh, Sloane—I'm going to come down your throat," he grits out. "And you're going to swallow every drop. You hear me?”
I shiver and moan my agreement, sucking and stroking with more vigor, and that's all it takes.
He comes with a long guttural groan, hips lifting, cock thickening as he spills down my throat. “Yes, baby girl…god, yes!”
I swallow everything he gives me, milking him through every convulsion until he's shuddering and jerking, cursing in the sexiest way.
"Come here," he finally rasps, hauling me back up into his lap.
He kisses my forehead, my cheeks, my nose, my lips.
"My sweet girl," he murmurs against my mouth, still breathing heavily. "What did I ever do to deserve you?”
I smile. I've never felt more cherished in my entire life.
Before I can catch my breath, he's shifting us, laying me back on the couch. He settles between my thighs, looking down at me with more of that primal hunger.
"Now it's my turn to taste this unbelievable body."
But instead of diving into my pussy like I expect, he lifts my leg, the one with the bad knee, cradling my calf in his large hands.
He starts with soft kisses pressed to each toe, his eyes never leaving my face. It's so unexpectedly tender that my heart throbs.
"I’m going to worship every single inch of you," he murmurs against my skin.
His mouth trails down to my ankle, and when his tongue traces over my tattoo—the tiny soccer ball with wings—I shiver.
"Cute," he says, his lips brushing the ink. "Any more tattoos?”
I shake my head.
He presses another kiss to the tattoo. "Daddy’s going to take his time."
He works his way up my calf, alternating between kisses and soft scrapes of teeth that make my muscles twitch. When he reaches my knee, he pauses.
His thumbs stroke gently over the scarred skin, the place where surgeons put me back together. Then he lowers his head and presses his lips there.
"This knee carried you through everything," he says softly. "Through injury and recovery and starting over. It deserves to be taken care of."
My eyes sting. No one has ever talked about my injury like that. Like it's a battle scar to be honored.
“You all right, baby?” he asks, noticing my eyes.
"Wonderful, Daddy," I whisper.
"Good." He smiles against my skin and continues his journey upward.
His mouth travels up my inner thigh now, and his kisses become hotter, more deliberate. His stubble scrapes against me and I squirm beneath him.
"So soft here," he murmurs, nipping at the tender flesh. "I bet I could make you come just from kissing the tender hollows of these delectable thighs."
"Please—" I don't even know what I'm asking for.
He gets achingly close to my pussy, and I can feel his hot breath as I clench, desperate for his touch.
And then he moves up.
"Ike!" I protest as his mouth skips right over my aching center.
He chuckles, the sound dark and satisfied. "Patience, little girl. We'll get there."
He crawls up my body and captures my mouth in a deep kiss that has me melting into him…his tongue stroking against mine, tasting and claiming. I moan into him, my fingers sliding in his silver hair.
When he pulls back, his eyes are nearly black with want.
"Since the moment you walked across that soccer field, I've thought about having you like this…" he says, voice husky. "Spread out beneath me. All mine to touch and taste and tease."
His mouth drops to my neck, sucking and biting. "In my fantasies, I bent you over the bleachers."
“Daddy!” I gasp, both at his words and at the sting of his teeth against my throat.