Chapter 10 #2
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—needed her. 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.
When we finally broke apart, both of us breathless, my lips swollen and my body trembling, she rested her forehead against mine.
“That,” she murmured, voice husky, “wasn’t supposed to happen tonight.”
I smiled, breathless, still perched on her lap. “Then don’t make me get off.”
Her chuckle rumbled low in her chest, warm and dangerous. She smoothed a hand over my hair. “You’ll be the end of me, Seraphina.”
And I realized I wanted that.
I wanted her.
When the heat finally simmered between us, Mistress V guided me off her lap with a steady hand and brushed her thumb across my cheek. “Text your sister,” she reminded softly, her tone calm but brooking no argument.
I grabbed my phone, still trembling, and typed:
Hey Jo. I need to talk to you tomorrow about something serious. Please don’t brush me off, okay?
Her reply came fast:
Jo
Of course, Sera. I’m here. Love you.
The knot in my chest loosened a little, though my stomach still flipped with nerves.
Mistress V read over my shoulder, nodded in approval, then cupped my chin. “Good girl. Now—bath time.”
The words hit somewhere low and sweet. She took my hand, led me to the bathroom, and turned on the water, pouring in sweet-smelling bubbles until the tub foamed. “Clothes off,” she said gently, and I obeyed, slipping into the warm water with a sigh.
She sat on the edge of the tub, sleeves rolled up, washing my hair with slow, careful fingers. Every stroke down my scalp unraveled the last of my tension. By the time she rinsed me off and wrapped me in a towel, I was sleepy and pliant.
She dressed me in soft pajamas, tucked me into bed beneath my fleece blanket, and read from a storybook she’d pulled from my nightstand. Her voice was steady, warm, like it was wrapping me in something thicker than blankets. I fell asleep before she finished the story.
I don’t know how long I slept before the dream came. But it gutted me.
Josephina’s voice, cold and sharp, telling me I was disgusting.
That she never wanted to see me again. That I was nothing.
I woke with a choked sob, tears streaming down my face.
My chest ached, and I couldn’t breathe past the terror clawing at me.
Without thinking, I scrambled out of bed and down the hall, my feet carrying me straight to Mistress V.
I shoved at her door and stumbled inside. “Mistress—Daddy—” My voice broke. I was crying too hard to stop myself. “I dreamed she—Jo—she hated me. She disowned me. It was so real, I—”
She was already out of bed, arms wrapping around me before I finished. “Shh, little one. It was just a dream,” she whispered hoarsely into my hair, holding me tight. “Just a dream.”
I clung to her shirt, trembling. “Can I—can I sleep with you? Please?”
Her lips pressed to my temple. “Yes. Always yes.”
She tucked me into her bed, curling me close to her chest, one arm banded around me protectively. Her heartbeat was steady beneath my ear, an anchor I hadn’t realized I needed so badly.
“Sleep, Seraphina,” she murmured, stroking my hair. “I’ve got you.”
And with her warmth around me, the shadows finally loosened their grip. I drifted back to sleep, safer than I’d ever felt.