7. Emma
Seven
Emma
God, I’m so close .
My legs were shaking. Every nerve was pulled tight, begging to be released, my thighs clenching around nothing, because he won’t give me what I need. He’s there, I feel him there, but his hands are everywhere except where I want them. Every brush of his fingers on my hips, my ribs, and my neck is like a spark and a taunt at the same time.
I’m soaked. I can feel it, warm and slick between my legs. The way he touches me just for a moment only to stop and say, “Not yet, baby,” like I’m some kind of toy he’s winding up over and over.
And the worst part? I fucking love it. I love the way he’s using me. I love the way my body trembles for him, the way my breath hitches every time he so much as grazes my clit before pulling away. I love the way he watches me… possessive, patient, and a little cruel, like he’s memorizing every twitch, every whimper, every time I lose my pride just a little more. I didn’t even need to tell him what I needed, what I wanted. He just knew, and he gave it to me. Willingly.
I want to scream. I want to sob. I want to beg .
My fingers curled into the sheets. My lips parted, moaning some broken version of his name, and I don’t even care anymore how desperate I sound.
“Please,” I whispered again.
But he doesn’t answer. Not with words. Just that look, the one that says he’s in charge, and I gave him that right the second I said, “Ruin me.”
And oh, he is. He’s ruining me perfectly.
He slid two fingers in, slowly, curling them just right, making me cry out, my hips bucking wildly.
This is the fourth time he’s brought me here. Right to the edge. Right to the fucking cliff . “Fuck, I’m about to come.” I pant.
Instantly he stops, and I whimper at the empty feeling inside me of losing his fingers.
Every time he backs off, I feel like I might die. And every time he starts again, I feel like I might live .
I’m not even sure which one I want anymore. But when his mouth lowers again, his breath hot against my skin, and he whispers, “You can come when you beg for it, Little Fighter,” I break.
I’ll say anything. I’ll give him everything. I want so badly to please him and give him what he wants.
Every denied orgasm, every cruel whisper, every time he stopped right when I thought I could finally fall apart. And now I’m here, trembling, wrecked, ruined , and still aching for him.
“Please,” I sobbed, my voice hoarse. “Please, Daddy… I need it. I can’t, I can’t take it anymore .”
There. I said it. He won. I want him to win. I want him to own every broken, desperate part of me. He exhaled with a smile, knowing he had won.
“Good girl,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the inside of my thigh. “You finally mean it.”
His mouth finds my clit, and holy fuck, he knows what he’s doing. The second he sucks, hard and deep, everything inside me snaps. I come so violently it nearly scares me.
My back arched, my thighs slammed around his head, and my scream ripped from my throat. It’s not just pleasure. It’s relief . But still, I want more.
“I need your cock.” I whined, begging yet again for him.
“You’re squirming already,” he murmured, dragging a single finger down the side of my neck. “And I haven’t even fucked you yet.”
“Then change that.” I smirked, knowing he’ll punish me for it.
He shook his head. “Still such a brat after that?”
“Yes, Daddy.” I answered with a small smile.
“I like you like this,” he admitted, brushing his lips across my jaw. “Needy.” He ran his hands down my sides slowly, making me writhe.
“Please…” I whispered.
“Please, what?” His breath ghosted over my collarbone.
“Fuck me. Stop teasing. Just-”
His palm pressed to my chest, not hard, just enough to still me. “You don’t give orders here, baby girl. You ask . And maybe, if I think you’ve earned it, I’ll give you what you need.”
“Please, Daddy.”
“Mmm. Better.” He leaned in, his mouth barely brushing mine. “But not good enough.”
I whined, pulling against his pants as his hand slid between my thighs, pulling them apart, and smirking as he looked down at my pussy. “Such a pretty mess,” he smirked. “Dripping and desperate, but still trying to be a brat.”
“I can be good,” I promised.
“Oh, you will be,” he said, pressing a kiss just below my ear. “Because I’m not giving you my dick until I hear you beg for it.”
“Daddy, I need you to fuck me. Please, I’ll be good for you. I need… more.”
He looked like he was thinking about it. Wanting to give me what I wanted, finally. Removing his pants and boxers, my cheeks instantly heated at the size of him. Fucking hell, he was going to ruin me in all the best ways possible. He palmed himself, stroking his precum over his head and letting out a husky moan that made me shiver. He put a condom on, looking at me with his dark eyes.
“I’m dying here,” I whined.
In one fast movement, he shoved inside me, seating himself all the way until there was no more room for him to go. I clawed at his back, gasping for air as he removed himself and did it again and again and again. I’m not sure any other guy could even compare to this. This is the type of sex you read about in books and wish you were the FMC. Connor whispered more things in my ear, but my brain was shorting out, not knowing where we began and ended in this situation and never wanting to find out. Never wanting this to end.
“Is that better, baby?”
“Yes,” I cried, moving with him, climbing higher and higher.
His thumb started to rub a small circle on my clit, driving me insane and knowing I’d come again if he kept this up.
“Come for me,” he commanded, rubbing faster, fucking me faster.
As easily as he said it, I crumbled for him just as fast. My orgasm flew through me, sending my whole body shaking as I rode it out, and he got even deeper if that was possible. It didn’t take him long to crumble with me, jerking and stalling inside me with an animal-like growl that made me whimper. I knew sex with Connor would be like this… hot. Passionate. Everything I was missing.
I’m not sure how long I stayed like that, floating, shaking, crying into the sheets, but eventually I felt him climb up beside me, his hands gentle again, the Daddy voice returning.
“There she is,” he murmured, brushing the hair from my damp forehead. “My perfect girl.”
I melted into his chest, unable to speak, just nodding, still trembling from the aftershocks.
He wrapped a blanket around us both, his arms caging me in tight. I feel… claimed, cared for. Like I’d just been broken down and built back up in the span of minutes.
“I’ve got you now,” he promised against my hair. “I’m here.”
And at that moment, I believed him. Not just because he made me come harder than I ever have in my life. But because he held me afterward like I was his .