Chapter 38 Madeline #2
“That’s right.” He kissed the side of my neck. “And every time you get needy, Daddy’s going to give you a few strokes.”
His knuckles ran down my side, “Just enough to calm you. Not enough to finish. Not until after dinner.”
He reached around me to season the meat, hips moving with every motion, sliding inside me in tiny, devastating rolls that made my legs tremble.
He lifted the pan. “If you feel a drip any come. You part your lips, so daddy can put it back where it belongs,”
A flush raced up my chest.
“Where does my come belong?” He nuzzled my cheek, “Don’t go shy sweetheart, where does daddy’s come belong?”
I gently traced his neck, “In me,”
He kissed my cheek, then my jaw, forehead. “Exactly, in my girl.” He gently brushed my hair back. “So you drip, you tell me, you open your mouth. Understood?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
He kissed my shoulder. “Such, a good girl for me.”
I exhaled shakily. He cooked like that, body pressed to mine, cock inside me, hips moving in a slow claiming rhythm that never let me forget exactly who I belonged to.
Every time I whimpered, he gave me a few agonizingly gentle thrusts.
Every time my breath hitched, he pressed a kiss to my jaw.
Halfway through searing the steak, my whole body tightened.
“Daddy…” I whispered.
He set the tongs down immediately. “Needy?”
I nodded, breath shaking. I was so turned on it was ridiculous. He gave me one slow thrust. That felt like a hot wave crashing through my stomach.
HIs hand slid down my back, pressing me closer to him.
“Baby…” he murmured against my neck. “Stop rocking.”
It was barely a tilt of my hips. But every tie I did, his jaw tensed. I felt him fighting to stay focused.
“You’ll get another load if you keep doing that. And Daddy’s trying to cook for you.”
The stupidest, softest sound escaped me. I tried to swallow it.
“Don’t hold it. I want your sounds. All of them.”
This time, he rolled his hips and the moan spilled out before I could swallow it. He made a low, possessive noise in my ear.
“Fuck, you sound sweet when you’re full.”
My fingers tightened on the counter edge.
He chuckled softly. “Dinner can wait.”
Thank. God.
Before I could speak, he lifted me, hands under my thighs, body still locked inside mine, and carried me across the room. His breath was steady; his control wasn’t.
The couch caught the back of my legs. He eased me down, and the second my spine touched the cushions, he leaned over me, mouth at my jaw.
“Arms up. Over the back of the couch. Hold on to something, angel.”
I reached back, gripping the top edge. My heart hammered so loud I felt it in my teeth.
“Quick, cause that dinner smells amazing and you cooked it for us and that’s— honestly— the sweetest thing—” I said, slightly breathless as I gripped the edge of the coach.
He laughed. “You’re adorable when you try to be practical,” he adjusted his hips against mine, slow enough to make my breath catch. “But this—” he thrust, deeper, “—is your fault. For being so fucking gorgeous.”
Heat exploded through me.
“Vince, I need—”
“What do you need?” he asked, feigning innocence, moving just enough to drive me insane. “Tell me what you’re asking Daddy for.”
“You know,” I half-whined, pushing back against him despite how slow he kept it. “You know the pace I need.”
“No, spell it out.” he kissed under my ear.
I groaned, frustrated and wanting. He kept that lazy, torturous rhythm.
“That’s not an answer, sweetheart.”
“Faster,” I whispered.
He hummed like he was thinking.
“No,”
My stomach dropped. “Vince—”
“Try again.”
My pulse tripped over itself. “Deeper.”
“Mm.” Another slow thrust. “Pretty please what?”
Heat hit my cheeks. “Pretty please, Daddy.”
His control snapped. “Fuck—baby—”
He grabbed my hips, pulled me back hard, and gave me exactly what I’d begged for, deep, punishing strokes that made my breath break on every movement.
“You begged for this pace. Now you take all of it. Every. Single. Inch.” he rasped into my neck.
A cry tore out of me.
“That’s it. Good girl. Daddy’s good girl. Ruining me.”
His rhythm broke into something feral. He pulled me up, body folding against his, and shifted his stance, lifting my hips higher to angle me exactly how he wanted.
“Baby—”
I already felt myself slipping. Head going light. Ears ringing. That warm sliding sensation pulling me inward and downward all at once.
Subspace. He felt it happen, the way my arms went soft, my hips trembled.
“Slow. Ease into it. Daddy’s right here.”
But I shook my head. “Don’t—stop—”
His jaw clenched, and his grip tightened. “Baby, if I give you that pace now, you’re gone.”
“I want to be gone,” I breathed. “With you.”
He braced one foot on the ground, lifted my hips, and drove into me deeper than before, slow at first, then exactly the rhythm I’d begged for.
Fast. Deep. Devastating. I sobbed out a sound I didn’t recognise.
“Fuck—baby—”
He held nothing back. My body shook around him. The couch creaked under us. His hands were everywhere, hips, waist, ribs, covering, guiding, claiming.
“Baby—fuck—Daddy’s—close—”
His hand slid to the back of my thigh, hauling me into him one last time. He finished with a low, broken sound, heat flooding inside me again.
My whole body melted.
He held me through it, arms around my waist, chest pressed to my back, breath shaking into my shoulder. For a long moment, neither of us spoke.
His hands moved first, gentle strokes down my sides, grounding touches. Gently kissing the nape of my neck.
“Baby…” he whispered. “Come back to me.”
My fingers relaxed their grip on the couch. My breath softened.
“You’re okay. I’ve got you.”
I turned my head just enough to find his cheek. “I love you,”
His arms tightened painfully. “Madeline…”
Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, but the good kind. He lowered us both onto the couch, pulling me onto his chest without ever leaving me.
Dinner was forgotten at this point. I tucked myself against him, cheek pressed over his heart. His hand cradled the back of my head like I was something sacred.
“Oh, sweetie, you did so good for me. Mm. It was a lot and you took it.” he murmured, kissing down my neck. “I’ll carry you to bed in a minute. Still inside. And if you wake up hungry, baby…” His lips brushed my hair. “I’ll feed you the second your eyes open.”
His hands were already stroking my ribs, gentle, trying to keep me anchored. But I wasn’t anchored.
I pressed my cheek harder to his chest. “Vince…”
“Baby, you’re slipping. Slow down. Breathe.”
But I shook my head, desperate. “No— I want it. I want more.”
His arms tightened around me. “Madeline—”
“Please.” It came out breathless, almost a sob. “I want more subspace. I need you to take me deeper.”
His breath hitched, the sound hot against my shoulder. Silence pulsed between us, one heartbeat too long. Then his hand slid to my jaw, turning my face gently so he could see my eyes. He swore under his breath.
“Sweetheart… tell me what you’re asking.”
My throat tightened.
“Fast,” I whispered. “Deep. Hard. I want to go.”
His grip faltered, just for a second. “Baby…”
He cupped the back of my head, kissed my temple like he was praying, then lifted me, still inside me, with one hand under my thighs and one braced on the couch.
“Hold on,” he murmured. “Daddy’s got you.”
My legs wrapped around him instinctively.
He carried me to the center of the room, set his foot wide on the floor, anchored me against his chest, and pressed my back into the wall.
I gasped at the shock of cool against my back.
His mouth brushed my cheek. “You asked. Now Daddy gives.”
He pulled almost all the way out—and slammed in.
Hard.
The breath punched out of me.
Another thrust, deep, fast, devastating.
I cried out, hands clutching his shoulders, vision blurring.
“That’s it,” he rasped against my throat. “That’s what my girl needs? Hard?”
“Yes— Daddy—”
He growled, an actual growl, and gave me exactly what I begged for. My head fell back against the wall as every thrust sent me higher, lighter, farther away from myself.
“Please, fuck me into subspace again” I whispered, lips brushing his cheek.
“My girl’s going to fucking ruin me.”
He tipped my hips, slid his hands beneath my thighs, and in one smooth motion, repositioned us, a new angle, deeper, against the wall as if he needed to anchor me there.
“You want deep and fast. Daddy’s going to give you deep and fast.”
I nodded, breath shaking.
The second he thrust, everything disappeared.
His hands gripped under my knees, pushing them higher, opening me wider for him. Each movement was sharp, perfect, devastating, hitting a place inside me that made my breath dissolve into broken sounds.
He adjusted his stance, tightening his hold, then he fucked me, again.
Hard.
Fast.
Deep.
My cry tore out of me, high and helpless.
“That’s my girl,” he breathed. “That’s my fucking girl—”
My vision blurred. My legs shook. My chest vibrated with every thrust.
“Daddy— I—”
“I know. I know baby. Don’t fight it. Mm. Keep making your daddy proud.”
I felt high, and so relaxed. The room fell away. And then, I gushed. It was all his fault from the angle. Not a slow spill.
A full, uncontrollable release that splashed between us, down my thighs, onto his wrist, his stomach, the wall behind me.
“Baby…you’re— you’re soaking Daddy—”
I couldn’t answer. I was half-gone, floating, swimming, falling. He looked down. Saw how wet I was for him, how far gone. A sound tore out of him, deep, guttural and so fucking possessive.
“Oh…babygirl…”
His voice cracked.
“You’re gushing in subspace.”
Another gush spilled out around him, my body clenching helplessly.
He thrusted. His fingers circling my clit at the same time. He slammed me back into the wall, his mouth at my throat, his thrusts brutal with control, every movement a vow.
“That’s it,” he growled in my ear. “Let Daddy see. Let Daddy feel it. Ruin me, baby. Ruin me with how wet you are.”
I sobbed his name, barely conscious.
“Good girl. Float. Soak daddy’s dick.”