Chapter Eight Earned It #2
His hand slid boldly between my spread thighs without warning. Two thick fingers parted my soaked folds, and he let out a low, rumbling growl of approval that vibrated straight through me.
“Fuck, look at you,” he said, voice dripping with filthy praise. “Dripping like a desperate little whore just from a few swats on your ass. Your pretty cunt is soaked.”
He dragged his fingers slowly through my slickness, spreading my wetness all over my swollen pussy lips and to my throbbing clit. My hips jerked hard, a needy whine escaping my throat as I pressed my burning face into the sheets.
Then his tone dropped, turning darker, meaner.
“You little slut.”
I froze.
The words kept coming, still calm, still part of the scene, but something in me had already gone tight.
He kept stroking me lazily, fingers gliding through my dripping folds as he continued, calm and cruel. “So fucking worked up just from getting your ass paddled. Look at this greedy little cunt, clenching and leaking all over my fingers like you’re dying to be used.”
I had thought I would like this part part.
I had really thought I would.
He kept teasing me, two fingers sliding up and down my slick slit, occasionally brushing my swollen clit just enough to make my thighs tremble.
“Maybe I should leave you here like this,” he mused, voice silky and dangerous.
“Ass bright red, cunt dripping down your thighs, door wide open for anyone to walk in and see what a pathetic, needy little slut you are.”
And I hated how much that twisted something ugly inside my chest.
On paper it had sounded filthy and hot and easy to get into. But hearing it out loud while I was actually here, half bound and wet and open for him, it didn’t land the way I expected. Instead of making me feel wanted, it made me feel cheap.
And I hated that.
“No.”
The word flew out of me so fast I barely even realized I’d said it.
The room went still.
I pressed my lips together immediately, embarrassed all over again, because of course he was not actually going to do that. We had talked through this. It was part of the scene. I knew that. I had been the one to include this.
But knowing it did not stop the panic that had hit me the second he said it.
His hand gentled.
“Tell me what you’re thinking.”
I hesitated, then let out a shaky breath. “I don’t want anyone else seeing me like this.”
He stayed quiet.
I swallowed and forced the rest out. “I only want Daddy doing these things to me.”
That changed everything.
A second later he moved into my line of sight, one hand sliding under my jaw to turn my face toward him before he kissed me. It was not a soft little reassuring kiss either. It was deep and claiming and sure enough to make my whole body loosen with relief.
When he pulled back, his thumb stroked once over my cheek.
“That’s all talk, baby girl,” he said. “No one gets to see you like this but me. You’re mine.”
Mine.
That was what I wanted.
Not humiliation. Not being talked down to until I felt cheap and exposed in the worst way.
What I wanted was this. Him correcting me because he knew I could do better, because he saw more in me than me just being some messy little thing to use up and toss aside.
I wanted him taking control of me in a way that felt possessive instead of degrading, like every touch and every word was about pulling me closer to him.
And more than anything, I wanted this exact feeling pressing in on me right now, the certainty that I could trust him enough to try things like this and still stop or change them in the middle if I needed to, because he would listen.
“Then fuck me,” I blurted, the words spilling out before I could stop them.
He laughed, low and rough, and the sound went straight through me.
“What a dirty fucking mouth you have, baby girl.”
Before I could answer, his hand cracked hard across my other cheek, the sharp smack making me gasp and arch. Then he moved down behind me, spreading my thighs wider with his hands.
The first slow, hot swipe of his tongue along my dripping slit ripped a broken “Oh, fuck” from my throat. My fingers twisted hard in the cuffs, the leather biting into my wrists as pleasure jolted through me.
He made a pleased sound against me and went right back in.
His tongue was relentless—precise, experienced, devastating.
He licked broad and slow from my clit all the way up to my tight little hole.
Licking. Sucking at my clit. Shifting pressure until I was squirming against the wedge pillow and trying not to lose my mind.
I really could get used to this.
That was the dangerous thought.
Because it was not just that he was good at it, although he absolutely was. It was that every time he touched me like this, it got easier to let go. Easier to trust him. Easier to surrender. Easier to stop trying to control what my body did and just let it react however it wanted.
And with him, my body wanted a lot.
The orgasm came fast and hard, tearing through me before I could brace for it, and I cried out into the sheets while he held me steady through it.
When he finally pulled back, I was a trembling, dripping mess.
“There you go,” he murmured, voice thick with satisfaction. “Such a good girl, coming so hard on my tongue. You’re getting so good at coming for me.”
My whole body went hot at that praise.
“You’ve earned my cock now, baby.”
I felt the thick, blunt head of his cock drag through my wetness once, lining up, and then he pushed in.
I moaned into the mattress at the stretch of him.
He didn’t rush. At first he gave me one long, deliberate stroke, then another, each one forcing me wider, making me feel every thick inch claiming my pussy.
Then his pace deepened, turning into a steady, powerful rhythm that kept me teetering right on the edge.
Arching back for more even as I struggled to take it all.
“That’s it,” he growled, voice rough. “Take every inch of Daddy’s cock like the greedy little sub you are.”
Thrust.
“What a good little sub you are. Taking every...”
Thrust.
"I give you."
Thrust.
"Look at you, so pretty with your ass still red from my paddle."
Thrust.
“Cunt swallowing my cock.”
And then he lost some of that careful control.
His hands gripped my hips hard enough to bruise, fingers digging into my flesh as his thrusts turned faster, deeper, rougher.
The wet, obscene sounds of him pounding into my soaked pussy filled the room.
Low, filthy groans escaped him every time he buried himself to the hilt, and the raw possession in every thrust made my head spin.
He was not just fucking me. He was taking me apart with it, making sure I felt every inch of who I belonged to in that moment.
I came again around him, crying out when the force of it clamped me down tight on his cock, and he cursed low behind me and fucked me right through it, harder now, rougher, like he was chasing his own end and done pretending otherwise.
The final thrusts were almost brutal.
Then he yanked out with a guttural groan and came hot and thick across my back in heavy, pulsing ropes. The sudden splash of his cum on my skin made me gasp, the filthy heat of it marking me, dripping down my spine and between my reddened cheeks.
It should have felt filthy.
It did feel filthy.
But it also felt like something else.
Claimed.
Cherished.
Like he was marking his territory on purpose, painting me with proof that I belonged to him.
For a second neither of us moved.
Then everything slowed.
He unfastened the cuffs, smoothed a hand over my back, and leaned down to press a kiss to my shoulder while I was still catching my breath.
“You so good for me baby girl.” he said.
That almost undid me worse than the sex.
He got up and got a towel from somewhere in the room, cleaning me up himself with a care that made the whole thing feel softer without taking away any of what had happened. By the time he was done, I was limp and boneless and not even pretending I could move on my own.
He stretched out beside me and pulled me against him, one arm around my waist, and I went without hesitation, curling into his side while my body kept floating down.
For a while neither of us said much.
I think he knew I was still trying to process the part where I had learned something about myself in the middle of the scene. About what I liked and what I didn’t.
Eventually I tipped my head enough to look up at him. “I didn’t like the slut part.”
His hand moved once over my hip. “I know.”
That made me blink. “You knew?”
“I figured it out the second you said no.”
I let out a breath and looked back down at his chest. “I thought I would. On paper it sounded hot.”
He hummed softly. “A lot of things sound hot until they aren’t.”
I smiled a little at that. “That’s annoyingly reasonable.”
“It’s also useful.”
I traced one fingertip over his shirt without really thinking about it. “I liked the rest.”
His mouth curved. “I noticed.”
Heat climbed back into my face, but not enough to make me hide. Not now.
After a minute he said, “What you wanted tonight was possession.”
I stayed quiet.
He was right.
“You wanted to feel claimed,” he went on, voice low and steady. “Not humiliated. That’s an important difference.”
I nodded into his chest. “Yeah.”
His hand settled at the back of my neck, holding me there in a way that made the answer feel bigger somehow.
“We’ll keep learning you,” he said.
That should have been simple.
It wasn’t.
Something about the way he said it, like there was no rush and no frustration in the process, made my throat feel tight for a second. So instead of saying anything stupid, I just curled into him a little closer and let the silence sit.
It felt good.
When he finally kissed the top of my head and told me I had earned a few minutes there before he got me dressed again, I smiled into his shirt and let myself stay exactly where I was, half draped over him, marked all over and still warm from what we had done.
And if I ended up thinking that I could get used to this too, I kept that part to myself.
I did not let myself think too hard about what happened when the repairs were done and I had to go back home, or what this was supposed to look like when summer ended, or worse, what happened when my dad got back from London and everything stopped feeling so suspended and easy.
Those thoughts were there, dark and waiting, but right then it felt too good to be there with him to give them any real room.