Chapter 16
Natasha
“Thank you, Daddy,” I say after Simone drives away. “That was the most fun ever. Did you mean it that she can come study with me again?”
“Of course, Little one. As long as the two of you don’t get into too much trouble, she’s welcome to come over.” He takes my hand and leads me up the elegant front stairs.
When we reach my bedroom, he stops and tips my head back with one hand. “I’m serious about pulling stunts with Camden. Do not do anything to jeopardize his career, understood?”
I nod. “I’ll talk to Simone about it.”
“I know your friend has googly eyes for Camden, but he’s a professional. He will not allow himself to do anything to risk his job, especially not by flirting with a woman.”
“Do you think he likes her that way? I mean, if she wasn’t one of his students?”
“It doesn’t matter. She is his student, and he’s her professor. End of story. Don’t take risks with his job.”
“Yes, Sir.” I feel like there’s a chance Professor Arnalt is interested in Simone, and Mr. Hoffman would certainly know. Plus, his warning seems important. I will talk to Simone and tell her that it’s imperative to get through the end of the year.
“Now, I left a nightie on your vanity. Go change, brush your teeth, and go potty, then I’ll tuck you in.”
I light up. “You will?”
“Yes. If you’re going to call me Daddy, I better start tucking you in. It’s in the Daddy rule book.”
I giggle before I turn to rush into my bathroom. There are instant flutters in my tummy at the thought of him tucking me in. I can feel him behind me, wandering into my room, but I don’t look back.
I close the bathroom door, strip out of my clothes, drop them in the hamper, pee, brush my teeth, let my hair down, and last, pick up the nightie. The breath catches in my throat. Holy shimoly. He’s left me a nightgown every night this week, but I’ve never seen this one before.
It’s a similar style to the others—dainty, short, and feminine—but this one is nearly see-through. It’s a pale pink with a delicate lace trim and spaghetti straps. When I lower it over my head and step up to the full-length mirror behind the door, arousal consumes me.
It barely covers my pussy and bottom, but that hardly matters since it’s so sheer. My small breasts are high and tight. My nipples are hard points. With my hair tumbling around my shoulders, I look like I could seduce a monk. I can’t believe Mr. Hoffman left this for me to wear on the night he’s also standing in my room waiting to tuck me in.
What does it mean? Will he touch me, finally?
Taking a deep breath, I turn off the bathroom light, open the door, and walk into my bedroom. My heart is racing as I see Mr. Hoffman. He’s standing at one of the windows, staring out into the darkness. The only light on in the room is the lamp next to my bed.
“Sir?” I whisper.
“Get under the covers, Little one.” His voice is deep and sexy. He doesn’t turn around.
My heart is racing as I do as I’m told, though I’m a bit disappointed that he’s not going to see this unbelievably revealing nightie on me. As soon as I’m in bed with the covers pulled over my chest, I murmur, “Okay, Daddy.”
He turns toward me and comes across the room to sit on the edge of my bed. He sets a hand on my thigh over the covers. “Do you like the nightie, Little one?”
My voice is breathy when I respond. “Yes, Sir. I was hoping you were going to see it.”
“I will. Someday. But I wanted you to have it tonight. You were such a good girl today. You deserve a reward.”
“This nightie?” I fail to see how the nightie alone is a reward if he’s not going to touch me.
“Mmm. There’s more to your reward.”
My heart skips a beat. Maybe he is going to touch me. Please …
“Are you wearing anything besides the nightie, Little one?”
“No, Sir,” I whisper.
“Good girl.” He removes his hand from my thigh. “Bend your knees and spread them wide.”
The air leaves my lungs, and I’m shaking as I do as I’m told. I feel so open and vulnerable that I arch my hips and moan.
Mr. Hoffman sets his palm on my inner thigh over the covers and applies just enough pressure to drive me wild. How can I be this aroused? No one is touching me or seeing my body.
“Slide your hands under the covers, Little one,” he commands in a gravelly voice.
I can’t breathe. I’m going to hyperventilate. My hands are trembling as I lower them to my stomach. Wetness is leaking out of me. My pussy is wide open and greedy.
“Good girl.” He rubs my thigh with his thumb. “Such a good girl.”
I stare at him, panting.
“Push your nightie up over your little breasts, Natasha.”
I slide my hands under the thin material and ease it up until my boobs are exposed to nothing but the sheet above them. This is so hot. So oddly titillating.
“Good girl,” he praises again. “Play with those little nipples for me. Don’t pinch them. Just tease them with your thumbs. Graze over them. Make them hard.”
I hold his gaze as I touch myself. My legs are trembling. My sex is throbbing. My clit feels swollen. When I try to lift my hips again, Daddy holds my leg down, preventing me from squirming.
“Don’t touch your clit yet, Little one. I know you need contact, but don’t rub it against the sheet.”
He knows that’s what I need. I’m going to die if I don’t get relief soon. I’ve never felt this aroused. Not even when I played with my nipples in the mirror that night.
“How do you feel, Natasha?” he asks in a soft sexy voice.
I whimper. “So horny, Sir.”
“Slide one hand down to your pussy, Little one.”
I do as I’m told, as though he’s a puppet master and I’m a marionette. I can’t disobey him. I don’t want to disobey him. I will obey him for the rest of my life because it feels so good to submit to him, and he’s so dominant.
“Drag your middle finger through your folds.”
I moan as the sensations spiral out of control. This is not how I saw things happening when I put this nightie on. As usual, he’s surprising me.
“Are you wet, Natasha?”
“So wet, Sir.”
“Circle your clit for me.”
I try to arch again.
He shifts his weight and turns more toward me before suddenly lifting his hand and placing both hands on my inner thighs. His face is closer to mine. He’s holding my gaze hostage. He’s restraining my thighs so wide that my vision blurs.
“Daddy…” I moan.
“Have you ever put a finger in your pussy, Little one?”
I shake my head. He knows I have not.
“What’s been inside your tight channel, Natasha?”
“Tampons, Sir.”
“Good. Don’t enter yourself tonight. Save that for Daddy. Just stroke your folds and play with your clit.”
I groan as I resume touching myself. My other thumb flicks my nipple over and over as if it’s operating on its own accord. My clit is so sensitive that I would fly off the bed if he weren’t pinning me down.
A ball of pressure is building inside me. It needs release. I stroke my clit faster and faster. I don’t need more wetness, but it’s running between my legs. I want to thrust my fingers inside me. No, I want Daddy to do it. But he told me no, so I focus on my clit until I can’t think about anything except the climb, the build, the unknown. I’m going to explode. I’m so close. I can’t see, breathe, or think.
“Come for me, Natasha. Come on your fingers.”
I fly apart. The pressure erupts in pulsing waves of intense pleasure that I’ve never experienced before. It feels so good. When it finally subsides, I’m breathing heavily and smiling.
Eventually, I’m able to focus on Daddy, and he’s swallowing hard. His expression is serious. His chest is heaving. “My God, Natasha. You are the most beautiful Little girl on the planet. I’m so humbled. I’m going to give you the next few days because I insisted, but please tell me you’re mine on Sunday. I don’t think I could stand it if you don’t.”
I’m panting as I stare at him. He’s almost broken. Emotions are flying for both of us. I can’t open my mouth without crying. I want to be his now . I want him to yank away the covers and thrust into me. Three days seems like a lifetime.
He bends forward and kisses my forehead, lingering for a long time before he releases my thighs and stands. He stares down at me, not moving. I’m not moving either. My legs are still spread open. My fingers are still on my breast and my pussy.
“Will you do one more thing for me, Little one?”
“Anything, Daddy.”
“Bring those naughty fingers to your mouth and suck your sweet juices off them.”
I gasp.
He reaches up and strokes my cheek with one finger before dragging it gently over my lips. “Open for me, Little one.”
I part my lips.
He drops his hand on the other side of my head. “Suck your fingers, Natasha. Taste yourself.”
“Daddy…” Doing that seems so naughty…
He leans in closer, holding my gaze. “Bring those pretty fingers to your mouth, Little one. While I watch.”
My heart is racing as I pull my trembling hand from under the covers and touch my lips with my fingers.
“Mmm. Suck them, Natasha.”
This is so dirty.
I put them into my mouth and suck, letting my cheeks hollow. I bet it looks like I’m sucking his erection. I taste my salty musk. When I ease them out with a pop, he groans.
“Mine.” He suddenly lowers his lips to those same fingers and drags them into his mouth.
I watch, stunned, as he sucks my fingers clean, running his tongue all up and down the two digits. He never moves his gaze from mine. It’s the hottest thing ever. I’m drowning in his eyes.
When he releases them, he quickly stands and rushes toward the door. Before he leaves my room, he turns the lock on the inside, and then he flees, shutting it. Locking himself out.
I stare at the door. I don’t hear him moving away. I know he’s standing on the other side. I can picture him bent over, hands on his thighs, panting, needy. His cock must be painfully hard.
And I’m lying here, not quite satisfied, because I want that cock inside me. I can’t move. I don’t want to. I don’t close my knees. I eventually lower my eyelids as my breathing evens out, and I fall asleep, splayed open, my nightie pushed up above my breasts.
I dream of Daddy hovering over me, pushing into me. Claiming me. He orders me to take all of him. He tells me when to come. He holds me down and thrusts in and out so hard that I lose myself in him entirely. I’m not an individual anymore. I’m his Little girl.
I’m his.
He’s mine .
We’re one entity.