24. Lexi
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
LEXI
Who knew a day off could feel so good? I napped, enjoyed a fancy lunch that the chef prepared, napped again, and watched some reality TV. I texted the girls to let them know I wouldn’t be coming into the casino today, and the only reply I received was, ‘Whatever!’
Now, I find myself alone in Valentin’s office. Waiting. Bored as fuck.
Sipping the last drop of white wine, I sit at the table, my pink floral dress flowing elegantly around me, braless, allowing my nipples to subtly show through the soft fabric.
It’s been a few weeks since I first started spending nights in this loft, and I must admit, I never paid much attention to the place, aside from the bedroom.
The warehouse is enormous, at least ten times larger than mine. The first floor is filled with an array of vehicles, workout equipment, and several locked doors that I can only assume lead to a basement where he stores his weapons.
The loft itself isn’t anything spectacular. It includes just the bedroom, living room, kitchen, and dining room. However, I find Valentin’s office to be particularly intriguing. I imagine he spends most of his time in here deciding who lives or who dies.
The expansive windows showcase a stunning view of the water, and his imposing desk is paired with a luxurious leather chair that sinks, as if he spends too many hours sitting at it.
I glance at the lonely bookshelf, adorned with pictures of his late wife and sons.
I refuse to let jealousy creep in over someone who is deceased.
The office includes a cozy living area, furnished with leather couches and armchairs that encircle a table topped with an ashtray filled with remnants of burnt-out cigars. A lonely table sits empty, devoid of paperwork. Despite the understated décor, the office radiates an air of undeniable wealth.
I wonder whether the Brigadier has always preferred to live this way. He owned a large house in upstate New York, but was that merely to impress his wife, or did he revel in such opulence? Personally, I prefer this place. It’s simple and serves its purpose.
I can envision a future where I have a space just like this, with soldiers at my command, cars at the ready with a snap of my fingers, and ample wealth to have my own chef without ever resorting to another grilled cheese sandwich.
I can get used to this lifestyle, but I’d prefer to earn it rather than fuck my way to it. I hope Valentin understands that, remembering his offer to buy me a car this morning.
The sound of the warehouse door draws my attention, piercing the heavy atmosphere, filled with men chatting, radios buzzing, and the tapping of shoes on the metal stairs as someone approaches.
When the Brigadier steps into his office, he demands my attention. He’s sexy and dominant. Untouchable.
But when his gaze falls on me, a slight, crooked smile teasing at the corners of his lips lights a fire burning deep in my core. In that single look, I know he is mine.
“How was work?” I ask, thinking that’s what women do when their man comes home from work. I think I saw it on TV once—definitely not something I witnessed between my nonexistent parents growing up.
“Bad day,” he grunts, rubbing his hand over his face.
“Is there anything I can help with?”
Valentin walks over to me. “Come with me,” he whispers, his thumb gently grazing my bottom lip.
Those three powerful words send a thrill through me, tightening my chest, and my eyes widen in response to his delicious, commanding tone.
“Yes, Daddy,” I murmur, clearly expressing my consent to his command. A spark of excitement spontaneously ignites in my belly, an electric thrill racing through me and crashing back down to my core with an exhilarating thud.
Valentin takes my hand firmly, guiding me from his office to his bedroom. Our bedroom.
I pause at the foot of the bed, waiting for his next instruction. His eyes fall to my chest, the dress cascading low over my nipples as the strap hangs off my shoulder. “Take off the dress.”
I comply without hesitation, sliding the dress off my shoulders.
My skin tingles as the delicate fabric falls away, pooling at my feet and leaving my waist bare, since I’m not permitted to wear any underwear.
He tightly grips my hair, the pressure sending a jolt of pain through me. “You filthy little slut,” he snarls into my mouth. “Waiting in my office, teasing me with those hardened nipples, flaunting them under that dress as if they don’t already belong to me.”
I gasp, a mix of shame and desire swirling within me, causing my thighs to tighten and my core to throb. “Sorry, Daddy,” I whimper. “I—I misbehaved.”
“Did you think I wouldn’t punish you for teasing me?” His voice—deep, menacing, and resolute—pierces through me like static electricity, sending shivers down my legs. The rush of anticipation is so intense that it nearly overwhelms me.
“Let me feel how wet you are,” he groans, parting my thighs with his hand. His fingers slide between my folds, finding my needy pussy.
“That’s my girl,” he whispers, easing two fingers inside me unexpectedly. The abrupt sensation causes me to tighten around him, and a moan tears from my throat as his fingers curl deeply within me.
“Stroke me,” he growls.
“Yes, Daddy,” I breathe into his neck. My hands unzip his pants and pull out his cock. I wrap my hand around his thick shaft and tug on it.
“Harder,” he commands, his teeth grazing my ear. “Keep going until I tell you to stop.”
I obey, working him firmly as his thumb presses to my clit, making tormenting sweeps.
“Who owns this sweet little cunt?” he growls, making my thighs quake.
“Daddy does,” I answer breathlessly. “Daddy owns my cunt.”
He rubs my clit with relentless firmness, the burn almost too much to bear, but the pain twists into raw pleasure. I begin to rock against him, one hand still working his cock, the other clinging around his shoulder. Each thrust of his finger makes me breathe out a moan.
His touch is brutal, but gentle.
“Stop!” Valentin is in control, and I love him for it. I stop jerking him and drop my hands back to my side.
He withdraws his fingers from me and then pushes them into my mouth, the tip of his finger striking the back of my throat, making me instantly gag. I feel the instinct to pull away, but his grip on my hair tightens, holding me exactly where he wants me.
My mind spins with submission, a heady mix of fear and arousal surging through me.
He releases my hair, his hand gripping my neck firmly, without any mercy. He pushes me forward until my chest bends low and my face is pressed onto the mattress.
He spreads my ass cheeks wide, relishing the sight of me so helplessly exposed. “
His hands dig into my hips so hard they leave bruises as he rams forward in a punishing, savage thrust. My pussy clenches tight around his cock as he draws out and slams back into me once again.
His movements are brutal and extreme, catching me off guard.
I scream, but it only makes him slam into me harder.
“Fucking little slut, you like making me hard, don’t you?”
“Yes,” I whimper.
My obedience brings out a sexual aggressiveness in him that makes me wet with anticipation.
But something’s off. His movements are filled with anger, but not directed at me. It’s as if someone has pissed him off and now he’s taking it out on me in this bedroom.
I don’t mind it though. I like it when he’s rough. The pain I feel from him is like a jarring static connection between two things that were never meant to intertwine.
He yanks my head back by my hair, forcing my eyes open.
With my hair wrapped tight in his fist, I can feel every rough snap of his hips, forcing me to submit and endure whatever he’s doing to me.
A hand grips my breasts with such intensity that it sends a shock through my body, a wet sound breaking free from my throat.
I’m about to come when he stops fucking me suddenly. “Did Daddy say you can come?”
“No, Daddy.” He withdraws from me, and my knees buckle.
“Lie on the bed,” he commands, and I obey, settling on my side of the bed and resting my head on the pillow, motionless. He takes his time, standing over me as he slowly removes his suit, his silk tie held firmly in one hand. Kneeling above me, his knees frame my face.
With a decisive motion, he lifts my arms above my head, drawing me closer to the headboard and swiftly binding my wrists with his tie.
“You’re going to watch me punish your pussy.”
“Yes, Daddy,” I reply, pulling at the bind, but it feels too tight to budge. I remind myself of the trust I have in him, take a steadying breath, and gaze into his eyes.
He opens my legs, stretching them as wide as my thighs allow across the bed. I lift my hips toward his waist, begging him to fuck me.
“Patience,” he groans, holding my face and then kissing me deeply.
He runs his coarse hands against my skin, avoiding my breasts and pussy. He takes his time kissing, licking, and biting all over the front of my body.
He’s clearly demonstrating his control over me, showing me that he can act according to his desires. If he wants things to move quickly, that’s exactly how it will be, and if he prefers to take his time, then I’ll remain here, willing to accept it.
It’s clear I have daddy issues and probably should have just gone to therapy. But fuck it! This is way more fun!
Valentin bends down and wraps his tongue around my clit, which quickly swells into a vivid, engorged pink bud. He starts sucking it, and a massive pleasure wave begins building inside me. One flick of his tongue makes me erupt with loud groans. So quick and intense.
“Did I say you could come?”
“No,” I whimper, preparing myself for my punishment.
He grips my throat hard and pushes up against my chin, forcing me down into the mattress, then pinning me against the bed as my breath quickens, and I struggle to catch any air.