Chapter 19
With my face pressed hard to the cool, unforgiving wall, the shock of the swat steals my breath. My ass burns, a hot, stinging fire spreading across the exposed cheek Damon just struck, a brand of his fury and his fear. Before I can even process the first searing impact, his hand comes down again.
CRACK
The sound is sharp in the small, enclosed space, a stark contrast to the muffled chaos echoing outside. I jolt, a cry catching in my throat, my hands flat against the wall, trying to brace myself. The cool water pooling on the floor around my feet mocks the fire igniting on my skin.
CRACK
Tears spring to my eyes instantly, blurring my vision as the heat ripples across my flesh. It’s a deep, throbbing ache that has as much to do with pain as it does with him. With the sheer intensity of the moment, of his body caging mine, his rage is palpable when he presses against my back.
“This is what happens to naughty brats who don’t listen to their Daddy,” he growls, the low, dangerous rumble against the shell of my ear.
The vibrations sink into my bones, a terrifying thrill chasing the pain.
His breath is hot and ragged. The Marines and the chaos outside are all a distant, fuzzy nightmare compared to the sharp reality of his hand on my body.
Another strike lands, and this time, a choked sob escapes me.
My tears spill over, tracking down my cheeks, but the cry that follows isn’t all pain.
It’s something else, something tangled and confusing…
The sound of my surrender. My traitorous body reacts to his rough possession in ways I never could have expected.
Heat blooms low in my belly, a direct counterpoint to the stinging heat on my ass.
My core clenches, a deep, pulling ache that has nothing to do with fear and everything to do with the man punishing me.
“This is for you, so you learn,” he grits out, his voice strained.
He’s not just angry. He’s shaken. I can feel it in the tremor that runs through his hand and the way his chest heaves against my back.
He was scared. For me. The realization hits me with the force of his blows, and it changes everything.
His hand comes down again, softer this time, almost a caress, and a breathy, wanton moan that I barely recognize as my own rises from my lungs. It’s a sound of need, of a deep, primal craving for this… for him.
He stills, his palm resting against my heated, stinging flesh.
Leaning in, his lips press to the side of my neck, a stark contrast to the roughness of his hand moments before.
He rubs over the warm flesh of my backside, his touch possessive, soothing, and arousing all at once, the friction sending new sparks skittering across my skin.
“Are you ready to apologize for not listening?” he whispers, his lips brushing against my hot, damp skin. “Or do you need another?”
My breath hitches, the thought of another strike sending a shiver of both trepidation and anticipation through me. I shake my head against the wall, my voice barely a whisper. “I’m sorry.”
His grip tightens on my sore ass cheek, silently demanding more. I instantly understand, swallowing past the lump in my throat, the tears, and the desire. “I’m sorry, Daddy.”
“That’s my good girl,” he breathes in a dark praise that causes my pussy to clench. He pulls back slightly, his gaze on the handprint he’s left on my skin. “Fuck, look at that. My mark on you.” His voice is thick with satisfaction.
I feel the shift in his weight and hear the faint rustle of his wet clothes as he sinks to his knees behind me.
Without hesitation, he places his lips on the handprint, leaving a soft kiss against the center of the stinging burn.
The gesture is so tender against the roughness that a fresh wave of tears pricks at my eyes.
His lips and tongue feel amazing over the still-tingling skin.
He’s not just kissing it to soothe the hurt he inflicted; he’s worshipping it.
His tongue traces the curve of my hip, then dips lower, running along the sensitive crease where my ass meets my thigh.
A jolt of pure electricity shoots through me, and I have to bite my lip to keep from crying out.
Every nerve ending in my body is hypersensitive yet screaming for more.
“My good girl is naughty,” he murmurs huskily against my skin.
His lips trail lower, toward the sensitive skin of my inner thigh.
“So fucking naughty.” With his face close to the apex of my thighs, he inhales deeply.
“I can smell how wet you are, trouble. Soaked for me, even when you’re being punished. ”
Shame and arousal war within me, but arousal wins by a landslide.
He pushes between my thighs from behind, his breath is hot against the thin, chlorine-scented fabric of my bikini bottoms. His lips press through the material, and he places a firm, deliberate kiss against my pussy.
My knees wobble, and my body trembles as a broken moan tears from my throat.
“Fuck,” he groans, the sound muffled. He stands abruptly and buries his face in the nape of my neck, his arms wrapping around my waist, pulling my back against his chest. His heart is still hammering, a wild, frantic beat against my spine.
“As much as I want to taste you, this isn’t the time. ” His voice is ragged with frustration.
The reality of the situation and the danger outside this room crash back in.
He turns me around, and his hands frame my face as his eyes search mine.
His are still dark with lingering fury and fear, but they’re also filled with desperate, burning desire.
My own eyes are still slightly teary, but I know they’re full of the same need that is consuming him.
His lips crash against mine. It’s not soft or gentle.
It’s a punishing, passionate kiss, full of need.
His tongue delves into my mouth, claiming every part of me.
His hunger for me is so tangible and desperate, it’s frightening, a force of nature that even a perimeter breach can’t fully contain.
He kisses me like he’s trying to crawl inside me, to mark me from the inside out, before pulling back just enough to grumble against my lips, “Fuck, it.”
Consequences be damned, he grabs my arm and pulls me from the wall.
In one fluid, powerful motion, he lifts me, setting me down on the cold, concrete counter of a storage shelf.
My bare ass connects with the hard surface, and I hiss at the contact, the cool sting a fresh reminder of the still-burning handprint.
Damon doesn’t give me a moment to adjust. He stands between my thighs with his hands on my knees, roughly pushing them apart. His gaze is locked on the center of me, on the soaked scrap of fabric hiding what he wants. He drops to his knees before me, like he’s praying to a god he’s about to defile.
He leans in, and his breath is hot against my core.
He kisses and licks at me through the bathing suit, his tongue tracing the seam of my pussy and pressing against my clit.
The fabric is a frustrating, delicious barrier, heightening every sensation.
I squirm above him, my fingers finding purchase on the edge of the shelf as my head falls back.
His fingers hook under the side of my bikini bottoms, pulling them to the side and exposing me to his hungry gaze. The air is cool when it hits me, but his stare is hot enough to burn my wet flesh. He wastes no time pressing his lips against me, his tongue licking in a slow, deliberate exploration.
This is intimate in a way I’ve never experienced, a vulnerability so complete it’s terrifying and exhilarating all at once.
He licks and sucks, his mouth learning every curve and sensitive spot.
My moans and whimpers fill the small room, shameless and unrestrained.
My fingers find their way into his hair, tangling in the long, disheveled strands, holding him to me, silently begging for more.
He focuses on my clit, circling it with his tongue before sucking it gently, and my entire body bows toward his.
“Do you like Daddy’s tongue on your swollen little clit?” he asks, his voice a muffled, wicked vibration on my most sensitive flesh.
“Yes, Daddy,” I pant, the words falling from my lips without thought, a natural response to his command.
“Then show me, trouble. Come all over my face, and I’ll show you how good it feels when I add a finger,” he growls, the words a dark promise.
The challenge, permission, and sheer filthiness of his command send me hurtling toward the edge.
His fingers slide through the tuft of hair above my pussy, and he fists it lightly as he doubles his efforts.
The possessive tug sends a sharp pulse of heat straight through me, my entire body tightening at the sensation.
His tongue flattens against my clit, flicking rapidly, while his lips maintain a perfect, suctioning seal.
The sounds he’s making are obscene—wet, hungry, and appreciative.
He’s devouring me. And the thought that he’s enjoying this as much as I am is what finally breaks me.
My orgasm slams into me with the force of a tidal wave, a blinding, shattering rush that steals my breath and my sight.
I cry out his name, a broken, desperate mewl, my thighs shaking uncontrollably as wave after wave of pleasure crashes through me.
My entire body clenches and releases, pulsing against his mouth, but he doesn’t stop.
He drinks it all in, his tongue working me through every single spasm until I’m a boneless, trembling mess above him.
As promised, when the last aftershock is still rippling through me, he eases a single finger inside.
The invasion is slow and deliberate. He’s gentle, but the stretch is a slight, burning pressure, a new, different sensation that makes me gasp.
He pauses, letting me adjust. His mouth still hovers over my clit, his warm breath a constant tease as his finger presses fully inside.
He curls it, and a bolt of pure, electric pleasure shoots through me, so intense it’s almost painful. It hits a spot deep inside my pussy I didn’t even know existed, a place that makes my toes curl and my back arch. A sharp cry escapes my lips, and my thighs clamp around his head.
“There it is,” he moans his satisfaction against my core. He begins to move his finger, in a soft beckoning motion against that sensitive spot as his tongue returns to my clit, licking and sucking in a rhythm designed to destroy me.
It’s too much, but I want more. The dual sensations are a perfect, exquisite torment, pulling me taut as they wind me tighter and tighter.
The second orgasm builds faster, more ferociously than the first. It’s a wild, untamed thing, and I’m helpless against it.
My hips buck against his face, chasing the friction and pressure.
His finger and tongue move with devastating precision, pushing me higher and higher until I’m dangling over the precipice, certain I’m going to die from the impending fall.
With one final, perfectly placed curl of his finger and a hard suck on my clit, I tumble.
My world fractures into a million pieces, and I scream, a raw, ragged sound of pure ecstasy.
My vision whites out, and for a moment, I’m completely weightless, lost in the storm of sensation.
It’s a pleasure so profound, it feels like a religious experience, a complete and utter surrender to the man who brought me here.
He slowly withdraws his finger, and the loss is a dull ache.
He places one last, soft kiss on my oversensitive clit, a final, tender claim before he begins to kiss his way up my body.
His lips are a trail of fire, marking a path over my stomach, my ribs, and the valley between my breasts.
When he reaches my face, he kisses the tears still drying on my cheeks.
With his lips pressed to mine, he kisses me deeply, slower than before. I can taste myself on his lips and tongue, a musky and intimate flavor. It’s dirty, and it’s perfect. I kiss him back with everything I have, my arms wrapping around his neck to pull him closer.
My body is humming, still pulsing with the aftershocks, but a new hunger is taking over. A need to feel him, all of him. My hand drifts between our bodies, my fingers fumbling with the heavy buckle of his belt. I tug at it, my clumsy movements a clear signal of what I want.
He stills my hand, his grip firm but not painful. He pulls back just enough to look at me, his dark eyes searching mine. They’re filled with a potent mix of desire, awe, and tenderness. “Are you sure?” he asks in a low, rough whisper. “In here? Now?”
The question hangs in the air between us, heavy and meaningful.
He’s giving me an out. A chance to stop this, to wait for a bed, for safety, to be certain I’m ready.
But there is nothing normal about us. There is only this chaotic, dangerous, and all-consuming fire.
I stare up at the man who just spanked me for my recklessness, then worshipped me with his mouth, and I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.
My answer is breathless, full of all the need and desire he’s unleashed in me. “Yes, Daddy.”