Chapter 17 - Vince #3
Her hips lifted on their own, meeting the rhythm I gave her. She was learning it. Matching it. Giving it back.
“Baby…” My hand slid under her ass, lifting her so her pelvis tilted just right.
I kissed down her collarbone, her shoulder, every place I could reach while staying buried deep.
The sound she made, her first real long moan, tore straight through my sanity.
Her body clamped around me so tight I saw white.
“Fuck,” I groaned into her throat.
She whimpered again, hips twitching upward, a desperate little push like she was begging for more without knowing how to say it.
“You like that?” My voice dropped, darker. “You like Daddy fucking you deeper?”
Her answer was a needy, choked moan that snapped something in me clean in half. No more restraint.
“No more slow. You’re begging for it… and I need it.”
Her eyes widened, fear and want tangled together, but then she nodded, whispering, “Yes. Please, Daddy.”
My chest clenched with something holy.
I forced myself to check: “What’s your safe word?”
“Red. And I’ll tell you if I need it.”
I kissed her, slow, grateful, possessive, and then I moved.
Really moved. Deep, controlled thrusts that had her gasping into my shoulder, nails dragging across my back.
“You gave me your virginity, baby. My good girl. My brave girl. Daddy is so proud of you.”
She moaned again, louder now, her voice crumbling under the rhythm I set.
I held her hips steady with one hand, kissed every trembling part of her I could reach, her cheek, her shoulder, the inside of her wrist.
“You’re mine, My girl. My sub. Made for this” I whispered between thrusts.
Her breath broke. “Daddy—”
“I know, baby. I know.”
I moved harder, praising her between every thrust, lifting her, kissing her, worshipping every part of her as she gasped and whimpered and arched like she’d never known she could.
“Taking me so deep… look at you, baby…”
Her breathing broke. The sight of it, her first-time wrapped around my cock, trusting me with everything. Fuck. It finished me.
I thrust once—twice—buried myself deep—and heat rush through me, filling her with my come as I groaned into her neck, holding her hips firmly against mine.
I stayed over her, panting against her cheek, refusing to pull out yet. Not when she was still shaking. I kissed her everywhere.
Across her cheek, the corner of her mouth, “So fucking proud of you,” I kissed her throat, the hollow of her collarbone. “You did so good for me baby. So fucking good for daddy.” Little, reverent brushes of my mouth like I could mark every place that had just taken me.
She made a small, wrecked sound and melted heavier into the mattress. My fingers traced lazy paths down her back. My girl was minutes away from falling asleep. I could sense it.
When I slid my arm under her and started to lift, she groaned like I’d just asked her to run laps.
“What are you doing,” she muffled against my chest.
“We’re getting up.”
“No, we’re not. I like it here. This is my new permanent residence.” Her arms tried to tighten around me, she barely had the strength.
I huffed, kissing her hairline. “You have to move, baby.”
“Why,”
“Because you have to pee.”
That got her blinking. “What?”
“You heard me.”
I scooped her up, blanket and all, her legs instinctively wrapping around my waist even though she was too tired to cling properly. Every part of her felt boneless and used and mine. Crow-deep satisfaction rolled through my chest.
“In case I wasn’t clear, this feels illegal.”
“It’s basic biology.”
She tipped her head back enough to squint at me. “You’re making me pee as aftercare?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
I carried her into the ensuite, flipping the light on low. I turned the soft lights on. I did not want her flinching from lights.
I set her down carefully in front of the toilet, hands steady at her waist until she found her balance, “Because you’re going to pee after sex. Every time.”
“That’s only for… like… sometimes,”
“No.” My thumbs rubbed slow circles into her hips. “It’s for always. If my dick’s been inside you. After I eat you. After I get you off with my hand. I’m not letting you get a UTI because of me.”
Her eyes widened. “You pee after oral too?”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“Now you do.”
She stared at the floor for a second like it had personally betrayed her. “How do you know this and I don’t? This feels unfair.”
“Because I do my homework.” My mouth brushed her forehead. “I take care of my girl.”
She shifted her weight, wincing a little at the new angle. I tightened my grip until she steadied.
“You’re seriously just going to stand there and supervise?”
“Yes.”
She squinted. “You have no boundaries.”
A low laugh shook out of me. “You’re right.”
Her brows pinched.
“There won’t be boundaries,” I went on, softer. “You’re mine. I’m yours. That’s the point.”
“Obsessive much?”
“Exactly.” I tipped her chin up, my thumb sweeping lightly along her jaw. “That’s why we’re Dom and sub, not boyfriend and girlfriend. You get a Crow-level control freak who overthinks everything so you don’t have to.”
“You really are overthinking this.”
“Good. You don’t need to. You just sit. Pee. Let me handle the rest.”
She smiled. “You’re impossible.”
“Sit, Madeline.”
She rolled her eyes but did it, lowering herself, one hand braced on my forearm. I stayed until she was stable, then forced myself to step back.
Every instinct screamed at me to hover.
What if her legs gave out? What if she got dizzy? What if the pain hit harder now we’d stopped?
Her palm lifted weakly, shooing me. “Out. I can pee by myself.”
I hesitated.
“Vince.” A look over her shoulder. “Doorway. Compromise.”
Doorway.
Fine.
I moved back to the threshold, one hand on the frame, body angled so I could hear every shift in her breathing. Not looking directly at her, but not leaving either. Close enough to catch her if something went wrong.
She muttered something about this being the weirdest, sweetest thing anyone had ever done for her.
Good.
Let it be weird. Let everyone else in her life call her dramatic and inconvenient and too much work. I’d take the work. I’d memorise every small, quiet thing her body needed and bulldoze the world to give it to her.
My girl wasn’t getting infections, pain, or neglect on my watch.
A moment later, the flush went, water ran, and she washed her hands, moving slowly, carefully. When she reached for the edge of the vanity to balance, I was already there, sliding an arm under her knees and lifting her again.
“Vince, I can walk.”
“I know.” My grip tightened. “I don’t want you to.”
She went quiet at that, arms sliding around my neck, face burying in my shoulder like she’d accepted defeat to gravity and my control.
Back in the bedroom, I set her down in the centre of the mattress and climbed in beside her, dragging her gently onto my chest. One hand went straight to her spine, mapping it again, checking every muscle for tension.
She exhaled, long, the sound punching straight through my ribs.
“Comfortable?”
She nodded against me. “I like it here.”
Good.
My hand kept moving, slow, steady strokes down her back. My mind ran its own possessive checklist, water next time, painkillers stocked in the drawer, different positions when she wasn’t already worn out from work, more lube, longer warm-up, better pillows.
Hypervigilant. Obsessive. Exactly what I’d warned her about. She got the full weight of it now.
I was going to make sure she never walked away from our bed thinking sex meant pain without care.
“You okay?” Fingers brushed up and down her spine.
Her body softened even more. “Yeah.”
“You sure?”
She nuzzled closer. “You’re very… thorough.”
“Get used to it.” My mouth pressed into her hair. “You’re everything to me. I look after everything that touches you. Including me.”
She went quiet long enough that I wondered if she’d slipped under. Then a tiny, sleepy huff.
“Okay, Daddy.”
Yeah.
I was fucked.