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What did I do last night?
I remember going out.
I remember ordering drinks.
After that, nothing.
It’s not the first time I’ve blacked out, but this time it’s different, because of the man who found me, because of what I told him. Now he knows my secret desire. He knows I want a Daddy. He knows he can use my secret to make me obey him, to make me squirm with need.
I’m his little girl now, and his little girl is about to get it.
“You treat me like a little girl,” I say. “Like your little girl. You’re better to me than I deserve. When I screwed up today, I was sure you’d throw me out. But you didn’t. You spanked me.” Fresh tears trickle from my eyes. “It hurts so bad…” I drop my hands to my bottom and rub. “But it also makes me feel…” A flush creeps over my cheek and my teeth worry my bottom lip. Even as my ass is burning, I can feel the throb between my legs. “Maybe I shouldn’t be here. You’re trying to teach me. I know that. But since the first spanking, all I can think of is…being with you. But if you’re my daddy…”
“Not your daddy,” he says. “I’m your daddy dom.” He pulls me to him, kisses me on the top of my head. “There’s a difference.” Now he steps back, taking me by the arms as he looks into my eyes. “When you’re bad, and I spank your ass, I’m spanking you as my little girl. But understand, young lady, if I fuck you, I fuck you as a woman. You’re both, Jill. You’re a little girl on the inside, but a woman on the outside. To deny both parts of who you are would be wrong.”
I look up at him. “Do you want me?” I ask boldly. I must know.
“That’s a loaded question, baby.” He pauses. “Yeah. Yeah, I do. I wanted you the moment I saw you. But at the time, you needed a firm hand more than a hard fucking.”
“I want both,” I say. “Does that make me awful?”
He shakes his head. “No, but baby, I don’t think you know what you’re asking for. I’m not a tender lover.”
“I don’t want tender,” I say. Between my legs, my pussy is pulsing wetness. I don’t care that my ass feels like it’s on fire. I want this. I want it. I need it. “Please,” I say.
He steps back, undoes his tie and removes it. His eyes are riveted on me. I start to lift the hem of my sweater.
“No,” he says. “Don’t undress. You just stand there. You don’t do a thing until I tell you, understand?”
I nod. My nipples are rock hard and aching. The throb between my legs is fierce. He’s unbuttoning his shirt. I watch as the muscles of his broad, bare chest are revealed once again. Pectoralis major. Rectus abdominus. External oblique. My fingers ache to touch them, but I stand obediently in place, my hands at my side — a well-spanked child about to flip the switch and have Max Iver treat me as a woman.
“Please,” I say. He has me on the edge of an orgasm, but whenever I feel like I’m going to come, he withdraws his touch just enough to deny me the pleasure.
His mouth is by my ear. “Here’s a tip for you, baby. I can punish you as a woman, too. How would you feel if I just stopped now? Just stopped and left you hanging with your hot, wet pussy aching to be fucked. How would you feel if I just walked away?”
“Don’t…” It’s a desperate plea. “Please don’t.”
He lays down beside me and lifts me so that I’m straddling his chest.
“Grab the headboard, Jill,” he says, and I lean forward to clasp the wooden frame in front of me. As I do, he lifts my hips and slides under me until I’m straddling his face. I realize his intent just as his tongue slides across the folds of my inner labia, sending a wild rush of pleasure through me.
I’ve had partners perform oral sex, but not like this. He has my hips in his vicelike grip, holding me immobile. He catches my clit, drawing on it with a demanding pressure. I hold back, insecure about coming on the face pressed tight in between my legs, but I can’t resist what he’s doing. The ripple of pleasure rolls through me and I scream, bucking against the stabbing tongue, the nipping teeth that torment and tease my sensitive flesh.
I’m on top. This is typically a dominant position for a woman. But I feel helpless, even with him underneath me, and I realize this is by design. This is Max Iver showing me that no matter how we’re aligned, he is in charge. And this? It’s the sexiest fucking moment of my fucked up life.
His mouth pulls on my clit, draws on it. He’s relentless, and no sooner have I recovered from one orgasm does another knocks me down. My legs are shaking when I find myself on my back and under him once more.
His face is shiny, his eyes glazed with feral lust. I taste my own arousal as his mouth closes on mine, his tongue still demanding as it swoops over mine. He holds my hands above my head with one of his, lifts my left leg with the other. He pushes against me, the covered bulge of his cock pushing against the bare wet mound of my pussy.
He raises to kneeling, and I watch as he pushes his pants and underwear down to free his cock. It’s beautiful, long, and thick, with a network of veins mapping the surface. I want to touch them, to trace them with my fingers. I want to put him in my mouth. But he’s not given me permission.
He rises from the bed and walks across the room. I feel a moment of desperation. Is he going to leave? Is he going to leave he hanging, like he said? Instead, he sits in a small sofa across the room. His cock juts straight up from the apex of his huge muscular thighs.
“Come here,” he says.
My legs are still rubbery as I rise and walk over.
He sits forward, opens his arms to me. “Sit in my lap.”
I obey, but I know he wants more than that. He guides me as I straddle him. I gasp as he centers the mouth of my pussy over the flared head of his cock. I feel the walls of my pussy stretch wide to accommodate the thickness of his cock as it imbeds itself to previously unmatched depths.
“Who’s your daddy?” he asks quietly when he’s inside me.
I almost come from the question, which is asked without sarcasm. He runs his hand down the side of my face, down my arm, all the way down until it’s resting on my hip. He pushes my hair out of my face with the other, puts his thumb to my mouth. I suck on it for a moment, eyes closed, before answering his question.
“You are,” I say. My daddy. My daddy dom. Big daddy, I think. I’m full, full of his cock but also with the satisfaction of knowing this means something to him.
Ava Sinclair bio:
Variety is the spice of life and Ava Sinclair writes a little something for everyone, from dark romance to menage to kinky AF age play. But the one thing that is consistent in her books are strong storylines, alpha males, and strong women whose hearts and bodies aren’t given up without a fight.
Ava lives in southern Virginia, where she enjoys hoarding books, hiking, running, spoiling her cats, and spending time with her Eurasian eagle owl, Lucius.
Social Media links for Ava Sinclair
Web site: www.avasinclairauthor.com
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