“Do you want punishment,” he asked evenly, “or do you want my attention?”
I frowned. “Of course I want your attention.”
“Have I not given you enough?”
He asked it so calmly that it made me feel childish for a second, which only annoyed me more.
“Yes,” I said, then immediately huffed out a frustrated breath. “No. I mean, yes, you have. Just not…”
“Not what?”
I looked away for half a second, then back at him. “Not the right kind.”
His gaze didn’t move. “Then tell me what you want.”
I should have said it clearly. I should have said it like an adult.
Instead I felt myself getting hot and flustered and pissed off all at once, because I knew exactly what I wanted and he knew exactly what I wanted and somehow he still had me sitting on his desk spelling it out like this was an exercise.
“Physical attention,” I snapped. “Like actual physical attention. Like fucking, for Christ’s sake.”
His mouth twitched, not quite a smile.
“That covers a lot.”
“Oh my God.” I threw my hands up. “What do you want me to do, get on my knees and say, Daddy, can I please suck your cock?”
The second the word left my mouth, the whole room changed.
It had come out wrapped in sarcasm, but the second it hit him, that part stopped mattering. I saw it move through him all at once, the way his nostrils flared as he pulled in a deep breath, the way his jaw tightened, the way he leaned back in the chair and dragged a hand over his face like he was trying to get a grip on himself before he did something reckless.
Then my eyes dropped, and there was no missing the outline of his cock straining against his jeans.
Oh.
Well, that answered that.
The weirdness of the word flew right out of my head. Daddy. Just one word, and I had gotten that kind of reaction out of him. I felt the power of it all at once, hot and sharp and way too satisfying.
No way in hell was I ever calling him anything else again.
A wicked little smile pulled at my mouth before I could stop it.
I rolled the chair back just enough to give myself room and slid off the desk to kneel in front of him.
His eyes snapped back to mine. “Get up.”
I stayed where I was.
“We should talk this through first,” he said, and now I could hear it, that first real crack in all his control.
I looked up at him, licked my lips once, and said it again, slower this time.
“Daddy, can I suck your cock? Haven't I been good enough for you.”
He let out a low sound that went through me like a live wire, then leaned forward and dragged a hand through my hair like he was debating with himself, and I just leaned into him and gave him my best pleading eyes.
Then he said, “Fine.”