I had thought I would like this part part.
I had really thought I would.
He kept teasing me, two fingers sliding up and down my slick slit, occasionally brushing my swollen clit just enough to make my thighs tremble. “Maybe I should leave you here like this,” he mused, voice silky and dangerous. “Ass bright red, cunt dripping down your thighs, door wide open for anyone to walk in and see what a pathetic, needy little slut you are.”
And I hated how much that twisted something ugly inside my chest.
On paper it had sounded filthy and hot and easy to get into. But hearing it out loud while I was actually here, half bound and wet and open for him, it didn’t land the way I expected. Instead of making me feel wanted, it made me feel cheap.
And I hated that.
“No.”
The word flew out of me so fast I barely even realized I’d said it.
The room went still.
I pressed my lips together immediately, embarrassed all over again, because of course he was not actually going to do that. We had talked through this. It was part of the scene. I knew that. I had been the one to include this.
But knowing it did not stop the panic that had hit me the second he said it.
His hand gentled.
“Tell me what you’re thinking.”
I hesitated, then let out a shaky breath. “I don’t want anyone else seeing me like this.”
He stayed quiet.
I swallowed and forced the rest out. “I only want Daddy doing these things to me.”
That changed everything.
A second later he moved into my line of sight, one hand sliding under my jaw to turn my face toward him before he kissed me. It was not a soft little reassuring kiss either. It was deep and claiming and sure enough to make my whole body loosen with relief.
When he pulled back, his thumb stroked once over my cheek.
“That’s all talk, baby girl,” he said. “No one gets to see you like this but me. You’re mine.”
Mine.
That was what I wanted.
Not humiliation. Not being talked down to until I felt cheap and exposed in the worst way. What I wanted was this. Him correcting me because he knew I could do better, because he saw more in me than me just being some messy little thing to use up and toss aside. I wanted him taking control of me in a way that felt possessive instead of degrading, like every touch and every word was about pulling me closer to him.
And more than anything, I wanted this exact feeling pressing in on me right now, the certainty that I could trust him enough to try things like this and still stop or change them in the middle if I needed to, because he would listen.
“Then fuck me,” I blurted, the words spilling out before I could stop them.
He laughed, low and rough, and the sound went straight through me.
“What a dirty fucking mouth you have, baby girl.”
Before I could answer, his hand cracked hard across my other cheek, the sharp smack making me gasp and arch. Thenhe moved down behind me, spreading my thighs wider with his hands.
The first slow, hot swipe of his tongue along my dripping slit ripped a broken “Oh, fuck” from my throat. My fingers twisted hard in the cuffs, the leather biting into my wrists as pleasure jolted through me.
He made a pleased sound against me and went right back in. His tongue was relentless—precise, experienced, devastating. He licked broad and slow from my clit all the way up to my tight little hole. Licking. Sucking at my clit. Shifting pressure until I was squirming against the wedge pillow and trying not to lose my mind.