Chapter 15

Riley

I woke with a start, bolting upright in the bed. The sheets fell from my body, pooling in my lap. For a moment, the remnants of a dream hung around me, clouding my thoughts, but then I blinked, and it was gone just like someone had erased an Etch-A-Sketch.

I reached back, pressing my fingers against the bed where Maxim should have been. With a start, I realized that he wasn't beside me and I immediately turned my head, seeing a beautiful red rose and a piece of paper with a note on his pillow.

I picked it up.

Riley-girl,

I had to leave for a meeting, but I wanted to tell you I will be thinking about you for the entire duration of it. When I return, I expect to find you waiting for me in our bed where I plan to make you mine for the rest of the night.

Until then,

Daddy

My stomach fluttered a little at his words, and a blush crept up onto my cheeks.

Did I really belong to him now?

My heart skipped a beat at the thought and a fresh wave of butterflies fluttered to life in my stomach. I reached for the flower, noticing that there wasn't a single thorn and I lifted it to my nose.

The scent was just as wonderful as I imagined it would be. The fresh floral aroma sent a wave of calm through me, and I realized something else.

For the first time in my life, I was happy.

Sore… Actually, scratch that, very sore.

But also very happy.

A tiny smile curved up at the corners of my mouth and my gaze turned back down to the letter.

I would have to wait for him to come back, but a part of me wanted to be in bed when he returned, just like he wanted. For some reason, I wanted to obey him just so I could receive more of his praise.

I needed him to call me his good girl again.

Just the thought of it made me shiver with desire as my nipples pebbled to sharp little points. I pressed my forearms over my breasts, covering myself as I came to terms with the fact that I was still fully naked beneath the covers.

With his seed still coating my thighs.

He'd made me call him Daddy.

And I'd liked it. A lot.

My core clenched with renewed arousal and the need for him swelled, but as much as I wanted to stay right here and wait for him, a tiny nagging voice in the back of my mind reminded me that I wasn't here to find a boyfriend, if that's what he was.

The truth is I didn't know what we were.

Insecurity bloomed in my chest, and I bit my lip as a knot formed in my belly.

I needed to talk to him, and this time, I needed answers.

I wasn't going to be able to move forward without them.

Quickly, I pulled the covers back, and as soon as the cool air hit my bare skin, goosebumps erupted along my arms. I rushed into the bathroom, fully intending to wash every bit of last night away so I could think clearly. As soon as the hot water hit my body, I relaxed.

Slowly, methodically, I showered, and when I finished, I brushed my hair and slipped into the closet, finding it so full of clothing that I was a little overwhelmed.

With a soft sigh, I decided to choose the most basic pair of white lace-edged cotton panties and a pair of yoga pants that hugged my curves, as well as a light pink t-shirt.

Once I was fully dressed, I felt more like myself. With a clear head, I headed downstairs and made my way to the kitchen. The house was so quiet, the only sounds the gentle ticking of the clocks scattered throughout the space.

For a long moment, I stood in the kitchen, not knowing what to do. Then, slowly, I walked over to the coffeepot. I set about brewing a cup of coffee and settled down with it on the comfy chair by the window in the breakfast nook.

As I sat there, I tried to wrap my head around the fact that I wasn't a virgin anymore and to make matters worse, the man that had taken it was holding me captive. I didn't know his intentions. Hell, I didn't know what I was to him or even who he was to me.

Maybe I was just another one of his conquests and I meant nothing to him. Maybe there wouldn't be anything between us other than last night, which was a terrifying enough thought that it sent a pang of fear through my heart.

I needed answers, so I decided to explore and find some of my own.

I wandered through the halls, my footsteps silent on the plush carpets, passing by portraits and expensive-looking vases that told stories of wealth and power but nothing of the man who lived here.

As I moved, I encountered several doors. Most opened to reveal ordinary rooms: a study filled with books, a guest room neatly kept, but there were also doors that were locked.

Visiting his office, I swiped a metal paperclip from his desk and knelt in front of one of the locked doors. After a few tense minutes, the lock clicked open, and I slowly pushed the door inward.

The room was dark, the only light filtering in through a small window. I reached for the switch and flicked it on. My breath caught as the light revealed rows upon rows of weapons. There were rifles and handguns, some sleek and modern, others bulkier and way more menacing. I didn't know their names or types; all I knew was they were incredibly dangerous.

Which meant Maxim was even more so.

What would happen if I angered him? Would he kill me too? Would he throw me aside like useless garbage the way everyone else in my life had?

I needed to find out.

I swallowed hard, backing out of the room, but then my eyes caught a glint of something small lying on a table beside the door.

It was a switchblade, its handle encrusted with some dark, ornate jewels. It was beautiful, in a deadly sort of way. On impulse, I snatched it up, the cool metal comforting against my palm.

I slipped the switchblade into my pocket and hurried out of the armory, locking the door behind me as best as I could with my rudimentary skills.

I went back to explore his office and then his bedroom, thinking I'd find some answers about him there.

As I cautiously moved around his room, my eyes scanned carefully, searching for any personal mementos that might offer a glimpse into his private life. The drawers of his nightstand were slightly ajar, and without thinking, I pulled one open further.

Inside, amidst various odds and ends, was a photograph in a simple frame. It showed Maxim, looking younger but unmistakably powerful, his arm around a woman in a wedding dress.

My heart fractured a little bit at the sight.

He was married?

They were both smiling. My heart sank, a mix of shock and a sharp stab of jealousy piercing through me. Who was she? His wife? A past he had never mentioned?

Anger ripped through me, tightening like a noose around my throat until it was hard to breathe.

Without a second thought, I slid the photograph out of the frame and into my pocket. I left the room, needing fresh air, suddenly feeling very claustrophobic even in his massive master suite.

My heart raced as I retraced my steps back to my room.

Once inside, I pulled the switchblade out and slid it under my pillow. I kept the photograph in my pocket.

For the rest of the afternoon, I stewed. I looked at his note and the photograph several times, trying to believe that I meant something to him while also knowing I could just be another notch in his belt. I tried to distract myself while watching a movie, but it didn't help.

My thoughts all revolved around Maxim anyway.

Finally, at about five o'clock, there was a knock on my door.

"Come in," I called out, switching off Netflix and glancing at the door as it opened.

It was Maxim.

"I've missed you, moya malyshka," he murmured, and I glared at him, unable to keep my frustration under wraps.

The image of him with another woman flashed before my eyes and it made me want to slap the cocky smile right off his face.

What would his wife even say?

"What does that even mean?" I grumbled.

"It means ‘my baby girl,' Riley," he answered, raising an eyebrow in my direction.

I opened my mouth to reply with something sassy, but immediately the smart retort died on my tongue. My heart swelled.

Maybe I did mean something to him.

Not that it matters, you idiot. He's married to someone else.

"I bet you say that to all the girls," I finally said, and he chuckled, the sound lightening my mood just the slightest bit.

"Only you, Riley-girl," he winked. "Now, I have a special dinner planned for the two of us. I want you to come downstairs at six o'clock and I want you to wear this," he explained, leaning into the doorway so he could hold up a garment bag.

He walked into the room and placed it down on the bed.

"But I'm comfortable," I protested, my defiance written over every last inch of my body.

I don't know why I was testing him. Maybe I wanted a reaction, but he paid my words no mind.

"Oh, and Riley?"

"What?" I replied, my attitude more than noticeable in my tone.

"You are to wear nothing beneath it," he dictated and for some reason, this pissed me off even more.

So I didn't answer.

Instead, I crossed my arms over my chest and looked away, tears prickling at the corners of my eyes. I blinked them away, not wanting him to see how much he was getting to me.

A few moments later, the sound of the door closing alerted me that he had left, and my anger flared. I spent the next hour trying to figure out my next move and when the clock struck six, I huffed, grabbed the switchblade, and headed downstairs without putting the dress on.

When I entered the dining room, his eyes immediately locked on me.

The man had changed into a different outfit, his hair wet from a recent shower. The dark gray slacks he wore hugged his hips perfectly and the sleeves of his white button-up were rolled up to his elbows. The material hugged his muscles in such a way that he looked like a Russian god carved straight out of marble.

Honestly, the sight of him took my breath away. I wanted to touch him, to reach out and pull him close and run my hands over his body, but I couldn't let him have that much control over me.

No.

Not when I knew the things that I knew.

"Riley-girl, you aren't wearing the dress Daddy picked out for you," he observed, a bit of a warning in his tone, and I did the best I could to blatantly ignore it all while my abs clenched with nerves at what would happen if I disobeyed him.

I glanced at his hands, remembering how his touch had felt on my skin and how much the very same palm had stung as it spanked my bare ass.

Keep it together, Riley!

My chin lifted and I met his gaze head-on.

There was no fear, only cold determination.

"No, Maxim, I'm not," I replied.

I wasn't playing this game anymore. I needed to find out more about him and I needed to know who I was to him.

But most important, I needed to know about his wife.

He was silent for a moment, his eyes studying me. I had to work very hard not to look away from him, but I didn't. I stayed strong. I stared him down, silently challenging him to do his worst.

The tension between us was palpable, but he didn't seem too concerned with the situation. He simply raised an eyebrow, and I watched as he slowly stood up to his full height.

I hated how intimidating he was like that, standing at least a foot taller than my short five foot three inches.

"Something is on your mind, little girl, and unless you tell me what it is, I can't make it better," he said softly, and I hated how his gentleness tugged at my heartstrings.

Instead of answering, I reached into my pocket, flicked the switchblade open, and pointed it straight at him.

"Who the fuck are you that you need an armory full of weapons? You talk about how dangerous the Orlovs are, but what you never mentioned is how much I need to fear you," I spat, and he cocked his head.

"That door was locked," he replied.

"It was. I unlocked it," I confirmed with a shrug.

"Impressive, little girl," he purred and that took me by surprise. I opened my mouth, but all that came out was an open snarl. He stayed silent after that, watching me closely as I took a daring step toward him.

I was terrified, but I was also determined to stand my ground. I slipped my free hand into my pocket and pulled out the picture.

I held it up straight in front of me.

"You're married and last night… last night shouldn't have happened," I scoffed, and he glanced down at the photograph and then back up at me.

His Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he sighed softly. He ran a hand through his hair.

When his eyes lifted to mine, they were soft, and a lump formed in my throat.

He looked hurt, and somehow, I felt the pain radiating off him in waves.

I took a step back as he took several steps toward me, staring at that picture.

"Riley-girl, my wife is dead," he said softly.

"Did you kill her?"

"Sometimes it feels like I did," he answered, his voice breaking a little and it raised my hackles on end.

"What does that mean?" I pressed, feeling more and more uneasy by the second.

He sighed heavily before looking straight into my eyes.

"My wife, Elena, died giving birth to my daughter," he finally answered, his expression distant. "It was a complicated pregnancy, filled with risks we were warned about. In the end, the choice to go through with it was hers, and she did it for us—for our family. But she didn't make it." His voice dropped to almost a whisper, and the room seemed to hold its breath with him.

He paused, looking away and collecting himself before continuing. "I've never forgiven myself. It feels like I pushed her to make that decision. Like I prioritized having a child over her safety. That's why it feels like I killed her." His gaze met mine again, raw and open, as he shared a piece of his past that clearly still haunted him.

I lowered the photo, the anger seeping out of me, replaced by a hollow feeling of empathy. "I-I didn't know. I'm sorry," I stammered, unsure of what to say.

"You weren't meant to know. That's my burden to bear, not yours." He took another step closer, his presence commanding yet still somehow vulnerable. "As for the armory, yes, I am a leader within my own bratva family. It's a role I inherited, one that comes with responsibilities—to protect not just my family but those under my care, including you, Riley."

"Why me? Why go through all this trouble for someone you barely know?" I asked, the picture still in my hand, now hanging limply by my side as he took several more steps toward me.

Maxim reached out and took it from me, gently running his fingers along the surface, the way someone would caress a lover before he placed it down on the table.

He was quiet for a moment before speaking.

"Because you belong to Daddy, moya malyshka, and it's become painfully obvious to me that you need to be reminded of that," he said, his voice so low that it was almost a whisper.

My stomach did the thing where it flip-flopped, and it was suddenly hard to breathe. My body started tingling. My nipples hardened and the heat between my thighs grew.

It was the most confusing sensation, and all I could do was watch him as he reached out and wrapped a single finger around the tip of the knife.

Then he plucked it right out of my hand.

And my heart leapt right up into my throat.

In the next moment, he reached out, gripped my wrist, and spun me around until my back was flush with his chest.

His body was warm and solid behind me. For a moment, I allowed myself to enjoy the feel of his hard muscles against me, but not for too long.

I began to fight.

With ease, he trapped my arms and pinned them behind my back. Then with one arm, he flipped open the switchblade and I froze.

Gently, he slid the tip beneath the collar of my shirt.

I held my breath.

Slowly, the tip slid up the fabric, the blade so sharp that the shirt parted like butter, leaving a line of exposed skin in its wake.

I couldn't breathe. My heart pounded against my ribcage like it was trying to force itself out. A quiet whimper escaped my throat.

With meticulous care, he sliced through my t-shirt, baring my flesh bit by bit until the remains of it fell away from me in tatters.

Then he slid the edge of the knife beneath the strap of my bra and lifted it gently. The fabric split as if he were cutting through paper. One cup pulled away from my breast and then he did the same on the other side.

In mere moments, the remnants of my bra joined my t-shirt on the floor.

"Maxim, please," I pleaded.

"Daddy," he corrected.

"Please, Daddy," I tried, and a low rumble of approval came from his throat.

"Such a good girl for Daddy," he mused, and a shiver of pleasure raced through me at his words. "Now stay still, Daddy is going to cut away the rest of these pretty clothes."

The blade was cool against my skin, and I gasped softly, feeling the edge of the knife begin to slice through the fabric of my yoga pants.

He made quick work of them, the thin cloth parting like the Red Sea under the gentle ministrations of his blade. When my leggings fell to the floor in strips, he growled in appreciation and I sucked in a breath, nervous that I was standing there in nothing more than my panties now.

The edge of the knife danced down the front of my underwear, and then he slipped the tip under the waistband, but he didn't cut them away just yet.

Instead, he teased me with the blade, dragging the edge back and forth across my skin. Fear and arousal mixed together as one and coursed through me like an unexpected storm.

My breathing was shaky as the blade's edge scraped against my skin, harsh and unforgiving and entirely too pleasurable for me to be sane.

I couldn't be enjoying this, right? That would be insanity.

But the way he controlled me with the slightest brush of the knife made me feel uninhibitedly wild.

He pressed the flat side of the blade against my pussy over top of my panties and a moan slipped from my lips.

My body shuddered, the threat of the switchblade pressing against my most private parts enough to make me weak. Then he lifted the knife and lightly slapped it back down on top of my clit.

I jumped, my entire body tightening.

Oh, my God, was he going to cut me? What was he doing? Why was I so fucking aroused?

"Daddy!" I cried out, unable to keep quiet, but then he did it again.

The flat surface spanked my panty-clad pussy several more times, making me jolt as fierce bolts of arousal spiked outward from my clit.

Then the tip of the blade finally pressed beneath my panties and those too sliced away with ease. I held my breath as he slowly cut them off of me.

The fabric stuck to my wet folds, and he had to peel it away from my pussy for my underwear to finally fall to the floor.

My breathing was labored and shallow and when his blade brushed against the top of my mound, I couldn't help the sigh of pleasure that slipped from my mouth.

My knees trembled and a small whimper left my lips. I felt so alive with fear, need, and pleasure, and I sucked in a shaky breath.

Then he pressed the flat of the blade against my bare clit and I couldn't stop the moan that tumbled out. Without a word of warning, he slapped it down against my clit again and this time, there was the slightest amount of sting that came with it.

My thighs tightened and I yelped, not from the pain, but from the intense fear and need coursing through me.

Carefully, he pulled the knife away from my pussy and brushed the edge against my belly, dragging it slowly upward until he reached the swell of my breasts.

Gently, he trailed the tip around the globe of my breast, then circled it around my nipple. The sharp blade barely scraped my skin and yet every nerve ending was alight with awareness.

When the knife finally came close to the peak, I was desperate. Then he stopped and slapped the bud with the flat side of the blade, and I stiffened.

Another slap against my nipple sent a jolt of painful pleasure coursing through me. I was so wet, the evidence coating my inner thighs.

My nipple burned and the pain of the sensation shot straight down to my clit, which pulsed with need. Then he did the same on the other side, going back and forth until my nipples were aching and throbbing and my desperation hit an all-time peak.

Then, with my arms still pinned behind my back, he walked me over to the table and bent me right over it. I squeaked in alarm, but the knife clattered to the table as he put it down, and then he grabbed my left bottom cheek, squeezing it hard.

I knew what was coming and I tensed.

He didn't disappoint.

His palm landed sharply on my bottom and I yelped, but before I could catch my breath, his other hand came down on my right cheek. The sting still took me by surprise, and I drew my lower lip in between my teeth, trying to stay quiet.

When he began peppering my ass with swats, I lost that battle, and a cry of pain slipped free. He didn't relent, his palm raining blow after blow down on my bottom.

Each slap was hard, but not punishingly so. It was almost like he was possessing me and taking over every fiber of my being.

"This pretty little ass reddens so very well. You're Daddy's good girl, aren't you?"

"Yes, Daddy," I blushed, his praise warming me instantly. I chewed the inside of my cheek and then he slapped my ass again, but this time he grabbed a handful and squeezed it tight. It hurt and I cried out, but I arched my back, somehow wanting more of his particular brand of pleasure and pain and everything that made him Daddy.

Then his fingers slipped down the valley of my ass and brushed against my pussy, which was slick and desperately wanting.

Without another word, he thrust a finger deep inside of me.

I screamed, my back arching as I came right then and there. The pleasure was sharp and hot, and it was unlike anything I had ever experienced before. With my ass still burning, my body pulsed with exquisite heat, a veritable wildfire surging through my veins, and I gasped, the sound coming out more like a moan than anything else.

My toes curled as the orgasm rolled through me, the waves so intense that I couldn't see straight. My vision swam and I felt lightheaded, and when the last aftershocks finally began to fade, I slumped forward, barely able to keep myself up.

"Who do you belong to, little girl?" he asked, slipping his fingers free and gliding them over my clit.

"You, Daddy," I whispered, my voice hoarse with pleasure.

"That's right. You're mine, Riley-girl. Now that I have you, I'm never going to let you go," he growled, and a frisson of desire burst through me as his fingers pressed a little bit harder on the sensitive little bundle of nerves between my thighs.

My core clenched.

He kissed the middle of my back and the sheer fire that burst through my body at the touch of his lips would have swept my feet right out from under me had I been standing.

With a gentleness I hadn't known him to be capable of, he trailed kisses down the length of my spine and then on top of the upper swells of my bottom cheeks. He lightly slapped each one and growled, the sound rumbling through the room like thunder, and I shivered hotly.

"So fucking beautiful. So fucking mine," he said darkly, and he slipped two fingers inside me this time, fluttering them against a spot deep inside of me that made me writhe in no less than an instant.

Fuck.

How was he so good at that?

My breath caught and he rubbed his thumb against my clit. My entire body trembled, and he pressed a bit harder.

"Do you have any idea how perfect you are?" he purred, his tone low and seductive. "How utterly beautiful?"

His praise wrapped itself around me like a blanket and I couldn't help but bask in his affection.

"You're going to come for Daddy, little girl," he murmured, and he increased the pace of his fingers, rubbing hard against the spot inside of me.

The thing was, I wanted to come, not just for me either. I wanted to come for him because he was the one who commanded it.

"Tell Daddy who you belong to," he ordered, and I was more than eager to comply.

"You, Daddy. I'm yours," I whispered.

"That's right, moya malyshka. Now do as you're told and come for me," he demanded.

The tension grew within me and then suddenly snapped, and I was falling, crashing down and drowning in the depths of ecstasy. My eyes rolled back in my head as my fingernails scraped at the table. My hips bucked, grinding against his hand as wave after wave of bliss washed over me.

I could barely hold on, the pleasure rolling through me in an endless loop.

"Fuck, such a good girl," Maxim crooned, his voice low and seductive. I breathed through my pleasure, simply feeling and surviving and when it was finally over, I slumped against the table and breathed a sigh of relief.

The next moment, the fingers teasing me disappeared, and I heard the distinct sound of a zipper coming undone.

"Now that we've established that you're mine, little girl, Daddy has something else he needs to tell you," he began, and I shivered at the intention in his voice.

"What's that?" I asked.

The blazing hot head of his cock brushed against my entrance, and I jerked, unintentionally arching my hips backwards and seeking out his thick length.

Maxim growled.

"I'm keeping you, Riley-girl. Not just as my little girl, but as my wife."

His confession was a shock to my system, but even so, there was something about the way he said it, the way he made it sound like a promise and a demand all at the same time, that made my blood boil and my core simmer with need yet again.

Around him, my body turned into a molten volcano.

I licked my lips, squirming a little as he slid the head of his cock between my folds, teasing and taunting me with pleasure and it took everything in me to keep still.

I wanted him to make love to me.

To fuck me.

Hard.

I wanted to know what it would be like to be taken by him and have him possess me, heart, body, and soul.

So I stayed silent, and Maxim slid the head of his cock through the slickness that pooled at the apex of my thighs.

Over and over again.

Teasing me.

Taunting me.

Driving me wild.

I whimpered, wanting more than anything for him to push his thick length inside of me.

"Your wife?" I gasped.

"Yes. You're going to be mine forever, sweet girl," he said gently, but there was still an air of command to his tone.

"Aren't you supposed to ask me for my hand in marriage and all that?" I asked and he chuckled, the sound dark.

He rubbed his cock through my folds, making me moan, and when the head of his dick pressed against the entrance to my body, I held my breath.

My hands gripped the edge of the table.

I needed him to fill me.

Now.

Instead, he rubbed his cock up and down my slit, slapping my clit with it a few times and sending little shocks of pain and pleasure shooting straight through my core.

"Daddy doesn't need to ask for your hand, because he knows you're going to walk down the aisle like a good girl for him."

"And if I don't?" I sassed.

I should have been angry at his heavy-handedness. I should have fought him, but nothing inside me could even bring myself to be even a little bit annoyed that he'd just decided to marry me and that was that.

"Then you'll be wearing nothing under your wedding dress except for my seed on your thighs to remind you who you belong to, little girl," he growled, and he chose that exact moment to slam his entire length deep inside of me.

My body stretched wide around him, the burning sting catching me off guard for several long moments. I had thought he was big before, but now that he was buried deep within me, his cock throbbed and pulsed against my walls, and I felt utterly full.

And then he started to move.

With one hand, he grabbed the back of my neck and forced me to lay my cheek down on the table, the other gripping my hip tightly as he set a punishing pace, his hips slamming against mine.

"Daddy," I moaned.

"You're taking me like such a good girl. Look at how perfect you look full of my cock," he praised, and the warmth in my body catapulted through me with fiery intensity.

He started fucking me just as hard as I wanted. The way he slammed into me felt like he was branding my insides and claiming every part of me and marking me as his.

It was intoxicating.

The hand on my hip released its grip, his fingers sliding down between my thighs. Then he started rubbing my clit with firm circles. In an instant, I gasped as radiant bliss furrowed up and down my limbs and in a matter of moments, I was already facing down the edge of an orgasm so devastating that I feared the moment it would hit.

I soon realized the inevitable.

I was going to come hard, right here in his kitchen, naked and bent over his table with my red ass high in the air. The image of that flashed through my mind and I shivered with pleasure.

"Your pussy is so very tight, Riley-girl," Maxim grunted, his pace never faltering as he slammed his length deep inside me over and over again. I shuddered with need, trying to keep a hold on myself and knowing that I was moments away from losing it altogether.

"Come for Daddy," he ordered.

It was all I could do not to give into the pleasure that coursed through me and so when his fingers circled my clit, it was the final straw.

I detonated.

The pleasure was explosive, bursting through me like a bomb going off. My eyes rolled back in my head, and I couldn't see. All I could do was feel, every single nerve ending tingling with bliss as the waves washed over me again and again and again.

I screamed. I moaned. I shattered right there, full of his cock. He fucked me hard enough to force the table to slide against the floor and then harder still.

Then he released the back of my neck and dragged his fingers down the length of my spine as he slowed my fucking down to a standstill. I tensed as he slid down the cleft of my ass and his hand spread my ass open. Then his thumb pressed against my asshole.

I couldn't breathe.

He couldn't mean to touch me there, could he?

When he pushed a little more firmly, I realized with fearful arousal that he did. The pad of his thumb pressed harder, and then he breached the entrance to my body and the sharp sting made me gasp.

It was a deep pain that bloomed out into my core. As my asshole stretched around his thick digit, I panicked and clenched down, which only made the pain worse and my panic greater.

"Relax, little girl. This is only one finger. One day, it's going to be Daddy's cock," he threatened, and a jolt of pleasure surged straight through me like a lightning bolt.

Gradually, the pain began to fade, only to be replaced by fervent desire and soon enough, my entire body was thrumming with it.

I needed more.

I needed to come one more time.

He started to push his thumb in deeper, forcing it past the first knuckle and then the second until he was all the way inside of my ass.

Then he started to fuck me again.

He pumped his thumb in and out of my bottom hole, his fingers digging into my skin and the pain made my pussy clench hard around his length, the added sensation making me feel wild and reckless.

Soon enough, it was too much.

I saw the edge of orgasm approaching, looming over me like a hurricane. I knew there was nothing I could do to stop it. I didn't even try.

Instead, I gave into the pleasure, allowing it to consume me as it surged through me like a firestorm and when the final wave crashed over me, I fell apart. Pleasure rained down on me, drenching me with its sweet warmth, and my mind went utterly blank.

I came so hard that my vision went dark. My core spasmed with exquisite heat, my limbs turning to jelly as my toes curled. It was the hardest I had ever come in my entire life, and I didn't think I would ever recover.

My body was spent and utterly ruined.

Then the sound of his groan, rough and primal, reached my ears, and his fingers dug into my hip.

He slammed into me, his thrusts wild and erratic and his cock twitched and pulsed inside me. Dimly, I realized he pulled out of me and then he groaned, the sound of his hand stroking his cock loud amidst the blood rushing through my ears.

Hot liquid splashed across my bare ass, and I couldn't help the small sigh of satisfaction that escaped my lips.

When he was finished, I was limp against the table, and when he finally slid his thumb free from my asshole, a whimper escaped me at the burning pinch, and I bit my lip.

He tucked his spent cock away and zipped up his slacks behind me.

"I'm so fucking proud of you. You came so hard for Daddy, didn't you?" he whispered as he gathered me in his arms. He sat down and placed me in his lap, lightly tracing his hand up and down my spine as he pressed his lips to the side of my head. I snuggled in closer, feeling warm and safe in his arms.

"Yes Daddy," I murmured, my cheeks flushing with shame even as I sat there in his arms, entirely naked, sore, and spent.

We were silent for a long while, neither one of us speaking, the sound of the clock on the wall ticking the only noise in the room.

He didn't move, his arm tightening around my waist, the feel of his fingers dancing up and down my spine soothing me, the press of his lips against the side of my head comforting me more than I thought possible.

Slowly, my heartbeat returned to a more normal pace. The sweat at the edges of my brow evaporated away and my ragged panting no longer echoed throughout the room. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, resting my forehead against his neck.

He was so warm, so solid and steady.

For a while longer, I just enjoyed the feeling of his arms around me and when I was ready, I pulled away just a little bit.

It was time for us to talk.