Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

A my

Back at my apartment, I kicked off my heels, tossed my bag onto the couch, and headed straight for the kitchen. A bottle of wine had been waiting on the counter for nearly a week now, and tonight, it had my name all over it.

I poured myself a generous glass, took a deep breath, and tried to shake off the memory of him, of the way he’d looked at me, so sure of himself, like he already knew how I’d react.

I took a sip of wine, letting it settle the adrenaline still thrumming in my veins. But instead of calming me down like I wanted it to, the warmth only reminded me of the way my skin had flushed under his touch. I closed my eyes, frustrated that I couldn’t just let it go.

It was just a kiss—an intense, over-the-top kiss from a man who clearly loved the idea of control. That should have been enough to make me laugh it off, or brush it off, or… well, something.

But I couldn’t deny how much I’d enjoyed it.

The thought made me take another gulp, trying to drown the embarrassing realization. My body had reacted, and not just in some casual, half-interested way. It had responded like I’d been waiting for someone like Aleksei to walk into my life and push every button I didn’t know I had.

And that was a problem.

I wasn’t the kind of woman who just… let things like this happen. I wasn’t someone who’d let my boss grip my hair in his fist, pull me in for a kiss, and then walk away as if he knew exactly how rattled I’d be.

How angry I’d be…

But the truth was that going to HR wasn’t an option. Hell, there wasn’t even an HR. Aleksei was the boss, and I’d walked into that job knowing that he owned the gallery, that I answered to him. And now, if I raised an issue, what would that mean for me? For my reputation? Word spread fast in this world and it would kill my career before it even got its start.

I couldn’t do any of that.

I set down my glass, pacing the room, replaying the moment over and over again, and trying to shake off the confusing mix of attraction and rage that twisted through me.

I couldn’t deny that I wanted him. I could still feel his hand in my hair, the low, commanding tone in his voice, the promise that if I ever gave in, it would be on his terms.

And yet… what if I did?

What if I went back tomorrow and let him keep that hold over me? Could I handle him? Would he try to push me further?

Would he make me… call him Daddy ?

My skin heated at the thought, part of me rebelling against the idea, the other part drawn in by the thrill of what he might do. There was something about his dominance that made me want to challenge him, but I didn’t know if I’d come out on top—or end up exactly where he wanted me.

I sighed, gripping the stem of the wineglass, trying to sort through the swirling thoughts in my head.

No. I had to stay strong.

Tomorrow, I’d go in. I’d hold my head high, get back to work, and pretend he hadn’t left me flustered, turned on, and second-guessing everything I thought I knew about myself. I’d pretend that the kiss never happened and that was that.

I took another long sip of wine, hoping it would dull the edge of everything I was feeling, but it only seemed to make the thoughts sharper, clearer. More arousing.

My mind kept drifting back to the gallery, to the way Aleksei had looked at me, like he knew exactly what he was doing, and exactly what kind of effect he was having on me.

“When you’re ready to beg for it…”

A shiver ran through me, the memory of his voice murmuring that line as his hand held me in place, firm yet oddly gentle, like he was just waiting to see what I’d do next. It had been overwhelming, all of it—his presence, his confidence, his quiet assurance that he was in control.

And the worst part? I had liked it.

I closed my eyes, the heat rising up my neck as I tried to shake off the memory, but it was relentless, curling through my thoughts. I imagined him pulling me close like that again, this time without me breaking free, his hold tightening as he looked down at me, that same infuriating glint of amusement in his eyes. I could practically feel his breath against my ear, his voice low and sure, telling me exactly what he was going to do, how he wasn’t going to let me walk away so easily next time.

The thought left me breathless, and I shifted, feeling the warmth pool through me, settling in my core. I wanted to hate the way I was reacting, the way I was replaying it over and over in my head like a video on repeat.

But the truth was, I’d never felt anything like it. No one had ever unsettled me so completely. No one had ever looked at me with that mix of challenge and certainty, like he’d already known how this was going to go, and he was just waiting for me to realize it too.

I poured another glass, my hand shaking just slightly, and took a deep drink. I could still feel his grip on my hair, the pressure of his fingers, his voice promising that he would make me beg.

And God help me, part of me wanted him to.

Part of me wanted to see just how far he’d go, to feel that strength, that control. What would it be like to give in, to let myself feel his power without fighting it? To let him handle me with that same surety, to let him pull me close and keep me there?

For Daddy to give me what I truly needed.

The thought made my cheeks flush, and I pressed my hand against my mouth, trying to force my mind to calm down. But it was impossible.

My core twisted tight with need and nothing I could do or think would make it stop.

Fuck.

I closed my eyes, breathing hard, knowing there was no use in pretending. I couldn’t deny it anymore, not after that kiss, not after how turned on he had made me.

I wanted Aleksei Morozov.

And not just as a boss, or an employer, or a colleague.

I wanted him, wanted to know what it would feel like to surrender to him, to let him push me until I broke.

No. That wasn’t me, right?

I shouldn’t let a man get the best of me.

I’d worked too hard to be taken seriously in my field, spent too many late nights and early mornings proving I could hold my own in an industry full of arrogant egos and charmers just like him. I knew the type—smooth, confident, always expecting women to fall in line with a well-placed smile and a few practiced words. I’d seen it before, and I’d learned how to keep my distance, how to laugh it off without getting pulled in. Men like him didn’t rattle me.

And yet… there was something about him, some unsettling quality I couldn’t shake. Maybe it was the way he looked at me, like he already knew exactly who I was, what I wanted—even when I didn’t want to admit it. It was maddening.

And too fucking arousing.

I leaned back, letting the thoughts wash over me, trying not to give in, but it was too late. The images, the memory of him holding me, the feel of his fingers against my skin, his voice murmuring those words.

Daddy .

Fuck me.

I let out a low groan, squeezing my thighs together. What would it feel like if I just given in? If I let myself break, to surrender, to feel his power, his control?

To call him Daddy…

Why couldn’t I get my mind off that single word? Why did it have such an effect on me? How could the thought of it have my heart racing, my skin tingling, and arousal curling tighter in my core?

My hand slid beneath the waistband of my skirt, seeking out the sensitive spot between my legs.

Imagining it was him.

I pictured him pulling me close, his lips at my ear, his hand sliding down, slipping beneath the fabric, his fingers teasing against the dampness of my panties, his voice dark and commanding.

He would push them aside, his fingers exploring, sliding into me, filling me, making me gasp, my head falling back against his shoulder as he whispered, “You’re so wet, Amy.”

My breath caught, his name a silent prayer on my lips as my fingers slid over my clit again, wishing it were his fingers instead of mine…

I moaned, his image clear in my mind, his hand gripping my hair, his lips grazing the curve of my neck, his fingers inside me, thrusting, making me moan, making me ache for him, my body arching as I cried out his name.

I pictured his voice, low and firm.

“Good girl.”

The words made me shudder, the pleasure coursing through me as his grip tightened in my hair, his fingers curling, making me gasp, making me writhe against his hand.

“That’s it, little one.”

I imagined him stripping off my clothes, layer by layer, revealing me to his gaze whether I submitted to him or not. I pictured him pushing me against the wall, his hands on my hips, lifting me up as if I weighed nothing at all, pinning me there, his body hard against mine, his cock sliding into me, making me cry out and gasp his name.

Daddy .

No.

I shouldn’t be doing this. I shouldn’t be touching myself while thinking about him.

I should be filing a complaint. I should be thinking about getting a lawyer, looking for another job, doing something, anything but this.

I shouldn’t be doing this.

But I couldn’t bring myself to stop.

I closed my eyes and lost myself in the fantasy as my fingers played over my clit.

His hands holding me, his cock filling me, his voice growling in my ear, “Come for Daddy, baby girl.”

And that was enough to make my orgasm crash over me whether I wanted it to or not.

I shuddered, gasping, my body shaking as the waves of pleasure tumbled through me, leaving me breathless, exhausted, and more aroused than I’d been in a long time.

But I didn’t pull my hand away. I didn’t stop. I couldn’t stop. I didn’t understand it.

I just let my fantasy go further.

I imagined him bending me over his desk, pulling up my skirt and punishing me for slapping him across the face.

I could almost hear his voice, low and firm.

“That was awfully naughty of you, wasn’t it, baby girl?”

And then his hand would come down on the left side of my ass, hard and fast.

Because that’s what I imagined him doing, because that’s what a daddy would do, right?

He would spank me when I was naughty and even though I shouldn’t, I liked the thought of it.

Bent over his desk.

Over his knee.

Skirt up.

Panties down…

He’d smack me once, twice, three times, sending shockwaves through my body, making me cry out, the pain and pleasure blending together into one intoxicating sensation. Then he would smack the right side just as many times and I would gasp at the sting as it raced straight to my clit.

The pleasure would be overwhelming, and I wouldn’t be able to help but beg for more.

“Please, Daddy, please, please, please, harder!”

And he’d oblige me, landing blow after blow on both sides, sending me closer and closer to the edge. Finally, his hand would reach between my legs, finding my soaked pussy and slipping two fingers inside me, curling them just right, making me gasp and moan, “Oh, God, Daddy, yes!”

“You think you’re in charge, don’t you, baby girl?” he would growl.

His fingers thrust harder, faster, making me moan and pant.

“I am in charge,” I gasped out loud, the words escaping before I could think better of them.

He couldn’t hear them. He’d never know.

His eyes would glint, a wicked smile playing on his lips.

“Not anymore.”

And then he would start really spanking me, harder and faster, making me cry out as the pleasure built, each slap pushing me closer to the edge.

“Please, Daddy,” I begged, not caring how desperate I sounded. “Please let me come.”

He’d pause, his hand resting on my ass, a satisfied smirk on his face.

“Not until you say it.”

“Say what?”

“What you really want, what you’ve been aching to say this entire time.”

My cheeks heated, but I couldn’t deny it.

“Daddy,” I breathed, “please fuck me.”

He’d chuckle, a dark, delicious sound.

“Now was that so hard, baby girl?”

Before I could answer, his hand would slide in between my legs, his fingers finding my clit, making me moan with pleasure.

“That’s it, little one,” he’d murmur, his voice thick with lust, “come hard for Daddy.”

I gasped, the orgasm crashing over me again, taking me higher than I’d ever been before. My body trembled, and my mind spun as the waves of pleasure washed over me. I panted, my breathing turning ragged as my hips moved, rolling, and rocking in tune with my very own fingers.

I imagined him forcing me to come again, not caring that my clit was sensitive, not caring that my body was already thrumming with pleasure and that my voice was quickly growing hoarse.

I was gasping, my breathing heavy, my pulse racing, but I couldn’t stop. I was caught in a wave of pleasure, a riptide of desire that wouldn’t let me go.

And then he’d whisper in my ear, his voice rough and possessive, “Come for Daddy one more time, baby.”

Red-hot bliss surged through me and then I was coming again, hard and fast and it left my body shaking and trembling as one wave of pleasure after the next coursed through me. Stars danced behind my eyelids as my eyes rolled back in my head.

“Oh, fuck, Daddy,” I moaned, not caring how loud I was or who could hear me scream as I fantasized about my boss taking me in hand for the first time in my life.

I came until my body was limp and boneless and my legs were trembling.

Finally, I ripped my hand away from my clit, ashamed of what I had done. Of how I’d let him into my head and how I’d lost myself while imagining all the dark and dirty things he would do to me.

It was wrong. He was my boss. I couldn’t let myself think like that, not ever again.

But I was still aroused, still flushed, my body tingling, my heart racing.

I told myself I would just pretend like this never happened, that I’d never kissed my boss, that I’d never pressed my hands between my legs and fantasized about him fucking me, of him touching me, of him spanking me.

Of me calling him Daddy.

None of it.

Tomorrow would be a whole new day.