by Maren Smith
“You remember how to be my good girl, don’t you, Sophie? I know you do.”
She panted as his fingers returned to her breasts, finding the other helpless nipple and lengthening it between his digits. The sensations he was creating with his fingers and his palm furled the hot ball of desire at her core.
She wanted him.
Just like she’d always wanted him.
Sophie had missed her Daddy so much.
“Don’t you, Sophie?” His tone lowered as he was forced to repeat the question, and right on cue, her chest began to rise and fall even faster.
“Yes,” she breathed the word, pushing her chest toward the fingers, tweaking and pulling her tightening buds.
“Yes, what?”
There was his prompt again, followed by a succession of short, sharp swats, peppering the underside of her bottom—the place where her arse met her thighs.
“Yes, Daddy.” She was so close now. So close to the brink of pleasure, perilously aware, Jared held it—literally—in the palm of his hands. “Yes, I remember.”
His hand slipped back between her sex as she gave the appropriate response, his hand rocking against her throbbing clit in some sort of degrading and delicious reward.
“There’s my good girl.” He sounded much more like himself now. There was the sardonic edge with just a touch of the arrogance she recalled. “Daddy has missed her so much.”
She swallowed at the intensity of the statement—it hit home. She had missed him. More than she cared to admit to anyone else. More than she’d let on to Karen when she’d said an old flame had asked her on a date.
More than she should.
But it was too late for her concerns about the rights and the wrongs of this arrangement. Sophie had wrestled with those demons for long enough.
Jared was the only man who had ever made her feel alive, and while she wasn’t prepared to give up on everything else she had ever known in return for his attention, she didn’t want to lose him, either.
Not again.
Not ever.
All those years, she had searched for a compromise—a way to indulge her darkest desires without screwing up her marriage, to be a naughty little girl and still be a powerful, independent woman, and to yield and still show her children there was strength in her separation from their father.
Sophie had failed in so many ways. She’d clambered from one crisis to the next after Jared, clinging to the vain hope she didn’t need him, but she’d been wrong. As his fingers slipped back between her wet folds, easing into her in the slow, leisurely pace Jared enjoyed, the thought resonated.
She’d been wrong because she did need this.
She needed his dominance and his twisted, fucked-up mind to be in control. And so long as she had his trust and respect, Sophie knew she’d do anything for him.
She’d lower herself further than she’d done before.
She’d beg, she’d crawl, and she’d revel in every fucking moment.
“Oh!”
Her knees widened at the heady sensation, her hips bucking so hard, she nearly slid from his lap, but the strong arm at her chest halted her journey.
“Stay just as you are,” he leaned forward and murmured into the words into her ear. “Naked, save for your fabulous hosiery, legs apart, and submissive. Just how Daddy likes you.” Jared eased his fingers in and out of her, his pace seeming to increase as the passion within her burgeoned. “There’s my good girl.”
Sophie fought to catch her breath, grasping at the pink pile of the carpet at her fingertips
“So wet and pliant. So ready for Daddy.”
And she was. Sophie was so ready. So ready to explode.
To be his.
“All you have to do is come for me.” His words vibrated past her, goading and taunting Sophie, daring her to respond.
To play his game again.
“Come for me now, little girl.”
Sophie was powerless to resist as the wall of desire landed over her. She squeezed her eyes closed, her toes bunching inside the stockings as her hips rocked helplessly.
“Oh God, Daddy.” She was breathless. Frantic. “Oh God.”
He laughed gently, continuing to fill her as her pussy spasmed around his fingers until, after time had protracted, she was finally able to take another breath and lift her head.
“Better?”
His fingers slid from her, and the hand at her chest encouraged Sophie back to her knees beside him.
She blinked up at him, shameless and needier than she could ever recall.
“Thank you, Daddy. That was incredible.”
Jared smiled, hooking her chin with the hand not covered in her juices. “You’re incredible,” he reminded. “And now, do you recall what else you need to do for Daddy?”
Sophie’s gaze flitted toward his wet fingers, and she caught her lip between her teeth.
Oh God, he wanted her to clean those fingers—the same digits that had just fucked her into a frenzy of ecstasy.
“Yes, Daddy.”
He stretched out the hand in front of her. “Go on then.” His eyebrow rose in that same, hot, and infuriating way as always. “Beg Daddy for permission to clean your cum from his hand.”
She clenched at the way he put that. Jared had the ability to make even the most innocuous things sound debauched, and she was woozy at the sound of her fate on his lips.
“Please, Daddy.” She met his gaze, trying to ignore the burning embarrassment in her cheeks.
This is what Sophie had wanted.
To submit to him.
To be degraded by him.
There was no way she was turning back.
“Please, may I clean your fingers?”
Jared leaned closer in her direction.
“What’s on my fingers, little girl?”
She smiled at him, inspired by her humiliating plight.
“My cum, Daddy.”
“Did you make a mess all over Daddy’s hand?” he asked wryly.
“Yes, Daddy.” Her core ached at the realization. “Yes, I did.”
He nodded. “Good girl. You may clean them for me but do a good job. Daddy will be checking.”
Sophie licked her lips eagerly as she inched toward him, topless and on her knees. Her lips parted as she approached his hand, and her eyes flickered closed as she took the first digit in her mouth, swallowing down the taste of her own arousal. Demeaning herself for him like this was better than she’d imagined it would be, and as she devoured the cum from the second finger, she was glad she had taken the opportunity.
It would have been so easy to turn her back—walk away, never surrender again—but it wasn’t the life Sophie wanted.
She would take the chance on Jared.
The chance to be Daddy’s little girl.
The End
For more by Felicity Brandon, please click here.
Gym Bunny
Brianna Hale
About the Author
There's nothing Brianna Hale likes more than a large, stern alpha male with a super-protective and caring streak, and when she's not writing about them she can usually be found with a book, a cocktail, planning her next trip to a beautiful location or attending the theatre. She believes that pink and empowerment aren't mutually exclusive, and everyday adventures are possible. Brianna lives in London.
Copyright © 2020 by Brianna Hale and Red Hot Romance, Inc.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including, but not limited to, photocopying or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, places, locales, and events are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, places, and events are purely coincidental.
Chapter One
Livia
He’s here again. The huge, muscled cutie wi
th the pumped-up shoulders and even bigger smile. He’s wearing a black tank top with the word TREY emblazoned on the front in bold white letters. His vivid green eyes glow with health and intoxicating sex-appeal as he hands out flyers to passers-by and answers their questions with a flirty smile. Every time I pass this spot, there are a dozen women staring at him, talking to him, or fawning over him.
At any other time, I might be fawning as well, but Trey McHandsome is standing out in front of Dom Fitness, the gym that’s recently opened up on my street. The premises are sleek and sophisticated, and healthy, happy people bounce in and out in brightly colored Lycra. The front window is emblazoned with one of their slogans: Just Say Yes (Sir).
My stomach twists with panic. Sir. That’s what Piers made me call him while he was telling me I’d never amount to anything. I can still hear his voice snarling in my ears.
You can’t even lose two pounds. You’re hopeless with no self-control. It’s disgusting. Say, I’m disgusting, sir.
I breathe in sharply, and glare at Dom Fitness, as if it being there is all Piers’ doing. I have to pass this way every day on my way to and from work. I never liked gyms, and one run by BDSM dominants sounds like a nightmare.
I’ll just have to ignore it, and I focus straight ahead walk faster. My stiletto heels click on the sidewalk, and I like the way they sound and make me feel. Bigger girls can enjoy wearing high heels, too. I’ve given myself permission to feel good about myself.
Muscly McHandsomeface steps right into my path and turns his one-hundred-watt smile right on me. He’s about thirty, just two or three years older than me. The expanse of his chest is just the right height for me to rest my cheek against. I bet he smells like really good aftershave and a deep, dark masculine scent that’s all his.
Goddammit, Livia. Stop imagining what he smells like. He’s a trap. A big, gorgeous trap.
“Hey,” says the six-foot-three Adonis with the thick, brown hair. “Have you got a moment to talk about your fitness goals?”
I stare right at his chest rather than risk looking at his gorgeous face. His broad, snuggle-me chest.
Goddammit.
The flyer he’s holding out to me reads Dom Fitness: Because we said so. It’s just the sort of overbearing nonsense I’d expect from a dom.
I glare up at Trey. “Not in a million years.”
His gorgeous smile drops from his face. “Sure. No problem.” He steps aside to let me pass.
I hesitate. I didn’t mean to be rude, but I’m used to doms who don’t listen. Doms who don’t talk no for an answer.
My hesitation is a mistake, because Trey smiles gently and says, “If you’re uncertain about what we do here, maybe I could answer any questions you have. I know we’re kind of kooky and kinky sounding, but we’re not.” He grins. “Okay, we are kinky, but it’s non-contact kink. We offer your first session for free if you’d like to try us out.”
“Why? Because I need to exercise so badly?” Go on. I dare you to call me fat. I’m four sizes bigger than my ‘normal’ weight sister, but I happen to think that I look good. I’ve shed blood, sweat and tears to claw my way back to a happy mindset. I’m not letting anyone screw with it, no matter how angular his jaw is.
Trey just watches me with those luminous green eyes. “My job is to make you feel good on the inside so that it shows on the outside.”
His easy smile is back, and despite my fuming anger, I feel my belly flip-flop. No wonder they stick Trey out here. The handsome face of abuse, exploitation and emotional manipulation.
“Dom Fitness is for everyone,” he continues. “If you’re interested, come talk to me, or ask for me on reception. My name’s Trey.”
“Yeah, I know,” I mutter, looking at his name emblazoned on his chest.
He drops his gaze to the tank top, and then up at me again, smiling disarmingly. “Oh, yeah. I forget I’m wearing this sometimes. Have a good weekend, okay?”
I move to my left just as he moves to his right. We both step back the other way at the same time, and I wonder if he’s blocking me on purpose or if I’m being paranoid. Finally, Trey holds up his hands in mock surrender and I move around him and walk as fast as I can to my front door.
I take off my denim jacket and throw my purse onto the table as soon as I get into my apartment. Maybe it’s pokey and there’s a lot of street noise from people outside, but it’s all mine. There are potted plants everywhere, my favorite books on the shelves and fresh white paint on the walls.
After removing my heels, I start making dinner right away. Tonight, it’s rigatoni carbonara, made the Italian way with egg yolk, pancetta and plenty of fresh parsley, and a large glass of white wine. I need carbs and a wine buzz, because tonight I’m going dancing.
By eight I’m putting the finishing touches to my makeup, adding some big loose curls to my blonde hair and slipping into my black sparkly dress, no Spanx required. I want to move feely tonight, and if my curves get in the way of anyone else’s fun, then tough titties.
I meet the girls in the bar down the street and embrace my best friend, Cora. “Happy birthday, gorgeous girl!”
Cora squeals and hugs me back. “It’s so good to see you out again! You look amazing. You’re glowing.”
Cora saw me at my worst, when I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, couldn’t function because of the way Piers destroyed me. I wave her off, embarrassed. She’s the one who deserves all the compliments tonight. It’s her birthday.
There are five of us pregaming and we have two cocktails each over the next hour. I’m not drunk, but I definitely feel a buzz as we walk down the street to the club. We queue for a little while, exchanging news and laughing our heads off.
Finally, we get inside. It’s just right, not too hot or packed, and the music is calling to me. I can’t keep still.
“There are so many hotties here tonight,” Cora says, gazing around the dancefloor with big eyes. “It’s as if a gym full of hot guys has walked in.”
She’s not wrong there. As I gaze around at all the muscles backs and biceps showing through dress shirts, I can’t help but think of Trey. I bet he’d look amazing dressed for a night out.
I shake that thought off quickly. I don’t need the double-barreled nightmare of a dom and a fitness freak. Someone who would change me because the way I live my life is wrong to him.
We all head toward the dancefloor, and the song changes to one of my favorites. I put my hands in the air and let out a whoop. The others join in and we’re all smiling at each other as we dance.
Everything’s perfect, and I’m going to dance all night.
Chapter Two
Trey
“Come on! Come and dance with us, Trey.” Amelia holds my hand and pleads with me over the pounding music.
I smile at her and shake my head. I don’t feel like dancing right now. I don’t know if I should have even come out. I’m still thinking about the blonde woman I encountered on the street earlier, the one who looked at me like I made her angry and scared at the same time. I wish I’d found out what that was about so I could have fixed it for her.
“You and Dom go. I’ll mind your drinks.”
The strawberry blonde, who’s also my boss’s girlfriend, pouts.
“Come on, peaches. Leave Trey alone.” Dom lifts her up in one arm carries her to the dance floor. I chuckle as I watch him deposit her among the dancers and put his arms around her. I’m smiling, but I’m still insanely jealous that Dom has a partner and I’ve been single so long I’ve forgotten what it sounds like to say good girl.
At least I have Dom Fitness. I get to make all the exercise plans and meals plans I want and see that my trainees follow them. They even call me sir. Not daddy, though. I’m waiting for one special girl who’ll call me daddy. Someone who actually needs me and will fill that hollow space in my chest that’s like a physical ache. I’ll know it’s been filled as soon as the right girl snuggles into me.
As I sip my beer, I gaze around at the happy, smili
ng faces and dancing bodies. It’s been a good week at Dom Fitness. I’ve got three new clients, but the one I really want keeps slipping through my fingers. I see the blonde woman walking by me day after day, head held high, confidently strutting. She’s incredible. Today I actually got to talk to her, but the way she reacted I don’t think I’ll ever get to know her better. I remember the way her eyes flickered with mistrust as she looked at the flyer in my hand. That hurts because we’re not doing anything dangerous or cruel at the gym.
If she were my client, I’d be able to show her she has nothing to fear from our methods. I won’t push it, though, because it’s her choice whether she wants a gym trainer who’s also a BDSM dom, just without the whips and rope.
I just wish I could get her out of my head.
There’s something alert and inquisitive about her, like a bunny. She looks cute like a bunny, too. Someone good to cuddle.
Damn, I’ve really got to stop thinking about her.
The crowd on the dancefloor parts, and as if I conjured her into the club with my mind, I see her. She’s dressed in a tight, black spangled dress with a daring plunging neckline. Her eyes are closed and she moves sinuously to the music, expressing the beat as if she’s making it herself.
A moment later she opens her eyes and looks at me, still dancing. She seems surprised to see me.
Then she smiles, and it arrows right into my heart.
I put my beer down and I’m impelled toward her by an unseen force. She watches my every step as if she’s as transfixed as I am. The next thing I know, I’m standing in front of her, and I draw her into my arms. It’s the magic of the music or the flashing lights or the intoxicating atmosphere, but it just feels right. She must think so, too, because she wraps her arms around my neck. We move together to the music, just gazing at each other.
