by Cara Dee
We both know how the media functions. I may be painted as the cheating fiancé, but it will blow over quickly. Gemma’s name will be dragged through the mud, and she’ll be the homewrecker who stole her own mother’s partner. I won’t stand for it.
“I don’t care, Dean. I’ve been through worse.”
“I care.” Reaching over the table, I grab her juice for her. “I’d never in a million years want to hide you, but there is such a thing as minimizing the fallout. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
Perhaps there will be a public statement from our publicists in our future. I haven’t thought that far. Before we out ourselves, however, I’ll consider everything and take all the measures I can in order to keep her safe.
“We’ll deal with it when that time comes,” she says firmly. “I think we should move on to the next topic now.”
Judging by the mischief in her eyes, I have a feeling I know what it is.
I smirk. “What would that be?”
“Sex,” she giggles, looking so fucking cute. “Limits and stuff… Rules. Punishments.”
I shake my head, as amused as I am excited. “All right. Who should go first?”
“You,” she says quickly. “I want to know what you want…from me.”
Let’s get started, then.
I flip open the notepad and uncap the pen. “There isn’t a lot I don’t want from you, baby girl.” She can see that as a warning. After my months of reading about this, I know exactly where I want to start. “Now, I’ve read all about checklists, but you and I won’t go that route.” I create two columns on the empty sheet. “I want us to write down what we know right now—soft limits and hard—and then we will discover new things together.”
She nods in understanding, turning serious, for which I’m glad.
“Let’s start with the basics,” I suggest. “We know oral sex isn’t off the table.”
“Or regular sex.”
“Thank God.” I chuckle, and I look up from the notepad. “What about protection and safety? I’m clean, and—” I sigh, knowing it’s time to admit more truths. “I haven’t been with anyone in over eight months.”
She coughs and splutters.
I can’t say I’m surprised about her reaction.
“Damn.” She wipes her mouth with a napkin. “Here I thought single people had it bad.” Little does she know. “I’m clean, too. And I get the shot.”
Now would be a good time to tell her to get back to her seat. It’s only going to get more sexually frustrating from here on out. At least for me.
Might as well dive right back in with, “Anal sex.”
She blushes and ducks her head. “Not off the table,” she says quietly. “Um, honestly? I’ve wanted to try it before, but only with someone I’m serious with. There hasn’t been anyone I’ve trusted before you, so…”
I nod to myself, pleased and humbled beyond words. I love that she’s honest, not to mention careful. I’ve never had anal sex before either, and I’ve read enough to know that it’s nothing you rush into.
“Is that something you want?”
“Oh, I want.” I sneak in a kiss to her cheek. “In all seriousness, baby…don’t feel pressured, all right? If there’s anything you don’t want, let me know.”
She nods. “I will.”
“Good girl.”
Next, we talk about behavior. Or rather, I tell Gemma what I expect from her. I can tell that this topic excites her. When I tell her that foul language outside of sexual activities will result in punishment, her breathing picks up. When I tell her masturbation is forbidden without asking for permission—at all times—her chest flushes.
Smoking cigarettes is in the past. When she starts working or she’s out in public, she may dress however she likes and wear as much makeup as she wants, but I make it clear what pleases me. At home, I want her to dress for comfort. I have no true desire to see her in heels or a thong. It’s not my kryptonite.
“You want me to be your little girl,” she sings.
“That I do.” I touch her cheek.
The Daddy in me is aching for pastel colors on her. Simple tops, baby-doll dresses, soft camisoles, shorts that end right below her sexy bottom, and cute slippers on her feet. I want her comfy and relaxed.
Gemma shivers when I tell her this.
She also shivers when I tell her I’m going to bathe her every night.
How easy it would be to haul her over my shoulder now and bring her upstairs…
“Uh—” I squint, thinking what’s next. Rewards. We move on to rewards. I wish to spoil her rotten with rewards for good behavior. “What would you consider a reward?”
She hums and taps her chin. “Like…maybe movie nights? As many orgasms as I want? Cuddling? Ooh, bathing you.”
See, I would get a heartfelt laugh from that if it weren’t for the cuddling she mentioned. “Affection will never be a reward, little Gem.” I brush away some hair from her face. “Even if I’m upset or disappointed in you, you can always come to me for affection. It’s a given right. Okay?”
She smiles, appearing awed, and offers a small nod. “What about punishments?”
My mouth twitches. “Well, evidently it won’t be spanking.” She might like that too much.
Chapter 8
“Mmmph.” I stretch out across the bed, feeling little fingers playing along my spine, and yawn into my pillow. “Are you sure it’s wise to wake Daddy from his nap?”
Lifting my head, I glance at the clock, happy I got a few hours rest, at least. Hopefully, I’ll sleep better tonight now that my wildest dreams are coming true.
“Maybe?” Gemma crawls closer and ends up sitting on my ass, where she replaces her fingers with her mouth. Featherlight kisses trail up my spine, and my mouth curves into a sleepy smile. “You did tell me to come to you when I finished my homework.”
True. So that’s it, huh? She’s getting technical. Perhaps I have a little imp on my hands. That actually makes me happy. I might not enjoy attitude and too much sass, but I’ll always want her playful and mischievous. It’s in her nature. I wouldn’t stifle that.
“I wanna show you.” She makes it clear I’ve slept long enough and she’s impatient for me to rejoin the world of the living. “Or I can tell you?”
That sounds like a fine idea. “I’m all ears.” I’m kind of itching to find out what she put down on her list.
Earlier in the kitchen, once we were done with punishments and rewards, we moved on to kinks we eventually want to explore together. While equally curious about sexual degradation and light pain, my sadistic pleasures lean heavier toward tease and denial, like bathroom control and orgasm play. Gemma expressed curiosity toward regression, during which she can let go of all remaining traces of adulthood and revert to the younger little girl whose existence was once interrupted. I suspect that side of her would be predominantly nonsexual.
I want to nurture every part of her.
Whatever we explore, language is a big part, and I asked her to write down a list of words she finds sexy and exciting, as well as a list of terms she wants us to be more careful with, alternatively to avoid.
“You have sexy back muscles.” Gemma presses a kiss between my shoulder blades.
“Hmm, are you stalling?”
“Ugh, maybe? They’re all dirty words, and I blush too easily.”
I love that, though. Such a radiant reaction, one she can’t control. Luckily for her, I am rather tired, so I’ll be keeping my eyes closed for another moment or two. When I tell her that, she relaxes a little.
“Fiiine.” She gets a bit huffy. “I like it when you call me the sweet stuff, like little girl, baby, and sweetheart. I like little Gem a lot.”
I grin sleepily. “I like my little Gem, too.”
She giggles. “And, um…for dirty talk, I want it dirtier. I’ve enjoyed slut before, but I want more.” Seems to be the running theme, doesn’t it? Always more. “Can you try to call me, like, your little whore and fucktoy?”
I hum, my cock certainly approving, and I give the mattress a slow thrust to alleviate some tension. As if that ever worked.
“In bed…I think I want to be used.” She strokes my back sensually, causing me to shiver. “It makes me wet to think about you taking me roughly and I pretend I don’t want it.”
“Fuck.” Getting increasingly difficult not to do just that—now. We discussed consensual non-con briefly earlier; I’d be a liar if I said I wasn’t turned on by the thought. “Have you thought about safewords?”
“Some,” she replies. “I thought we could go with the system you mentioned—green, yellow, red?” I nod in response, and she goes on. “Anyway, for rougher play, I want rougher language.”
Time for me to butt in. In a swift motion, I turn onto my back, and Gemma yelps and nearly falls off of me. I smirk and catch her, steadying her over my cock.
“Sounds delicious, but make no mistake.” I sit up and grip her hips, my fingers going underneath her top. “No matter the situation and type of play, I’ll call you whatever’s within limits.” I glide my hands up her ribs until I can cup her tits. Her pupils dilate, and she squirms over my erection. “Even if I come up behind you in the kitchen with the intention of kissing you on the forehead, you can be my baby whore.”
She buries her head against my neck, arms around me. “I think I’ll like that, Daddy.”
“Mmm, me too.” I press a kiss to her shoulder, sleep the last thing on my mind at this point. In fact… “I think it’s time to break in my little toy right now.”
Gemma sucks in a breath and lets me remove her top. Then I’m rolling on top of her, and she squeals about butterflies.
I grin down at her. “I don’t see any butterflies.” Sitting back between her legs, I ease her shorts off.
“Here.” She clutches her stomach. “In my tummy.”
Let’s see if I can give her more butterflies, then. Pushing down my sweats, I stroke my cock absently while I drink in the sight of her naked body. “Spread your legs a bit more.” She obeys, and I take my time caressing her soft, smooth cunt. “Fucking beautiful,” I whisper. I let my thumb graze the slick lips, which elicits a whimper from her. “This is my pussy now.” With my index finger, I part her folds, starting at her clit. In one slow stroke, I slide my finger down to her entrance. But one isn’t enough, so I force in two.
“Fuck!” she cries out, almost arching off the bed.
“What do you want, sweet girl?” I finger her deeply, adding a third, too. “Tell Daddy what you want.”
“Oh…” She lets out a whine. “Your cock, Daddy…please.”
“You want this?” I lower myself over her and slip my cock along her wet slit. “Fuck.” I shudder and push the head of me against her clit. That makes her moan. She also tries to pull me down on her, but I don’t let her. Not yet. “Look at that, little girl. You’re soaking Daddy’s cock.”
“Ungh…”
I chuckle huskily and keep teasing her. In truth, I’m teasing myself, too, and I won’t be able to do it much longer. Especially not when I place the tip of my cock at her wet opening and add pressure.
“Christ.” One inch disappears into her, and I haul in a breath through clenched teeth. “You need to relax, baby girl.” Hell, she really does. She can’t be more than five-two, five-three at most, and she’s so delicate.
I dip low and kiss her nose. “Breathe out.”
A moment later, she finally relaxes fully, and I push my hips forward another inch or two.
“Oh God…” She locks her arms around my neck, then goes rigid when I claim her.
I bury myself all the way in and groan.
“Fuck,” I pant, pulling out slowly. “Out of this world.” Then, with a swift push, I’m inside her again. Out then in. Out. “Goddamn.” In. She clings to me, kisses me deeply, whimpers, moans, begs. And I start going faster, harder, deeper, anything to get more and more and more.
She lifts her hips when I slam in.
“Yes!” she cries out.
“That’s it, sweet girl. Let Daddy fuck you.”
“Oh God, oh God, oh God…”
I shudder violently and grind my soaked cock into her.
When it’s not enough anymore, I flip us over so she’s riding me. It gives me access to her tight body, and my hands touch what now belongs to me.
“Oh, Daddy,” she moans breathily, swiveling her hips to take me deeper.
She forces herself down on my cock. I kiss her hard and stroke my tongue against hers, needing more of her taste. It’s always her taste, I realize. It drives me to the brink of insanity. I rub her little clit, wanting her just as close to madness as she gets me.
I change hands after a few seconds. “Taste yourself.” I stick the pad of my thumb past her lips, all while I kiss her.
We both taste her.
Gathering more arousal from her, I brush two fingers over her mouth before kissing her again.
She tenses up and starts breathing choppily, like she wants to hold her breath altogether but can’t.
“You’re close, aren’t you?”
She nods quickly and throws her arms around me. “Yes, I…I…oh, fuck…Daddy…”
It’s not enough for me. Growing frustrated in a second, I push her off me, gruffly commanding her to get on all fours for me. Fuck yes, that’s it. The moment she sticks out her ass and begs for Daddy, I act on instinct. The hard thwack pierces through the sounds of our heavy breathing, and the red imprint from my hand blossoms over her bottom.
Gemma chokes on a gasp, and I take advantage. I drag my cock through her wetness, grip her hips, and ram forward. She chokes again, hands fisting the sheets to the point where her knuckles turn white.
“I think—” I growl through gritted teeth, the pleasure all-consuming, and yank her back on me. “I think you’ve unleashed the savage in me.” Pushing her down on my cock, I use my free hand to grab her in a light chokehold. “This is on you.”
There’s no sound from Gemma other than her shallow breathing. Lips parted, sweet little pussy milking me, and tremors setting off one another, she takes the treatment I give her.
When I return to stroking her clit in persistent movements, she tenses up again. Her muscles constrict around me, and her mouth opens wider in a silent scream.
“Come.”
Seeing her fall apart is my own undoing. My climax surges through me quickly, beginning at the base of my neck and sending tingles down my spine. My thighs throb, my balls tighten, and my cock releases in her. I feel everything—like my senses have become stronger and more sensitive. I register every bit of it. From the first stream of come rushing out of my cock to the last one that I sluggishly push into her with a lazy thrust of my hips.
We collapse in a pile of limbs, chests heaving and lungs burning.
“Oh my God,” she wheezes hoarsely. “We’re…so…doing that…again.”
I’m too out of breath to speak, but…yeah, that, give me a minute, and…fuck.
*
“Is it really that difficult, sweetheart?” I’m thoroughly amused by Gemma’s inability to make a simple choice. “Just pick one.”
She huffs and pouts at me, only to divert her attention to the selection of laptops again. In Ogden, they didn’t have enough to choose from, and here in Salt Lake City, there are evidently too many.
After a few days of not leaving the house, we need this day trip.
Gemma still needs a new laptop, and I need a break from all the fucking. My muscles are sore and protesting. Which seems to amuse her.
We can’t all be twenty-one.
“There are so many,” she mumbles, grabbing my pinkie.
Making sure we’re alone in the aisle, I press a kiss to her temple. We’re hardly A-list celebrities, though it pays to be careful. No matter how much I despise it. Keeping my hands off of her is turning out to be the challenge of the century.
“Have you at least narrowed it down?” I wonder.
She nods a
nd takes a step closer to me. “Those two.” She points at one black and one silver. “Composing and writing will be easier with the seventeen-inch screen…” I definitely agree. “But then when I travel, a smaller one is more convenient.”
Also true, and if she traveled a lot in the past, it’s nothing compared to what’s going to happen in the future. She has already eagerly accepted my invitation to join me for all my travels this coming spring—something I’m more than thrilled about—but it comes with a few downsides. For instance, we’ll practically be living out of our suitcases.
“So, take both,” I say as if it’s obvious, because it is. “You can save your work in a cloud so you can access it everywhere.”
She chews on her lip, eyes on the shelves, and evidently, she’s not the big spender her birth mother is, regardless of the size of her inheritance from her grandfather. “Isn’t that too much? I mean, I already need to buy a new phone—”
“You are not buying anything,” I tell her firmly. “I told you this yesterday, Gemma. I’m paying.”
I want to give her a new laptop, and as for her phone… Well, she dropped it in the snow yesterday when we used the hot tub I have behind the house. She’d played some music on it and was about to change songs when the phone slipped out of her hand.
“Da—Dean.” She flushes. I stifle a smile. “I have my own money.”
I’m very aware. “We’ve been over this,” I remind her pointedly. “You agreed to let me take care of it.” I’ve made it clear I wish to provide for her, to which she offered a counter proposal. If she’s genuinely uncomfortable with me paying, she has a special safeword for it. I respect that, one hundred percent. It’s a major adjustment.
“There isn’t much I won’t agree to when you have your head between my legs.”
“Good to know.” I tap her nose.
She scowls up at me. “I’m serious, Dean.”
I arch a brow at her.
It makes her huffy, and the scowl becomes a glare. “You’re being unreasonable!”
