by Measha Stone
“Yep.” She pulled the shower curtain to the side and peeked out, her hair stuck to her head and her wide eyes meeting his. The girl looked downright angelic.
“Let me see.” He put the bag down on the counter and grabbed the curtain from her then pulled it open even farther. “Yep, all wet.” He smiled at her. “Are you wet everywhere?” he asked, giving a pointed look at her sex.
She nibbled on her lip and nodded.
“Hair is all washed, good. Turn off the water for me,” he directed and waited until she complied before giving her further instructions. “Now put one foot up on the edge of the tub.”
Giving him a confused look, she went about obeying him, placing her hands on his arm to keep her balance.
“Now, let’s see if you washed everywhere.” He reached lower and slid his fingers through her folds, delighting in the little gasp she gave. “Good girl, you’re all wet.” He continued to stroke her, taking care to brush only across her clit and not put any real pressure on the swollen nub. She arched her hips, trying to get the little bit of release, but he wasn’t ready to give it to her yet. They had a whole afternoon of fun to get through before she dove into that oblivion.
“No, don’t.” She slapped at his arm when he pulled away. One look from him, though and she bowed her head with something that looked like contrition though he doubted she felt it truly.
“You’ll get to come when I say, and not a second before.” He eased her foot off the edge of the tub and reached for a towel. “Let’s get you dried off so you can try on your present.”
“You got me clothes?” The way she scrunched her nose up when she asked the question made him laugh. Such honest reactions.
“One piece in particular. Come one.” He wrapped the towel around her and tucked in the end then took a smaller towel and squeezed out her hair, leaving it mostly wet.
He led her to her bedroom, after snagging the bag on the way.
“Did you enjoy your run?” he asked as he pointed to the bed for her to sit.
“Yes.” She watched the bag as he dangled it from his fingers.
“If I look in your panty drawer, will I find panties, or will I find thongs?” He placed the bag down on the dresser and traced the knob of the drawer with his finger.
“Mostly thongs.”
“I would prefer it if you don’t wear thongs. I like my girl to wear something a little more covering.”
“You don’t like thongs? Every man loves thongs.”
He laughed. “I do, and sometimes I’ll want you to put one on, but unless I do, you aren’t to wear them.”
Her eyebrows furrowed.
“What did you have in mind?” She eyed the bag.
He handed it to her, letting her explore the contents on her own. He’d had to order them, otherwise she would have been wearing them from the first moment she agreed to be his and only his.
Leaning against the dresser, he watched her take out the garments wrapped in tissue paper and unwrap them in her lap. Panties, white cotton panties.
She unfolded the first one in the pile and looked at the words written on the back, that would display across her beautiful ass.
“Good girl.” She looked up at him. He lifted his chin, indicating he wanted her to look at the second bundle in the bag.
Putting the one she was holding in her lap, she unwrapped the next few pairs and held up the pair. A soft pink blush crept up her neck and covered her face. “Bad girl?”
“Let’s hope you won’t be wearing these very often.” He moved to sit beside her on the bed and took the pair from her lap. “You’ll only wear these when I tell you to, and understand that if you’re wearing one of these, a spanking is coming in short order.” Folding the pair, he took from her hand he placed it on the pile neatly.
“And these?” She gestured to the good-girl pile.
“These you’ll wear whenever you want—or when I ask specifically.”
“You’re taking away my thongs?” Her eyes narrowed, and her lips pinched together. If she was trying to look tough, she failed miserably. The girl couldn’t look anything but adorable when she fought against the pout trying to escape.
“No, I’m not taking them away.” He brushed a strand of wet hair from her forehead. “But I like the idea of you wearing your good-girl panties for me.”
Her throat worked as she swallowed a response. Nothing too snarky, he was sure of that, because her eyes had already begun to dilate. She wanted to wear the panties, too. His mind worked, turning over images of what she would look like standing in the corner, her arms folded behind her and the round, perfect globes of her ass covered in white cotton displaying the words bad girl. Fuck. How would he actually discipline her in that situation if merely the mental image made his cock harder than steel?
“Okay, Daddy.”
His eyes nearly crossed at the softly spoken words.
“Such a good girl for me today.” He smiled and grabbed both piles of panties and took them to the dresser. “Let’s see how good you can be for Daddy. Take off your towel.”
She stood up, hands clenching the top of the lavender towel. Her wide, beautiful eyes latched onto his gaze as she slowly, tormentingly so, untucked the towel and peeled it away from her body. As the towel fell away, he took in the deliciousness that stood before him. Perfectly balanced curves, heavy breasts, taut stomach, and thick, rich thighs.
“Now, lie on the bed and spread your legs for me. I want to see your pussy on display.” He didn’t move, and he wouldn’t. Not until he was ready to devour her. Any sooner than that, and he’d lose his resolve to go slowly, to enjoy every second of her submission and obedience.
Those acts alone stroked him as hard and with as much passion as her hands could, and if he didn’t take the time to enjoy it, to soak in the energy she gave him, the afternoon would turn into a mindless fuck.
And he didn’t want a mindless fuck. No with her. Not with his Carissa-girl.
Carissa moved back onto the bed, keeping her eyes far away from his while she got into position. His stare too intense, too powerful for her to hold for very long. He’d bought her panties. Not just underwear he could have picked up at any store off the street, but special panties.
“Spread your legs,” he repeated when she still hadn’t done so. She dropped her hands to her sides and peeled her knees apart, letting them fall to the mattress.
Exposed. She was completely exposed to him. Chancing a glance, she found his eyes no longer locked on her face but on her sex. And he looked hungry, like a man who hadn’t been fed in years.
“Do you touch yourself, Carissa? When I’m not here to do it for you, to give you that release?” The question came low in his gravelly voice, but she didn’t sense any irritation or disappointment.
“Be honest, always be honest with me, Carissa-girl.” He spoke as though he could read her worry, her very thoughts.
“Yes, Daddy.” She looked down the length of her body to where he stood, at the foot of the bed. Between her legs, but not touching, not even close to touching her. And she wanted his touch, his fire, his heat.
“Show me.” The command came darker, like his throat was too dry to talk. His eyes never left her sex.
Her stomach fluttered at the idea. She’d never done that before, never allowed a man to see her touching herself.
She reached between her thighs, lightly touching her lower lips, avoiding any contact with her clit. If she touched herself there, she’d be too greedy with need to follow his words.
He moved from his spot to the side of the bed, sitting down beside her but still watching her fingers work over her sex.
“That’s not how you fuck yourself, little girl. Now, show Daddy the real way.” He reached out and trailed a thick finger down her collarbone, through the valley of her breasts, and farther down still, over her belly. When he reached her thigh, he dragged his finger to her knee and rested his palm there, keeping her legs open while he watched her fingers dance over her pussy.
She slid two fingers between her folds, finding herself soaked for him. He hadn’t even touched her, but her body knew to be ready, to take him, to give to him, to obey him.
Biting down on her lower lip, she managed to keep her groan in when her fingers reached her clit. No longer able to deny herself, she circled the engorged nub and pressed harder down on it while lifting her hips.
“That’s my girl. Be a good girl for me.” His fingers tightened around her knee, and she shoved two fingers into her passage, rubbing her clit with the heel of her palm.
Her heated passage clenched around her fingers. Her eyes closed, and she turned her face away from him, thrusting her fingers into her body while pushing her hips upward. She gasped as her passage became wetter, thicker with her own arousal, her own need.
“Oh, Daddy. Please.” She opened her eyes and found his. He was watching her, and she grabbed his arm with her free hand.
“What is it? What do you need from Daddy?” He lowered his face, coming closer, his nose almost touching hers. But his lips were too far away. She wanted to taste him, to kiss him while she stroked herself because she couldn’t stop. Not now, not with his warm hand moving from her knee to her thigh, holding her leg against his. Not with his hot breath washing over her face while she panted. There would be no stopping.
“I need to come. Oh, God I need to come!”
Keeping one hand on her thigh, his other came to her breast and played with her nipple. Gently at first, but then harder, pinching and twisting.
“I haven’t said you could. And good little girls listen to their daddies.”
“Please!” She slowed her thrusts, gentled the pressure on her clit because anything else would have shoved her headfirst into the very explosion he seemed set on denying her.
“Almost. But not yet.” He smiled. An evil, dry smile that made her both angry and excited at the same time. He wouldn’t leave her dangling for long. He took too much pleasure in her finding her release, but she wasn’t sure how long she could be good for him.
And she wanted to be good for him.
He moved his hand from her thigh, trailed it down to her sex, and covered her hand with his own. “Keep fucking yourself.” He ordered and pinched her nipple harder.
She thrust her hips upward, wanting his touch, wanting him.
“You’re being such a good girl for me today.” He lowered himself, moving to where he could wrap his lips around her nipple, replacing his fingers.
The new sensation, the wet, soft texture of his tongue running over her now-tender nipple nearly undid her.
“Oh!” She arched again, biting hard on her lip to try and contain the orgasm that threatened to take away her good-girl status at any second.
“Please, I have to,” she begged. She wasn’t above it, not at that moment. Paradise hung so close to her, and it was only his word that kept her from diving into it.
The hand covering hers pressed down harder, putting more pressure on her clit. When she tried to slow her fingers, he put pressure there, too. “Fuck harder, faster. Come unraveled for me. Come for me, Carissa-girl.”
She moved her legs, spreading herself wider, and pushed in with more force.
“I want to hear you come,” he whispered against her nipple. “Come for me, Carissa-girl.”
His hand pressed harder, her fingers dove deeper, and with one more nip of his teeth around her nipple, she arched off the bed and cried out. She still held onto him with her left hand, digging her nails into skin as the immense waves of her orgasm spun her from reality. She could hear him, hear his words of encouragement, riding her through the orgasm, but none of it registered. The soft tone of his arousal and approval covered her, softening her landing as the pulsations around her fingers eased.
Air came harsh, and she gulped it in. Her fingers slid from her passage, but her hand stayed where it was. He continued holding her there and didn’t seem likely to move.
“You are so fucking beautiful,” he said, leaving her breast and kissing her lips. She moaned into the kiss. His lips pressed hard against hers, and as she opened to him, inviting him in, he pulled back and smiled down at her.
He gripped her wrist of the hand she’d just found her pleasure with and brought it to his mouth. Parting his lips, he took her two fingers inside and twirled his tongue around them, sucking the digits clean. She swallowed, enjoying the vision almost too much.
When he finished, he dropped her hand to her belly and moved off the bed. He made quick work of unbuckling his belt and undoing his pants. She watched, fascinated by the amount of control he possessed over his body. His cock looked ready to burst when he dropped his boxers, but he’d waited. He hadn’t taken any moves to find his own release.
He fished a condom from his wallet and tore open the package. Her throat dried as she watched his strong fingers roll the latex down his thick cock.
“Keep your thighs open,” he ordered and climbed between her legs. As if she’d close herself off from him after the explosion he’d just caused. It may have been her fingers doing the work, but it was him, all him who made her orgasm the mind-altering event it was.
He wrapped his hand around his thick shaft, positioning it at her entrance. She gripped her thighs with both hands, watching as he pumped his cock.
“Such a good girl for Daddy.” And although he’d already said that, had already told her how much it pleased him, the approval, the pride threaded in his tone made her smile, made her chest expand with pride.
He looked ready to thrust into her, but he could read her body better than she could. He eased into her passage, moving slowly and letting her stretch around him. She’d already come, already been shattered into a million pieces. Her clit still sensitive from her orgasm, her entrance still recovering from the explosion just moments before, but everything calmed beneath his touch.
He rocked over her in slow, deliberate thrusts. His hands splayed out on either side of her head, his face only a breath away. His eyes bore into hers, but she didn’t look away this time. She couldn’t. She didn’t want to. He was a man in possession of what was his, and she didn’t want to see anything other than that look of ownership, that look of pride in his eyes as he ground his pelvis into her. Not too much, not too little, the perfect amount of friction against her clit.
The pressure built again, he thrust harder, faster. His eyes never left hers. His guttural sounds of pleasure filled the space between them. Her own pants were lost in the air, mingling between the sound of the light creak of her mattress and his low groans.
“Come for me again, Carissa. I want to feel you come.” He dove deeper into her, pressing his body against her clit. She arched upward, taking him, wanting everything he could give her.
She didn’t think coming again was possible so soon after a hard orgasm had ripped through her. His words, his tone, the way he seemed to own her with just his stare brought her to the brink and, with one more hard thrust, she opened to him. Another mind-bending release taking her away and letting her see the tenderness with which he fucked her, the sweetness of his possession and the passion of his desire.
He moved his hand to grip her hip and pushed harder into her. His breaths coming faster, his groans more animalistic. As the waves subsided within her, he groaned and stilled, finding his own release and pumping his seed into her body.
He let out a long breath and rested his forehead against hers. His hot breath mingling with hers.
“I probably could have forgone the run today,” she whispered after several silent moments stretched out between them.
He laughed and slapped her hip. “Yeah, you probably could have.”
Slipping from her body, he moved to her side, pulling her to cuddle beside him. She could feel his seed spilling from her, knowing she should get up and clean up, but he wouldn’t let her go.
“I’ll take care of it,” he promised, again reading her thoughts. “I’ll take care of everything if you’ll only give over and let me.” A
kiss pressed against her forehead.
And in that moment, with his arms wrapped around her, his heart pounding beneath her ear on his chest, she could see doing it. Doing exactly what he asked, giving over completely, for more than just a set amount of time.
But what scared her, what made her mouth dry with fear, was that she not only could see it—she wanted it.
Chapter 9
“My father has invited us over to dinner on Sunday night,” Jamison said over an impromptu dinner of pizza and beer. His girl did not know how to keep a fridge stocked. He’d tried to rummage up something for them to eat, but only found several containers of leftover take out and some eggs.
“Your father?” She seemed to blanch a bit at the mention of his father. Given her thoughts on any longstanding relationship between them, he supposed he could understand, but meeting Baron Croft, wasn’t the same as meeting your lover’s father. It was business.
“He’s trying to convince me to join him in a new venture. It’s just a business dinner, really.” He took a pull of his beer. Her kitchen was a bit cramped. He tried to scoot his chair back a bit more to get comfortable and knocked into the pantry door.
“You don’t get along outside of business?” she asked, picking off the sausage from her piece of pizza. She’d asked for sausage pizza when he suggested it, and at first, he thought she’d changed her mind. But she picked off all the sausage and ate it last, after she’d eaten the slice.
“We don’t really talk other than business.” He shrugged, putting his beer back on the table. “Just his way.”
“And your mom? You haven’t mentioned her.” She popped a round bit of the spicy meat into her mouth.
His stomach tightened. It had been almost two decades since he’d seen his mother, but still the mention of her could make his body twist.
“I haven’t seen her in a long time. She and my father divorced when I was about seven.” Divorced is the legal term but abandoned is more accurate.
“Oh.” He watched her expression, looking for pity. Most woman who knew he’d grown up without a mother quickly saw that as a reason for his over protective nature, a reason to show him how much a woman could love a man. They wanted to heal a part of him that didn’t need healing, but not Carissa. That one little word had been her response, and there wasn’t anything lurking behind it. Like she understood, she got it, and didn’t see anything to feel sorry for.
