“On your knees, angel.”
She sinks down without hesitation, looking up at me through her lashes—and the sight nearly undoes me before she’s even touched me. A year ago she couldn’t hold my gaze. Now she’s kneeling at my feet like she was made for it.
I strip without ceremony—shirt over my head, jeans and the rest gone—until I’m bare in front of her, already hard. Her eyes follow every motion of my hands, her breath going shallow, lips parting. But she waits. Good girl.
“Can I?” she asks softly, eyes already on me.
“You can.” My voice comes out rough.
She wraps a small hand around me and tugs, slowly. The breath hisses out of me. She leans in and swirls her tongue over the tip before closing her lips around it, sucking gently. A groan tears loose. Her eyes lift to mine, dark and wanting, and I feel that pull all the way down my spine.
She takes more of me, sucking harder, growing bolder by the second. “That’s it, baby,” I manage, threading a hand into her damp hair. “Take me deeper.”
She does, letting me slide in and out of her mouth, her own breathing ragged now, thighs pressed together like she’s aching just from this. I let her work me until I’m close—too close—then ease her off with a hand at her jaw. Her lips come free with a soft, obscene sound.
“Not yet,” I tell her. “I’m not finished with you.”
I help her up and guide her onto the bed. “Knees up and spread out,” I order.
She lets the towel drop, pooling at her feet. Then, she climbs the bed and lies on it as instructed. No hesitation.
“Good,” I murmur.
I take one wrist, then the other, binding them together and anchoring them to the headboard, stretched above her head. Then her knees—wide, one tethered to each post—until she’s open and bare and completely at my mercy. Her breathing turns ragged, her pupils blown wide.
I pick up the blindfold and settle the silk over her eyes, tying it behind her head. Her breath hitches, and a soft moan slips past her lips. I let my gaze travel over her body, the frantic rise and fall of her chest, the slick sheen between her thighs.
My cock hardens. I give in to one indulgence. I slide my hands up to her breasts, kneading, rolling the tight buds between my fingers. Her soft breathy moan sinks into my body, waking my nerve endings.
I glide my fingers closer to her pussy. I stroke her clit. She jerks, a thin cry breaking from her.
“So fucking responsive,” I murmur.
Then I step back. Because I love this part—watching her strain toward a touch that isn’t coming. She should be used to it by now. But she’s so sensitive and impatient, and it works in my favor every time.
She’s grown bolder this past year. She demands what she wants when she’s had enough. It turns me on to watch her unravel into a pleading mess.
Tonight, I’m not sure I can hold out for long. I’m too excited. The ring on her finger has me wound tighter than I’ve ever been.
Cammi starts to whimper softly. With no place to move, she grinds her body into the bed. I can tell her frustration the moment she realizes she can’t even squeeze her thighs together to ease her ache.
“Please, Daddy. I n-need your mouth on my pussy,” she says in a trembling voice.
I pick up the velvet paddle, snapping it through the air. Need unfurls in my gut as fresh wetness slicks her pussy.Fuck
I squeeze my cock hard to remain in control. I walk to the side of the bed and bring the velvet down soft against her inner thigh. She jerks and moans.
“Such a needy little thing, aren’t you?”
I bring it down again, light, across the curve of her breast. “Yes, Daddy,” she gasps.
The skin blooms a soft pink that sends my blood rushing south.
“So greedy.” I tap the paddle close to her pussy.
She moans loudly. “P-please.”
“Not yet,” I tease, my voice guttural with need.
