My control was thinning. I could feel my own release moving closer, dragged from me by the heat of her body and the sight of her surrender.
“Daddy,” she whispered.
“Yes, little one?”
“Please may I come?”
I pressed my forehead to hers and pushed my cock deep into her.
“Yes.”
I gave her harder strokes—it didn’t take many.
Her orgasm tore through her at the same moment mine did.
She cried out against my mouth. Daddy, Daddy, Daddy.
I came inside her with her name against my tongue. My body locked over hers, then shook.
For a few seconds, there was nothing but her breath and mine.
Then I released her.
Immediately.
I unfastened the cuff from the frame. Then the silk from both wrists.
Her hands came down slowly. I took them in mine and massaged each wrist, each palm, every finger.
“You did so well,” I said.
She looked exhausted. Soft. Satisfied.
“You too,” she murmured.
“I’m glad you approve.”
I kissed her.
Then I carried her to the bathroom, turned on the taps. Warm water. Not hot enough to make her dizzy. Lavender oil. A towel waiting within reach.
I lowered her into the tub.
She made a small sound as the water rose around her.
“Good?” I asked.
“Yes.”
I sat on the tile beside the tub and fed her slices of pear one at a time.
“This is ridiculous,” she said around the first bite.
“You need sugar.”
“I had an orgasm, not surgery.”
“You had two orgasms. Hydrate.”