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A desperate sounding yelp escapes her lips right when I know she’s there. “That’s my girl,” I murmur against her ear. “Come on Daddy’s hand.”
The cries of pleasure get louder as her thighs seize around my hand, her body contorted in pleasure. Her cunt pulses against my fingers as she comes, her fingers still gripping my arm so tight, I can feel the marks of her nails already.
I’ll gladly wear those scars with pride.
We lay like that for a while as I kiss her neck again, listening only to the sound of her rapid breathing. The shape of her body is curved against mine so perfectly I don’t want to move.
I wait for her to come down fully from the orgasm before reluctantly slipping my hand from between her legs and sliding her panties back in place. I mistake her for being asleep when she whispers, “What about you?”
Her hand slides across my hip as if she’s reaching for my cock, but I grab her wrist to stop her. Placing it back at her chest, I hug her close.
“Don’t worry about me, baby girl,” I reply comfortingly.
Not another word is spoken before I hear her breathing change, and I know she’s asleep. I lie awake for a while, reliving the entire thing, hearing the wordDaddyon her lips over and over until it lulls me off to sleep.
RULE #17: IF YOUR SUGAR DADDY WANTS TO SPOIL YOU, LET HIM
Daisy
This must be a dream. Or heaven. Or some strange twist of fate because it’s the second day I’m spending in Paris with Ronan Kade, and I still can’t believe this is happening.
Hell, I can’t believe last night happened—his hand between my legs. Those expert fingers that knew all the right things to do. Coming faster and harder than I ever have in my entire life.
Of course, I was practically edged all day long, with the plane ride, and the moment on his bed, and then the sex club. The need was so painful. I hate the analogy, but I quite literally felt like a cat in heat.
And his hand alone did the trick.
Well…as much as it could, I guess. It didn’t stop my ache forhim, completely.
But I’m not pushing it.
After we woke up today, my body still cradled against his, we didn’t talk about it. We just continued on the way we were before.
He promised me food, which is what brought us to a cute little cafe about a block from his apartment. It must be good because it’s filled to the brim with customers, and the waitresses are running around like mad.
“Ronan!” one of them yells from behind the bar when she spots us.
“Bonjour, Ilsa,” he replies with a wave and a smile.
“It has been so long” she says in perfect English, and I feel Ronan’s hand at the small of my back, leading me toward a table by the window. I smile at the waitress watching us, and it feels as if I’m walking around with a celebrity.
When we sit down, I stare at him with scrutiny. “Why does it feel like everywhere we go, everyone knows you?”
He picks up his phone to read a message and answers without looking at me. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“That night at the gas station, you were talking to the owner like you knew her name.”
“Her name is Sherie.”
“See. How do you know that?”
He sets his phone down and looks at me with a smirk. “Because I take the time to get to know people. Why is that strange to you?”
I open my mouth to reply, but nothing comes out. A moment later, the waitress, Ilsa, brings us menus, but Ronan waves them away. “No need, Ilsa. You know what I like.”
“A raclette, two plates?” she asks with a smile.
“Yes, please.” He shoots her a dashing smile, and I bite my lip, staring at him across the table. “Champagne as well.”
