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I moan louder, my lips vibrating around him. My stroking picks up speed, and when I feel the head tighten even more, I know he’s there.
With my mouth open and my tongue out, I let him unload all over me. Salty jets of his cum land against the surface of my tongue and face.
“Oh fuck,” he mutters as he shivers out the rest of his orgasm.
He tears off his tie and uses it to clean the mess off my face, caressing my cheeks and chin as I close my mouth and swallow what landed on my tongue. His gaze darkens as I do.
“You really are Daddy’s girl, aren’t you, Daisy?”
I respond with a smile as he drags me up onto his lap, so I’m straddling him. Then he kisses a pattern around my neck and chest and up to my mouth. It’s not heated, it’s not leading anywhere. He’s literally kissing me to worship me.
Making him feel good quiets the shame and guilt, but only temporarily. Because feeling his love for me has it rising to the surface again.
RULE #29: YOU SHOULD ALWAYS TRUST YOUR PARTNER—AND YOUR GUT
Ronan
I hold her in my lap the entire way home. Caressing her soft hair, as she leans against my chest, I shove down the feeling of regret for using Daisy so vilely. I’m not corrupting her, I know that, but I can’t help but fear that her reasons for wanting me to use her like that aren’t entirely kink related.
Daisy is hiding something.
When we were in Paris, things seemed great. She was happy, bubbly even. But it seemed the closer we became to each other, the more she tried to distance herself. I can see hints of anxiety and fear in her eyes.
I’m not pushing her for answers, mostly because I hope I’m wrong. I hope there’s nothing threatening to drive us apart.
There’s that foolish hope again.
Once we get back to the apartment, Daisy is asleep in my arms. She’s clearly still working through some jet lag, so I carry her inside. She stirs awake, but only cozies herself further into my arms.
Reaching the bedroom, I set her on the bed.
“Stay with me,” she murmurs, and I try to resist, but I can’t bring myself to pull away. Shedding my clothes down to my boxer briefs, I climb under the covers with her, letting her sleep against my chest.
But I don’t drift off. Sleep evades me as I lie awake with her in my arms, thinking about all the things that could go wrong. Projecting every scenario until I feel hopelessly certain that I will lose her. All based on suspicion and instinct.
I can’t helplessly lie here. Before the sun rises, I climb out of bed and go to my office.
The first thing I do is search up Daisy’s social media accounts, but she keeps them all private. And since I don’t have any active accounts of my own, I haven’t requested access to them.
As I craft an email to an old friend, who occasionally does investigative work for me on the side, I swallow down this crippling guilt. It’s the money that’s done this to me. The money and the heartbreak, never knowing if a person’s interest is genuine. Never knowing what they see when they look at me. That gnawing fear that I’ll never be anything more than a bankroll to anyone ever again is always living in the back of my mind.
So I quickly ask a favor—for him to look into Daisy, giving him all the information I have.
My stomach turns as I type. This feels like a betrayal.
And when my mouse hovers over the Send button, I remember lying with her in the bathtub, eyes closed, feeling more connected to her than I’ve felt to anyone in my life.
Fuck, what am I doing?
Before I can hit Send, I close out my email and shut off my computer.
What did I think he would find? A criminal background she’s hiding from me? Some secret family or life I don’t know about? No. Not Daisy.
With that, I head out of my office and walk back to the bedroom. She’s still sleeping peacefully in my bed, so I crawl back under the covers with her, absorbing her warmth as I kiss her head.
She stirs, clutching tightly to my body. Daisy trusts me. She needs me. Not only to take care of her, but also to give her a safe space to explore this new part of herself and her desires, without having to worry about someone taking advantage of her.
This pain and degradation she craves could be part of her healing process. I want to give her everything she needs, but I don’t know if I have it in me. It’s just not my style.
