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“You are, Daddy.”
“We’ll go at my pace, understand?” She wanted to roll her eyes, wanted to tell him exactly what she thought of that, but was a good girl and nodded, batting her lashes up at him.
Her body was on fire, her nerves alight with pleasure, and she forgot everything except for the hot thrust
He smirked, obviously pleased by her submission. "That's my good little girl," he whispered, punctuating the end of the sentence with a swift, firm smack on her breast. She gasped, not expecting it. It wasn't bad—actually, she really freaking liked it and wanted him to do it again.
This time, he thrust into her with more force, forcing a soft cry from her lips. His hand continued to rub circles around her clit, sending an electric current of pleasure through her body. As he moved, the pace quickened, his breaths becoming more ragged, and she felt her own pleasure rising to match his.
"You like that, don't you?" he growled, his voice low and seductive. "You love having me in control." She could only nod, her voice caught in her throat as he continued to pound into her, their bodies moving together in a perfect rhythm. "Say it. Tell me you love when I fuck you. Tell me you love having Daddy dominate you."
“I love it,” she gasped, her words barely audible. “I love when you dominate me, Daddy. Please don’t stop.”
He smirked, his eyes dark and hungry. “You’re a dirty girl, aren’t you?” He moved his hands to her hips, and she moaned as he adjusted the angle, hitting a spot deep inside her that made her toes curl.
“Harder, Daddy,” she pleaded, her words hanging in the air between them. “Fuck me harder, please.”
He laughed, a low, throaty sound that sent shivers down her spine. “Anything for my little slut,” he growled, and with that, he increased his rhythm, slamming into her so hard, she swore she could see stars.
Her back arched off the couch, her nails digging into her palms as her orgasm washed over her in waves. He continued fucking into her, his eyes never leaving hers. She could feel a second orgasm building, and she knew it would be even more intense than the first.
"Fuck!" he roared, his body shaking with the force of his release. She moved her hand to her clit, rubbing furiously as he slammed into her one last time before collapsing on top of her, his breaths ragged and uneven.
She felt him spill into her as her pussy contracted around him, milking his cum from his thick cock as aftershocks coursed through her body. Finally, she dropped against the couch again, her breath hitching as she felt him soften inside her. She loved the way he filled her, the way he owned her. And she knew she would do anything, anything at all, to have him do it again.
"I love you," he said again, pressing a kiss to the center of her chest. Suddenly, his eyes lifted, meeting hers, and the weight of whatever he was about to say made her hold onto him even tighter. "And thank you for choosing me."
epilogue
Six Months Later
Abbie chewed on her bottom lip as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, wringing her hands together in front of her. “What if she hates it?” she said again. Jett’s hands landed on her shoulders, and he dug into the tight muscles.
“She won’t.”
“But what if?—”
“She won’t,” he said again, more firmly. Yeah, she wasn't so sure about that. What did he know about art anyway? Nothing.
Well, that wasn’t true. She’d taught him a lot, and surprisingly, he’d retained most of it. He still couldn’t draw to save his life, but he understood it. Mostly.
Leaning down, he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Footsteps sounded from somewhere in the massive house, and she brushed him away. Now was not the time for PDA, she had to be professional. Even if Roxy and the guys watched her nearly cry at losing Candyland last night, that was different. She wasn’t in business mode last night. Right now, she was.
She had to be a total boss. And bosses boyfriend’s didn’t kiss them to calm their nerves. No, bosses just didn’t have nerves because they knew they were bosses.
Jesus, that was starting to sound like a fake word.
She shook herself as Beck strolled closer, his hands in the front pockets of his dark jeans. He gave her one of his famous lazy grins, his dark, messy hair pushed away from his face.
“You ready?”
“Yeah,” she lied, her voice high-pitched. “Totally ready.”
“She’s about to puke, she's so nervous,” Jett grumbled, and she turned to glare up at him. How dare he?
“Watch it,” she growled. “Sharing secrets is not nice.” He just stared back at her, his brow raised. He loved doing that, and she had a sneaking suspicion because he knew how weak it made her.
Not now. He could make her knees weak later. Probably from a mind-blowing orgasm and not from lifting his brow, but she’d take what she could get.
