by Jane Henry
He murmured approvingly but stopped speaking then, and I felt his warm, probing fingers at my pussy.
“Is my girl wet for Daddy?” He slid his fingers in, groaning. “Fuck yeah. Soaked.”
And then he was gone. I mewled in protest but would say nothing more. During a session, he expected perfect compliance. He would make me come—repeatedly—when he was good and ready, but not a second before.
“So beautiful, decorated like this, like sprinkles on a cupcake I’m gonna eat up.”
I grinned and held my breath, knowing next he’d clean me with the edge of a knife. He’d never cut me, but I’d still feel the scrape along my naked skin for hours. Knowing he could hurt me but wouldn’t turned me on, the play with danger an intimate ride both scary and exhilarating. We’d built a foundation of unshakeable trust.
I started at the first scrape along my skin, and I knew the little hardened drops of wax would be dotting the floor now. I lay as still as I could. If I moved, he could cut me.
“Good girl. That’s Daddy’s good girl.” His murmured approval gave me renewed strength. I could take what he gave me. I would be patient.
I jumped at the feel of his mouth on my nipple once more. He stroked between my thighs, firm, possessive touches making my pelvis jerk. I whimpered, wanting to come already.
He pulled his mouth away. “On your knees, baby.”
He helped me flip over onto my knees, my wrists still free. A sharp crack to my ass made the breath hiss out of me, followed by an order. “Arch that back, belly down. You do not leave that position. Been a while since you’ve had a good spanking, babe. Don’t make it hurt worse than it needs to.”
I shivered, waiting for a sound that would clue me in to what he’d use on me.
He moved away toward where he kept his tools, and I keened at the loss of his body near mine. I wanted him near me. Even now, I craved his nearness.
The nightmares had waned from weekly to monthly, now only a few times a year. He always woke by my side, and he’d hold me until my heartbeat slowed and my breathing settled. I rarely dreamed of spattered blood, or locked doors and dark closets any more. I only visited my therapist every month or so, sometimes even skipping months. I enjoyed my job as business manager of Limits, freelance writer, and mom of two, shedding the old skin of my youth and welcoming a new chance at something beautiful. But I still needed him. I still wanted him nearby. And he honored that.
“I’m right here, Rae,” he said from across the room.
He knew. He knew I wanted him close once more.
The sound of footsteps approaching made my heartbeat slow as he neared. “Relax. Enjoy the darkness,” he whispered in my ear. “Trust me. Do you trust me, baby?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
He stepped away, his hand still on the small of my back, then I felt him tense, and a split second later a sharp slap on my backside made me start, the sound of flesh on flesh reverberating in my ears. Before I could recover from the sting, another spank followed and another. He was warming me up with his hand.
When every inch of my skin was on fire, pulsing and stinging, I felt him reach for something else. I braced myself, but when the tongues of the flogger licked my skin, I welcomed them. Bites of leather scattered along my body as he flicked the little bunch of lashes over my ass, my thighs, my lower back. My pussy throbbed, ached for him, with every bite of the leather. Unlike firmer implements that didn’t yield, the flogger offered little impact, so he could paint my whole body, my skin glowing, tingling, stinging.
By the time he was ready to fuck me, I’d be primed.
When the smack of one particularly awful stroke caught the tender skin of my inner thigh, I nearly bolted upright but caught myself. If I got out of position, he’d punish me. After five years of marriage to Ryder, I knew he could be very creative with discipline.
Focused effort and deep breathing helped me stay where he’d put me, and the intense desire to please gave me the last bit of strength I needed.
“You wanted to move,” he said, his lips against the shell of my ear. “But you stayed in position. You’re such a good girl. I love that you let your hair down now, like this. You needed to, baby. Needed to learn to let down your hair. Now look at you, so lovely for me, Daddy’s sweet girl.” A light lash struck me once more, my skin now flushed with heat. He took my lobe between his teeth and bit down. I squirmed and moaned, as he gentled the nip with the swipe of his tongue, the feel of his mouth on me bringing me closer and closer to climax. One touch of his finger or his tongue, and I would shatter.
“Touch yourself,” he ordered.
I stifled a whimper. If I touched myself, I would come, but I wasn’t allowed to make myself come. I could edge myself to near climax. I could tease myself and he ordered it regularly, loving watching me work myself to a frenzy. But no. Only Daddy brought me over the pinnacle.
Slowly, I reached for my pussy, my hand shaking as I did so. One gentle swipe of my finger, and my hips trembled. “Daddy,” I whispered. “I’m so close. Please.”
His voice hardened and a sharp smack of pain, followed by tingles of pleasure, enveloped me. “Don’t you dare until I say.”
I dry sobbed against the table in desperation.
“Touch yourself until I say stop.” My back arched as something cool stroked the damp skin between my thighs, then my channel stretched and a low vibration hummed. Oh, God. Holy Fuck. The vibrations continued relentlessly and I did as I was told, stroking myself with firm, rapid movements, not breathing, still plunged in darkness. Pain exploded across my ass, a sharp crack of something hard and unyielding. A paddle? A ruler? Whatever it was, it hurt like hell, but the pain only made me want to come harder, faster, the hum of the vibrator making my breasts swell, the flicks of my fingers over my swollen clit bringing me so close, I couldn’t hold back anymore. I didn’t care if he whipped me, how he punished me, I had to come, and I had to come now. I was beyond the point of being able to stop, my world consumed with nothing but pleasure and pain as the vibrator pulsed, his paddle fell in endless smacks of precision, my hands working between my legs with skill.
“Please, Daddy,” I begged. “I’m gonna come. I can’t hold back. Please!”
The vibrations stopped. The spanking was over. Something clattered to the floor and the sound of a zipper and the whoosh of fabric made me hitch my breath. God, I was gonna die, but it’d be a happy death.
I felt his warm, hard cock at my entrance, as both of his hands anchored onto my sides. “So fucking wet for Daddy,” he grunted. “Hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”
One thrust, and I was undone. The merciful, “Come, now, baby,” granted me what I’d been waiting for.
I screamed, my head thrown back as he plunged into me, ecstasy ripping through my body like wildfire. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t speak, my breath was choked out of my body with a low-pitched, near fevered moan. I came so hard my back hurt, tensing as he slammed into me, his hands gripping my hips so hard he’d leave marks.
“Fuck yeah,” he growled, then he roared his own release, grunting with primal satisfaction.
He slumped against me and smacked my ass.
“Five years, two kids,” he said, panting. “Thousands of spankings, fucked you every which way, more orgasms than there are stars in the sky.” He chuckled, bent, and kissed my temple. “And you only get sexier with every day that passes. And I love you more today than the day you said, ‘I do.’”
Tears pricked my eyes though I smiled.
“I love you, Ryder. You’re so good to me. Thank you, Daddy.”
“She’s asleep now,” Rochelle whispered. I stood in the doorway of Rebelle’s bedroom, a warm flutter of happiness washing over me, as I watched Ryder bend over the slumbering form of our little girl. The baby was sound asleep and would likely wake to be fed soon, but our rough-and-tumble daughter was a spitfire who lived up to her name, and bedtime didn’t come easily. “I don’t think she likes the boxes everywhere.”
>
I nodded, and Ryder joined us, softly closing the door shut. We’d relocated to a larger apartment on the top level of Limits, but had already outgrown it. We’d just bought a house a short distance away and the movers were coming in two days.
To my surprise, I’d inherited Martel’s estate, but I wanted nothing to do with it. I’d taken his money, sold his house, and donated every penny.
“She’s like her mama,” Ryder said, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “Likes consistency and structure and predictability.” I felt my cheeks flush a little. Rochelle knew what he referred to.
“Most of us do,” she said softly. “But once she gets more space, and a yard to play in, she won’t want to come back.” She grinned. “And anyway, once she hits her teenage years, the fact that she lives above a BDSM Club might have become an issue.”
Ryder snorted. “Uh, yeah. You could say that. Thanks, Rochelle.”
When a knock sounded on the door, Ryder nodded. “Seth?”
Rochelle nodded, her eyes alight. “Yep.”
We bid them both good night, then Ryder shut and locked the door. “Come here, baby,” he said, sitting on the couch and beckoning for me to come to him. I walked slowly, wondering what he had up his sleeve.
“Yes, Daddy?”
I sat on his knee and he drew me to his chest, kissing my cheek and settling his arms around me. “How’s that ass of yours?”
“Deliciously tender.”
“Excellent.”
We sat in the silence for a bit, a deep sense of contentment settling over me. My babies were asleep. I adored my husband. I had everything a girl could ask for.
“Are you happy, Rae?” he whispered.
I lifted my head from his chest and looked into his bright blue eyes, so earnest and loving. “Happier than I ever dreamed possible.” I whispered back.
He grinned then. “Breaking down that night was the best thing that could’ve happened to me.”
I grinned back. “I’m still sorry about the iron.”
He shook his head.
I sobered then. “Thank you, Ryder. For everything, but especially for showing me that dreams do come true.”
THE END
BONUS CONTENT
Beauty’s Daddy: A Beauty and the Beast Adult Fairy Tale
Billionaire Daddies Book One
Chapter one
17
Annabelle (bonus)
Icy rain whipped my face and hands as I bolted down the length of Main Street. My mind a million other places, I turned the corner and crashed straight into the hugest, most arrogant, pissed-off man I’d ever laid eyes on.
“Jesus!” he roared, lifting the cup up to try to avoid spilling even more, but it was useless. “Watch where the hell you’re going!” His deep voice startled me as he looked down from a lofty height, easily a foot taller than I was. So ashamed I could barely look at him, I was only vaguely aware that he looked familiar. He grasped his crushed coffee cup in one hand, a huge umbrella in the other, held so high over my head it did little to stop the downpour. Thick but well-kept stubble lined his sharp jaw, and black hair hung in savage, daring shocks across his forehead.
My mouth dropped open in horror. “I am so sorry,” I said, looking around frantically but unfortunately there was nothing along the lines of stray rolls of paper towels or time turners that would help me make this predicament any better. There was just me, a sodden, furious monster of a man, and a few bashful onlookers who went on about their business.
They were smart. He looked ready to kill.
I inhaled, prepared to offer my most sincere apology. He towered over me, easily a full head over my slight 5’1” frame. His hands flicked off excess coffee, while he growled, in a deep, husky, pissed-off voice that sounded more like a growl than polite conversation, “You ought to watch where you’re going. For crying out loud, you could’ve burned yourself.” He grunted, attempting to smooth out his clothing, but it was no use. He was a sodden mess. “Did you?”
I blinked. Did I what?
His eyes lifted to mine, brows knit with a furious glare, his lips thinned. “Burn yourself,” he spat out.
I looked down at myself stupidly before responding. “No…I’m fine.”
“Good,” he muttered. “But for Christ’s sake, watch where you’re going.” He turned to leave.
“Mister — whoever —” I sputtered. “I am so sorry I bumped into you like that. Please allow me to compensate you in some way, pay for your dry cleaning, or —”
He turned a scornful eye at me, lips turning down at the edges, his eyes raking me over from head to toe before he scoffed. “You couldn’t afford it,” he said, before he turned on his heel and left.
My stomach dropped, and then I realized that I was now officially late for work.
“Annabelle!” So much for hoping that Linus, the overbearing owner of Diner on Main, wasn’t in yet. “You’re late?”
I frowned, turning away from him and hoping he’d get too busy to notice me again, when I heard a voice behind me.
“Do you have any idea who you just slammed into?” Lucy, the local librarian, was all about small town gossip, and knew every single person who ever set foot in any place at any time. She was even tinier than I was, with thick blonde hair pulled into a braid, sporting a short denim jumper. Perched upon a stool at the counter, her blue eyes blinked at me.
“No idea, Luce,” I said, stepping out of my rain coat and shaking it off in the back room. “And I don’t care. He’s the biggest jerk I’ve ever —”
“Annabelle!” My stomach clenched and I barely stifled a groan.
“Good morning, Linus,” I said as pleasantly as possible, taking my apron off a peg just behind the cash register and slipping it over my head as Linus came around the corner. Linus — a middle-aged dictator with wire-rimmed glasses atop his too-long nose, a thin moustache and a scant scattering of mud-colored hair across his head, frowned at me.
I fumbled to tie the apron in the back, when Lucy came over and did it for me, leaning in to whisper in my ear. “Don’t mind him, honey,” she said. “He’s in a bit of a temper this morning.”
When was Linus not in a bit of a temper?
“Do you know what time it is?” he grumbled, pointing up to the clock.
I can tell time, dumbass.
Releasing a shuddering breath, I nodded. “Yes, sir. 7:07. Looks like my lucky day?” But humor was lost on Linus.
“That’ll come out of your pay,” he grumbled, as he snatched a wad of napkins from the counter. “Go serve the table with the three kids over there.”
I inhaled, shot Lucy a forced smile, and stepped over to the table where three moms with toddlers were having morning coffee. I took their orders, catching a small glass of orange juice before it spilled, and doing my best to put on a smile despite the fact that my head pounded from lack of sleep, my stomach growled in hunger, and I felt like bursting into tears.
I turned to go to the kitchen to place the order with Lucy following me.
“I didn’t get to tell you who that was,” she hissed in my ear. “It was —”
“Annabelle!” boomed a familiar voice.
Oh, for God’s sake.
I closed my eyes, stifling another groan, as Lucy grabbed my hand and squeezed.
Her high-pitched voice piped up. “She’s working, Gavin. Bug off!”
I bit the side of my cheek to keep from smiling. I adored Lucy.
Gavin, true to form, ignored her as he plunked down on one of the spindly chairs by the bar. “Cup of coffee, baby,” he said. “You know how I like my breakfast.” Gavin Montgomery, the local news reporter and small town heartbreaker, flicked his fingers across his cell phone, tipping his head to the side with a cocky grin. He tapped the phone, and a flash illuminated his straight white teeth. As always, he was dressed impeccably, in a tailor-made suit, blue button-down shirt and tie, his hair perfectly coiffed. He was like a small-town Superman in designer duds.
“
Selfie of the day, Gavin?” I muttered. “And no, I don’t know what your usual is.”
Sliding his phone in his pocket, he smoothed out the nonexistent wrinkles from his suit. “Egg white omelette, lean ham, and fruit bowl, baby.”
“Linus doesn’t carry lean ham, Gavin,” I said. “You know what he carries. Standard breakfast sausage and bacon. And I’m not your baby.”
Gavin frowned. “All those nitrates. Is he at least carrying free-range eggs yet? Or still in the dark ages?”
“Dark ages.”
He shook his head and reached for my hand. His fingers were cold, his palm clammy, and I yanked my hand out of his.
“I’m working, Gavin,” I chided. “Let me put in your or—”
But he was too fast. His hand snaked to my waist and pulled me to his side. “I know you’re working, baby,” he drawled. “But why don’t you meet me for dinner tonight? I’ll take you to a new little sushi restaurant over the bridge in town. We can drown our woes in sake and get to know one another a bit more.”
“I don’t like fish, and I despise sake,” I lied. Though it was true I hated fish, I’d never tried sake in my life.
He frowned, his pretty blue eyes looking hurt. Damn him. “How could you not like fish?” he said, with a shrug. “It’ll help you keep your girlish figure even after you bear children, you know.”
My jaw dropped open. “Bear children? I’m only twenty years old, Gavin!”
He shrugged a shoulder, scoffing. “That’s perfect. The younger you are when you bear them, the quicker you’ll snap back into shape. Why not give it a whirl?”
I pulled away from him. “Putting in your order,” I said, ignoring him as he continued to extrapolate on the benefits of women of childbearing years eating fish.
Lucy sidled up to me. “Can I spill his coffee on him?” The reminder of my early morning accident had me groaning out loud.
“God, don’t remind me,” I moaned.
“Remind you of what?” she asked, but just at then two things happened at once. My phone buzzed in my pocket at the very moment I heard a horrible screeching sound outside the diner, followed by shattering glass, wrenching metal, and shouts coming from outside. I pulled my phone out of my pocket. A text from my sister.