Daddy's Demands: Twenty-Five Steamy Daddy Dom Romance Novellas

by Madison Faye

  “One more time,” he told her as he lifted her up and brought her back down hard. The vibrator was gone but it didn’t matter; her tissues were so tender and sensitive, every movement seemed to jolt her to her core.

  He worked her up and down his shaft while he slammed up into her hard with every thrust. Leaning forward, he caught the tip of one breast in his lips and sucked it deep into his mouth.

  Daisy screamed as she came one final time and felt him empty inside her bathing her tender tissues in his seed.

  When it was over she collapsed against him, utterly exhausted… replete… more deeply sated than she’d ever been in her life. Rousing herself enough to lift her head and look up at him, she asked, “Why?”

  “You needed to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I’m your daddy. I’m in complete control and you’re always safe in my arms. I will never hurt you. I love you, baby girl,” he told her as he kissed her deeply.

  “I love you too, Daddy,” she whispered softly as she laid her head back against his chest, snuggling in tight.

  Jethro was her daddy… her home… her world. She groaned when she shifted on his lap. Her pussy and her ass were incredibly sore and well used.

  She felt punished… she felt completely owned… she felt loved.

  The End

  About Morganna Williams

  Morganna Williams is a #1 best-selling author on Amazon in several categories. She lives in Dallas with her family. She is a social worker and does most of her writing on her lunch break. She loves interacting with her readers and you can keep up with her using the links below:

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  Tri-ing for Daddy by Katherine Deane

  Chapter One

  Marnie’s whole body shuddered as the pain slowly crept in. The too-bright sun made her squint her eyes shut, but the nausea didn’t pass.

  “Oh, God, I’m going to puke.”

  Her whole body was tilted to the side and she purged the contents of her stomach onto the street.

  “Miss Lancaster, my name’s Jake. We’re going to get you to the hospital,” a low voice said from a few feet away. How’d he know her name? She hadn’t taken any ID with her on her bike this morning.

  It was just supposed to be a quick cross-training session, just enough to get her muscles warmed up and her heart rate up. Where was her bike? What happened? Why couldn’t she move? She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move; her eyes were so screwed up, they were making the whole world swim around her.

  “We need you to calm down, ma’am, please stop thrashing around,” another voice said, but she couldn’t see the woman hovering over her. “Dammit, she’s going to hurt herself.”

  “Marnie, stop moving for a second and I’ll tell you what’s going on.” That deep voice again, the one that sounded so soothing and calming. His blurry face appeared above hers, and she squinted up, but couldn’t make out more than a head of dark hair. “Come on, baby girl, breathe for a minute, okay?”

  Tears streamed down her face, and when the paramedics tilted her to the side to throw up again, the tears fell into her nose when they adjusted her back. “P-please, t-tell me what happened.”

  The female paramedic made a hissing noise while leaning over to adjust the straps on her arms that were still trying to wildly grab anything within reach.

  “You’ve been in an accident, Marnie.” The male paramedic got closer, and compassion showed in his eyes. She focused on the intense blue staring back at her. “You were hit by a car, I’m sorry. We need to get you to the hospital. Do you need to throw up again? Don’t shake your head, honey. That will make you dizzier.”

  All the thoughts raced into her head. Why couldn’t she feel her legs? Was her head bleeding? Were they going to cut off her favorite tank top? Would she die? She opened her mouth to tell them she was okay to travel, but only one more thought worked its way out. “It’s my birthday.”

  They gently lifted her on the wooden board thing onto something with wheels, and her vision swam again. Closing her eyes, she prayed that this was just a nightmare. That she’d wake up on her real twenty-fifth birthday, with a killer headache and nausea from her early birthday party the night before.

  “Happy birthday, baby.” Blue Eyes stroked her cheek gently, then moved out of her field of vision.

  The world started swimming again, and everything went dark.

  * * *

  Marnie woke up to the annoying sounds of beeping and swishing and whirring around her. She felt fine, her body didn’t ache, in fact she felt nicely woozy like the time she’d been given the valium for her Lasik eye surgery years ago. She wiggled her fingers and pressed her hand to her head and yanked on a strand of hair. Ouch. Okay, she wasn’t having a nightmare, but at least she was alive.

  As soon as the doctors released her from the hospital, she’d get back out and start training. Maybe she’d take a break from the bike a while. Yeah, no more cross-training on the road. Running. What she should have been doing to begin with. The Olympic trials were only a month away, and she was already listed nationwide as the woman to beat. This was her year. The year all her dreams would come true. She just had to get out of this damn place and get back to training.

  She wiggled her right leg and scrunched her toes. Plantar fasciitis had been her nemesis for years now, but if she kept everything stretched out and loose, she’d be fine. Her quad was a bit tight, and her hip felt like she’d been lying in one position for too long. Duh. Roll over and get some blood circulation going, silly. Okay.

  She made sure all the cords and tubes and stuff in her bruised arms were out of the way and rolled to her left side carefully. Her left hip felt like it had been through a marathon training session. It was probably bruised too, given the accident. She didn’t remember it yet, but things were slowly coming back. Ow, her body didn’t seem to like all the movement. She’d have to consider asking the staff from some pain meds to get her through her first few weeks of training. Marnie tried to flex both feet this time and waited for the pinpricks to catch up in her left foot, like they were doing in her right.

  Too much medication? Her left wasn’t radiating the same pain as the right. Her hand crept across her body, to her left hip, down her outer thigh. Then it hit the huge amount of gauze and tape. Then air.

  Empty air, with a light blanket and her right leg strewn haphazardly on the side of the bed.

  “Where is the rest of my leg?” she shrieked.

  People started running into her room and talking to her, but she didn’t hear what they were saying. Her leg. Where was her leg? A nurse said something about giving her something to relax. Someone held her arm still while the tall lady injected something into the tube in her arm.

  Where was her leg? What about the Olympics? Where was her damn leg?

  Her head fell back against the pillow, and she welcomed the darkness this time.

  Chapter Two

  Three years later…

  Jake Ryder watched the gorgeous brunette with the fiery blaze in her eyes stride through the door of his workout facility. His front desk manager and lead trainer stopped their conversation, and carefully averted their eyes from the prosthetic on her left leg and met her gaze with smiles.

  “Welcome to the Ryder Training Facility. How may I help you?” his office manager asked politely. Good, just like he’d trained them. Respectful. Open. Everyone welcome.

  “I want to get back in shape. I’ve been off for a few years.” The brunette glanced casually down at her left leg with a scowl. “I’m not sure what you can do for me, but hey, if you can at least help me lose a few pounds, then that’s something.”

  “You’ve come to the right place.” His lead trainer beamed with pride. “If anyone c
an help you bounce back, erm, get back…” his face screwed up, flustered, “lose a few pounds, Ryder can.”

  “Chill, it’s a leg. Nothing to get excited about. The rest of me is still here and ready to work. Do you mind if I look around quick before I start the paperwork?”

  “Sure, let me give you the tour.” Sam led her out into the main workout area.

  Jake watched them begin their tour, an itch building in him to follow. Marnie Lancaster, the woman who’d haunted his dreams for the past three years. The gorgeous, strong-willed Olympic hopeful in the distance events, whose career he’d followed since college. She’d been only one step away from Olympic glory before that accident. He’d had a fan-guy crush on her from the beginning. But when that car hit her while she was cycling—on her birthday, she’d said—he’d been the first responder on the scene. It’d taken everything in him not to pull her off that board, curl her up into his chest, and promise her everything would be okay. Anything to make her okay. But she hadn’t been all right. A blood clot had formed, and the damage was so severe, the ER doctors had had to make a difficult choice. Her life or her leg. Jake would have given anything to save her leg. Hell, if God had asked it, Jake would have sacrificed his own leg, just so this beautiful young star could continue her life as she should. On her own path to glory.

  He’d been in the hall when she’d woken the second time; when she’d first discovered her missing limb after the accident. The devastation and terror in her voice as she screamed and thrashed around the bed still woke him sometimes. Maybe if they’d gotten to her two minutes sooner…What if he’d… No, he’d done too many damn ‘what ifs’ over the past three years. He’d quit his job as paramedic two weeks after that accident. Now he was running a hot new training club where the worst thing he’d had to tend to was a sprained ankle when a goofy-root turned his treadmill up to ten miles per hour, then jumped onto it. Too bad they couldn’t send that into the funny video show. The guy had been fine, save a wounded pride and sprained ankle. But Jake still flinched every time he heard a siren. His last job had changed both their lives. He needed to get past this, and she was right there walking toward his office with a determined look on her face.

  As hard as it was going to be, for Marnie’s sake and his, he needed to move on.

  “Miss Lancaster.” He stood and shook her hand.

  No wide-eyed recognition or hatred in her gaze as she pumped his hand firmly. She must not recognize him from her accident. “So, you’re the man who sent me the invitation to come work out. And the one who saved my life.” There went the no recognition idea.

  “Jake Ryder. I’m sorry we had to meet like that. I followed your career. How are you doing?”

  Her smile didn’t reach her eyes as she released his hand and shrugged. “Well, I’ve gained twenty-five pounds, pretty sure it’s not muscle, and I’m not really running anymore.”

  “Sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault.” She sat in the chair he pointed out to her.

  “So, what’s your goal? How can I help?”

  “Obviously, I’m not going to compete anymore. I think I’ve finally accepted that.” Her eyebrows furrowed as she looked at a spot over his shoulder. “I’m a bitch.”

  “What?”

  “No, seriously.” She sighed and leaned back into her chair, her metal from the prosthetic scraping against the floor as she moved. “My endorphin levels have plummeted, I don’t sleep well, I’m gaining weight slowly but surely every month even though I’m not eating much. Food tastes like crap. I can’t drink more than a few sips of wine before I’m just swishing it around in the glass.”

  “Merlot and steak and lobster. Your post-race celebration dinners after big wins.”

  “Good memory. Running Weekly loved that insight, along with my ‘I enjoy a small glass of wine the night before a race to relax.’”

  “And a cup of coffee with peppermint mocha creamer the morning of a race, if I remember correctly.” He smiled at her wide gaze. “Like I said, I was a bit of a fan. I was waiting for you to win the 10K and get bronze in the 5K at the Olympics.”

  Her laugh filled the room like a beautiful melody in his ears. “You didn’t think I could win back to back? What kind of fan were you?”

  “A realistic one. You don’t have the same finishing speed as Kenya’s Otaanambi, and you were already going to be fatigued off your 10K win.”

  “Thank you.” Her eyes misted over, and the blue pools shimmered with unshed tears.

  He handed her a tissue from the box on his desk, feeling like an ass for making her cry. “For what?”

  “For saying don’t instead of didn’t.” She wiped her eyes and blew her nose softly. “I miss competing, and I’m getting pretty damn grumpy because of it. I thought you might have some ideas. Maybe work out a hard-core regimen to get my head back on straight.”

  “I have an idea.” It was a crazy one given the limited amount of time they had to get her ready. But she needed something to push for. “You’ve heard of the Paralympic games, right?”

  She wrinkled her nose and frowned as she turned to throw her wadded-up tissue into the wastepaper basket.

  “Just hear me out. You just said you miss competing, that you’re depressed, and you need something to work toward.”

  “I didn’t say I was depressed,” she growled.

  “You didn’t have to. Now I may be overstepping a thousand times over, and I’m taking a chance that you’re not going to either punch me in the jaw or sue me for inappropriate conduct…”

  She cocked her head, giving him all her attention, so he jumped in full throttle.

  “Here’s how I’m calling it. You’re a mess, yes, you are, and we both know it.” He took her chin gently and tilted it, so she had to look him in the eye. “You always liked being pushed to the limit. Your training regimens were the toughest I’ve ever heard, and by some miracle you never got injured.”

  She scoffed.

  “Don’t roll your eyes at me, little girl. I’m still talking here. Yeah, you got injured in a much different and more tragic way, but your competing days are not over. The Paralympics are exactly the place for people like you. Athletes who needed a new place to get their high, their speed, their glory. It doesn’t matter if you are blind, deaf, in a wheelchair, or running with a prosthetic, if you have the desire to push yourself to compete, then you do it.”

  “I don’t think I’m ready for something like that.” A lone tear fell down her cheek, and he wiped it away with his finger.

  “Of course you’re not ready. You haven’t started training yet. Believe me, preparing for this and competing at those games are not going to bring your life back. They might not get you back on a cereal box. They might not land you interviews in every running magazine in the country, and TV interviews.” He stroked her cheek. “But it will give you something to push for, something to feel good about. Maybe we can even get you back to that steak, lobster, and wine dinner you’ve been missing. Do you want to do this?” He had to back off. He knew he was pushing her too hard and she might bolt, but he’d never seen something more clearly than this. He released her and stood back a few paces, giving her time to process.

  “If I do this, what sport am I going to compete in? You already reminded me I don’t have the speed for the shorter distances, and it’s taken me this long to get used to this thing.”

  “Well, the two closest trials that haven’t gone yet are archery and triathlon. It’s a stretch, but I remember you enjoying biking and swimming as cross-training. The overall event would cater to your endurance. If you can…”

  “Get back on a bike,” she finished for him. Releasing a sigh, she ran her fingers through her long, dark hair. “It might take a bit to get used to, but what’s the worst that can happen on a recumbent bike, right?”

  “Yeah, we’d just do all indoor training until the last few weeks before the games. Then we’ll get you on a track or something, so you can get used to the movement without feeling
scared. We also need to get you fitted for a prosthetic that will allow for better energy usage and harder wear and tear. I’ve already done the research, and the Flex-Foot Cheetah will give you what you need. It’s made from carbon fiber instead of titanium and polypropylene and with each step you take, it stores kinetic energy. Kind of like a spring.”

  “I can run and jump like a normal person?”

  “It even looks like a foot. You can a wear a shoe over it and everything. I’ll text you the links, so you can check it out. What do you think?”

  “Who would work with me?”

  “One of my best female trainers, Louisa. She used to be a triathlete and can bring a lot to your training. She’s going to start you off easy, though, at first, so we can make sure we don’t injure you.”

  “You wouldn’t be training me?” Was that hurt flashing through her eyes? It passed quickly.

  “Sorry, my plate is full for the next month, but I will be here for overall questions and support. I just can’t give you the same time Louisa can give you.” He was an asshole and a liar. He could easily shift a few clients around and take her on, but he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. Because he was afraid. If he took her on and gave her everything he could, and she didn’t compete well, it would be on him. He’d have just one more thing waking him up at night. One more moment to see Marnie Lancaster break down. And Marnie’s tears had broken him three years ago. He couldn’t do that to himself again. Wimp? Yes. Asshole, yes. Personal trainer for the woman he was pretty sure he was in love with, even after only meeting her now twice? Definitely no.

  “Let me think about it. I want to start slowly.” She shook his hand, thanked him, and Jake led her out to start the paperwork.