He isn’t even finished.
“Don’t move,” he orders, and he puts the dull side of the knife to my stomach.
Slowly, he starts tracing circles, weaving around my belly and working his way to my panties. My heart pounds against my chest, hoping he’ll at least leave those— I know how much he likes them. But Daddy’s consequences are severe. He expects nothing but complete obedience, and if I want to rebel against that, I have to be punished.
“Are you learning your lesson dove?” his thick, husky voice growls into my ear.
“I deserve this,” I affirm, breathing steadily.
“Yes, you do,” he says. “You’ve been a bad girl. You didn’t even greet me when I entered the room.”
“I’m so sorry, Daddy,” I whimper. “I promise, I’ll be good.”
“That’s not enough, sweetie,” he says ominously.
On cue, he slides the blade into my panties at the hip, and with one quick slice, the panties are destroyed. He carefully closes the switchblade and removes it from the bed, then takes hold of my panties and tosses them aside. I’m completely naked for him, except for my leash.
“Bend,” he commands me.
“Daddy, are you…?”
CRACK!
He spanks me harder this time, and I whimper, hastily bending forward and pushing my ass up into the air for him. My face presses against the soft sheets, and I hear a murmur of approval before his hand gropes my ass. He takes his time, feeling its roundness and testing it with gentle squeezes.
“You make me hard, girl,” he growls. “Have you learned your lesson?”
“Yes, Daddy,” I plead.
“I don’t think you have,” he snarls, sliding his hand further down the chain so he can grip my hips with both hands. “But when I’m through with you, you will have.”
I feel something thick, hard, and hungry rest between my ass cheeks, pointing toward my back. It’s lightly oiled, and it glides between my cheeks, giving me a pulse to show me how lustful his cock is for me. But he’s tantalizingly far from my pussy.
Next, his fingers slide around my hip and down toward my clit…but it avoids it, teasing around my puffy lips instead. He dives them deep enough to touch my wetness, and he chuckles.
“You’re too eager for what I have to give you, greedy little girl,” he taunts me.
“I can’t help myself,” I whimper, almost apologetically, embarrassed, blushing.
“I know, sweetie,” he assures me, stroking me gently. “Don’t you worry. Daddy’s going to take care of you.”
When he says those words, he moves his cock back, and I have just the briefest of moments to get ready before he slides it down between my thighs and into my pussy.
Daddy’s thick cock impales me, pushing past my delicate lips with all hits hefty girth and throbbing on its way into my tight cunt. I let out a squeal as the sensation overwhelms me. It’s rough and sudden, but I like it that way. No, I love it that way. His cock fills me up and overwhelms me, and that’s something I truly love.
His bulging crown grinds all the way through to my g-spot, and immediately, he hoists my hips up to start rutting furiously into them. When Daddy takes what he wants, he takes it hard and fast, and all the anticipation that he’s been building up in me starts to threaten to let go immediately. It wells up tighter, as tight as his grip on my hips that I hope will leave a bruise.
He’s always so careful, so professional and precise with me that I’d trust him with my life. Trust is the most important part, above all, and my time with Chains only makes me trust him more each day.
He rules me in the bedroom, takes everything from me, sometimes even my breath.
His endless pounding makes me wish I had control of my arms so I could grab the sheets, but no, even that is denied me. I bite down on the pillow, whimpering as I feel myself getting pushed closer to orgasm with every repetitive, deep, thick thrust. My squealing gasps get a higher pitch each time he bucks into me, and I feel myself on the very brink of coming…
…and he stops.
I try to look back at him in protest, but he tugs my chain, chastising me for moving out of line.
“Such a noisy girl,” he growls, and I hear the sound of another piece of gear I hadn’t noticed until now.
He lets go of my chain, then takes whatever he’s holding in both hands and brings it toward my face, lowering it over the front. I get goosebumps when I feel the ball gag on my lips, and I blush harder.
“Take it,” he commands me.
I obey promptly, and he fastens it to my head, rendering me silent, no matter what I try.
“Good girl,” he rumbles.
He pulls back, making me gasp into the gag, and he picks up the chain again to resume bucking. I feel like a plaything, completely deprived of so much control of my own body. He’s so thick and satisfying that I don’t want or need anything else— I want to give it all to Chains, let him fill me up and use me and do it all over again, whenever and wherever he wants.
And Daddy’s hunger is insatiable.
He thrusts harder and harder, over and over again, and I feel so restrained and comfortable at the same time. It’s a delicious prison, and the deeper he goes, the more I can’t help but think about that first night he truly did grab me, holding me against his rock-hard body until I lost consciousness.
The thought sends me spiraling, like it always does, and Daddy feels me.
“That’s my girl,” he growls, getting faster and losing his rhythm second by second. “That’s it, come for me. Make me proud.”
My groan starts small, but then I feel my body tense up moments before an explosive, overwhelming orgasm wracks my entire body. I can’t help but moan and thrash as my body twitches, but Daddy’s control is still absolute, even as he starts to let out jets of hot seed into my fertile, wet pussy.
He holds me tight while he pumps his load into me, shot after shot, pushing his dark crown against my g-spot and bathing it in hot, thick come. Daddy empties himself in me, and I feel tears streaming down my eyes in wonderful, emotional release.
I’m dazed by the time it’s over. My heart keeps pounding even as Daddy carefully unlocks my handcuffs and puts them aside. He massages my wrists gently, then reaches forward and takes the collar off.
“That’s a good girl,” he coos gently. “You did so good for me.”
“Did I make you happy, Daddy?” I breathe, still barely able to wrap my head around how good those words feel to say.
“So happy,” he chuckles as he takes the blindfold off and slowly slides out of me. “You make me a very happy man, Lila.
Once his cock is out of me, he scoops me up into his arms and peppers me with kisses, caressing me gently. His aftercare is the sweetest feeling in the world, and he carries me in his arms bridal-style to the shower, where the hot water soon starts washing us both off and letting us unwind.
I beam up at his wet face, watching his hungry eyes devour me as he pushes his half-mast cock against my overwhelmed pussy. Every day like this reminds me how glad I am I asked him to move in with me on my birthday last week. He’s more of a birthday present I ever thought I’d get.
“I love it when you call me Daddy,” he purrs, running his fingers through my wet hair.
“You’re the only one who deserves me calling him that,” I say back, proudly.
Half an hour later, we’re dressed and heading downstairs, with me leading the way to the kitchen.
It’s Thanksgiving, and the guests are expected to show up within the hour!
“Your mom has the address, right?” Chains asks as I pad into the kitchen and start pulling out pots and pans to start on everything that isn’t already in progress.
“Yep!” I chime happily, still getting used to referring to my mom in casual conversation. “She’ll be a little late, she said.”
Henry trots up to me and circles around my legs before going to Chains and letting him pet him while Chains turns the TV on. Thanksgiving is normally sma
ll, but this year, I have Cassandra, my mom, and Chains’s entire gang (minus Ryder, who Chains sent to go be with his own family) to feed. We have our work cut out for us, including Chains, who it turns out isn’t half bad in the kitchen.
“Shit,” Chains chuckles as the TV plays, “Lila, come check this out.”
I walk into the living room and see a familiar sight on the screen that makes me gasp, but the next moment, I smile.
Dad is getting arrested on the news, being led out of his own office building—my office building now—and into a police car. The news anchor is listing the charges against him, which are numerous: fraud, tax evasion, attempted murder, arson, and many more.
The mercenary we captured was not the team’s leader, and it didn’t take him long to start spilling all the secrets he’d gathered about my father. Between that and the evidence we gathered from the house and the documents I seized as rightful owner of my father’s company, my father was going away for a very, very long time. It turns out there are a lot of lawyers who have been dying to get their shot at him for a while.
“That’ll make it a lot easier to start using his assets to clean up the evil he’s done over the years,” I say.
There’s no easy way to watch your father get arrested, no matter how unquestionably horrible he is, but I’m glad for it, especially because I know how much good I can do.
“I think we have all the time in the world for that,” Chains says, turning and approaching me with that big smile I love so much on his face.
“We do,” I agree, meeting him halfway and feeling his arms go around my waist. “And I might just need a team of big, strong construction workers to make some of it happen.”
“I might just know where to get one of those,” he chuckles.
He bends down and kisses me, and I feel filled with a special kind of domestic bliss and love for the huge, terrifying man in front of me who has so much power over me yet all the respect and adoration in the world. We belong to each other, and from here on out, it’s us against the world.
And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Now,” he says as he breaks the kiss, smiling. “Let’s make a turkey that our new family will remember.”
Next from Alexis Abbott
Corruption. Murder. Cash.
Just another night in Las Vegas.
When Hadley walks into the casino with a pile of chips, a smirk on her beautiful lips, and a swivel to those perfectly curved hips, I start questioning if I’ve been playing my hand all wrong. She almost walks out with a cool million. One woman, able to swindle the whole mafia. She’s too cool for this world. I can’t let her walk out of my life anymore than my boss will let the money leave the casino.
A night of wild passion awakens me to what I’ve been missing in my life.
For the last ten years, I’ve been living under the Mafia’s thumb, pulling the trigger towards the bums and con artists who think they can take my boss’ cash. Smart enough to catch a cheat, and ruthless enough to bloody some knuckles, my way to being a made man is almost certain.
Except, in the Mafia, nothing is certain until it’s a done deal.
And when I find out she’s the next target to disappear?
All bets are off. She’s going to be mine.
I dare them to try to stop me.
Buy Betting on Love
Teaser…
A globe-shaped chandelier hangs from a black ceiling that looks like a more starry night sky than Las Vegas has ever seen. It casts dim light over pristine green carpet with red and pink flower print. And a speckle of blood stains it as I throw a man to the ground after parrying his drunken fist.
“Fuckin’...son of a bitch! I’ll sue this fuckin’-”
I reach down and seize the man by the back of his collar and hoist him up, cutting him off mid-sentence. I wrench his arms behind his back and hold him while I stand him on his feet. He tries to struggle, but I have an iron grip on him, even if he does have about 50lbs on me. I move him away from the bar and toward the back rooms so fast and so subtly that the other guests barely have time to notice that I’m dragging him away.
That’s my job.
I’m working security for this casino, and I make problems go away.
Two of my enforcers are waiting for me once I get the staggering drunk asshole off the casino floor, and they receive him with the grace I trained them to have, holding him up and steady while his head sways back and forth. After that little burst of aggression and getting tossed to the ground, his head is probably swimming. He’ll be lucky if he remembers anything from tonight.
And if he keeps putting up a fight, he’ll be unlucky.
“Got trashed off his ass, started harassing some of the female guests, took a swing at my bartender when he tried to cut him off,” I explained in my usual curt, no-nonsense tone. “I don’t care if he’s not on strike three yet. Get him out of here. If he tries to apologize, throw him in a cab and send him to his hotel. If he doesn’t, he can sleep it off out back.”
“Yes, sir,” one of the enforcers says, and they both give me a curt nod before dragging him off into the shadows. I take a breath, then turn around and stride back out onto the casino floor, eyes combing the place for any other fires tonight.
I’m imposing on my own. I usually don’t have to raise a fist to be intimidating. People stiffen up when I patrol by, and when my gaze falls on them, they get anxious. I use that to my advantage. When I’m on the floor, as far as I’m concerned, this is my casino.
And I run a tight ship.
It’s a Friday, and the sun went down about half an hour ago on this autumn evening that was getting cooler outside by the hour. That means the gamblers are starting to come out in droves, and that means it’s time for security to get out in force. The sooner my forces are out keeping an eye on things, the sooner we’ll know what kind of night it’s going to be. I never let things get out of hand here.
This is a mob casino, and I don’t let anyone fuck with us.
Most people are fine. They’re just tourists, even the ones who are high rollers. This isn’t the kind of place you come in with just a cool $50 to try to blow or invest and make off with a little extra pocket change. People come in ready for the ten grand minimum, and they’re usually the kind of people who consider that chump change.
I watch the steady stream of them coming in through the glass doors. Most of them are older men with younger women hanging on their arms. The men are a mixed bag. Some of them wear suits that could rival my own from some of the best tailors in the world. Others are more relaxed, and I even see a polo or two strolling around. We’re not supposed to let that kind of casual outfit through the doors, which tells me those are the kinds of guests who are too important to stop.
These are the kinds of people who see Vegas as just another stopover between their summer home in Monaco and family manor in California. I’ve even spotted a couple of A-list celebrities making their way through, complete with the big sunglasses and hats that keep them from being recognized too easily. It doesn’t happen often, and when it does...I couldn’t care less.
I’m here to make sure things go smoothly, and I go home with a fatter paycheck than I could ever need. Fast money, fast women, fast luxury-- that’s what drew me in, and that’s what keeps me working smart and climbing the ladder.
And I’m pretty fucking good at it.
The people who make their way in usually fit a profile. I’ve gotten good at reading them over the years. Most are couples or groups, heading in for more of a social affair than anything else. Small groups are easy to deal with, because people are usually too interested in each other to get too sloppy drunk. Large groups are a nightmare, easily the most likely to act out. Bachelor parties are a sign that I need to start calling in extra help.
Lone guests are another story.
Some are professional gamblers. They usually slink in and make a beeline for the tables without getting a drink. Those are the ones I need to keep an e
ye on, because if there’s one rule to this place that always holds true, it’s that the house always wins. If it looks like that’s not going to hold true, I need to encourage it to.
But the kinds of people who know how to handle themselves in a casino are careful. The few who fly under my radar are careful not to walk off with too much or draw too much attention. But most telling of all is that they have a certain look in their eyes, something subtle that hints at intelligence, cunning, and simple luck.
Those are the eyes I see when she walks in.
Nearly six feet of pure red walks through the doors with the grace of an angel and the emerald eyes of the devil himself. Long red hair spills down her pale, bare shoulders and melds with her crimson, form-fitting dress that hugs her curves and ends just above the cherry-red heels that are giving her those extra few inches, but I can tell she’s tall on her own. Her sheer dress gives me a view of those long legs that walk with such purpose, each step knowing exactly where it’s headed.
Those diamonds hanging around her neck don’t come cheap, either. The starry lighting in the casino makes them glitter the way they were meant to, and she knows it. She has confidence, poise, and taste-- even if she’s someone’s arm decoration, no crusty old fart knows how to dress someone like that.
She sparks my interest.
My first thought is that she’s a high-class escort. Women in her profile don’t tend to be here alone, they’re usually heading to meet someone-- some asshole who was either too lazy or too nervous to pick her up from a hotel room. But she doesn’t have that searching look on her when she first walks in. She surveys the room as if drinking it all in. I can almost see her mind taking notes.
I’m ex-military. I don’t get distracted easily unless I damn well want to get distracted. And even though my cock is stirring between my legs at the sight of this girl, my mind is clear when I decide to follow her at a distance and see where she goes. This is one lead I want to follow through with personally.
Stealing Her Page 17