Her brows pulled together, pain flashing in her eyes. “Little one, I want you more than you know. I’ve wanted you since the night I first kissed you. But I thought—” She exhaled hard, steadying herself. “It’s best to wait. To let you figure yourself out first. To not push you before you were ready,”
The ache in my chest cracked open wider. “I don’t want to wait.” My voice shook but held steady. “I want you. I don’t want you doing that alone when I could be the one getting you off. I want to feel you lose it with me. I want…” My breath shivered out. “I want your mouth again.”
Her pupils blew wide, heat flashing across her face.
I cupped her cheeks, tears still rolling. “Please don’t shut me out. Not from this.”
Her eyes narrowed, the hunger in them sharp now, controlled. She caught my chin in her fingers, holding me still, forcing me to look at her.
“Careful, little one,” she warned, her voice deep, commanding. “You don’t get to make demands of me.”
Heat rushed through me, and I whimpered, already undone by her authority. “Please,” I whispered. “Please, Daddy.”
That earned me the faintest smile—dark, approving. Her thumb stroked my lip slowly, almost lazily, though her eyes never softened.
“You want to be the one to make me come?” she asked, tone low and dangerous.
“Yes, Daddy,” I breathed. My whole body shook as the words left me. “Please let me.”
She leaned in close, her breath hot against my ear. “Do you even know what you’re asking for? To taste me? To serve me properly?”
My thighs pressed together helplessly, the ache between them unbearable. “I want it. I want you.”
A sharp tug in my hair snapped my head back, and I gasped at the jolt of it. “Say it right.”
“I want to please you, Daddy,” I corrected quickly, breathless.
Her smirk curved slow and sinful. “Better.”
Then her mouth crashed against mine, claiming me fully, leaving no doubt about who held the reins. She kissed me until my head spun, then pushed me back just enough that I toppled onto the couch cushions. I looked up at her, wide-eyed, heart pounding, as she stood over me like she owned me. Because she did.
She slid her thumb across my wet bottom lip, then pressed it into my mouth. “Suck.”
I obeyed. The word—suck—was a command and a promise, and I wrapped my mouth around her thumb like it was the only thing keeping me steady. Her weight hovered above me, warm and heavy, and I focused on the one task in front of me: to give.
“That’s right,” she murmured, watching me with hooded eyes. “Such a good girl. If you want the privilege of my mouth on you again… you’ll earn it. Tonight is about you proving just how much you crave to serve me. Follow me.”
I did. And she stripped down in the bedroom and got in the middle of the bed where she propped herself up, spread her legs, and she motioned for me to get between them. I slid off my shoes quickly and got on the bed as instructed. She put my hands on her hips, palms flat, fingers splayed.
“Get comfortable, because I’ve been waiting much too long to have you right here.” She murmured.
I removed my jeans, t-shirt, bra, and socks. Lying back down with only my panties on. Daddy leaned down and kissed me until I was breathless. When I tried to follow her mouth when she pulled away, she lowered my head between her thighs. I moved exactly how she wanted—slow when she wanted me slow, firmer when her breath hitched and the pressure in her hand told me to press. I tasted her, the faint salt of skin and the tang of sweat from the heat of her body; every tiny noise she made was music, and I leaned into it, memorizing which noises meant ease and which meant need. I loved the taste of her, and as she moved against my mouth, I became just as needy as she was.
“You’re doing very well,” she murmured, voice low and approving. “Eyes on me when I tell you.” Her hands traced down my jaw. “Good girl. That’s it. Give me everything you have.”
I looked up at her between my tasks—at the set of her jaw, the way her nostrils flared, how her fingers tangled in my hair when she wanted more. I matched my rhythm to the cues she gave: a tightening in her hips, the soft curse that escaped her throat. Each tiny victory—another approving sound, a softening sigh, a hand flattening to my head—made me bolder, made me want to please her more fiercely.
She guided me precisely, always in control. When she wanted me to slow, she pressed my chin gently and I obeyed. When she wanted more, her fingers tightened and I responded. There was no confusion. Her commands cut through the fog of need and fear that had lived in me for so long; that fog cleared and all that remained was the clarity of service.
At one point she pushed me up onto my knees and steadied me with both hands at my shoulders. “Look at me,” she said. Her tone left no room to bargain. I did, and the sight of her—strong, raw, and burning—sent a new bolt of wanting through me. “Tell me you want to make me come,” she ordered.
“I want to make you come, Daddy,” I breathed. Saying it anchored me. It made my purpose obvious and made me feel small in the best possible way.
She let out a long, low sound and slid a hand down to my shoulders, fingers kneading like punctuation, pushing me back toward the prize. “Then work for it. Don’t stop until I tell you.” She watched me the whole time, eyes hooded with need and approval, and I poured myself into the work—deliberate, focused, hungry to earn the ownership in her gaze.
When the rhythm finally changed and her reactions sharpened into something more urgent, I didn’t falter. I matched that urgency with every ounce of myself until she cupped my face, the pressure of her palm gentle and fierce at once, and released a sound that turned into a low, trembling exhale. Her body relaxed and then tightened again, and when she came—when she let go in that small, contained explosion—I held her through it, not because I had to but because I wanted my hands and mouth to be the calm that followed her storm. And I drank it all from her. Nursed her sweetness until she wore that look of contentment on her face.
She caught me as she came down, hauling me into her lap and folding me into her like I’d been the missing piece she was finally allowed to claim. For a beat I couldn’t tell where the caring stopped and the control began; they lived right on top of each other.
