I shake my head, throat too dry to speak. "Please, Nathan," I rasp. "I hurt. Everywhere. Please…make it stop.” If my begging pleases him, I will put my entire damned soul into it. "Only you can make it better.”
Chapter 8
Jasmine
I can sense the shift in him so clearly that a relieved sob escapes me. My knees are barely holding me up. But he’s there.
Mr. Grayson, to catch me, to hold me.
His hands are everywhere but nowhere. They skim over my damp skin—up the slope of my nape, across the line of my shoulders, tracing the ridge of my upper back.
His mouth follows the path of his hands, open and hot, dragging over me in lazy, claiming laps. But never reaching past my jaw, never reaching for my lips.
Another hand squeezes at my hip, kneads the curve with rough fingers that scrape just enough to make my blood fizz, the knot in my core cinch tighter and tighter.
“Please, Nathan,” I whisper, pushing back. “Let me turn. Let me touch you.”
“No,” he says, sharp. “No talking, little bird. Or I walk away.”
I freeze, stunned. This is not the Nathan I know. But it’s the man I’ve always sensed under the surface—quiet, steady, in control of every detail.
“I just—” I start, but his fingers press against my mouth, and one slides in.
I clamp my lips around it and suck without thinking, needing something—anything—to hold on to. A muttered “fuck” bursts from him, and then his hips slam against me, grinding his cock into my bare ass.
It’s thick. Heavy. Hot. So big that it’s going to hurt. But even that makes my core pulse in anticipation.
I moan around his finger, heat flaring through my body like an explosion. My mouth dries. I can’t see him, but I can imagine the length of him inside me.
Stretching me. Claiming me.
I try to move my hands back, but he grabs them in one firm fist, yanks them above my head, pins them there.
“Keep them here. Or I walk away.”
“You have too many rules,” I whimper, grinding shamelessly against him.
“And you’re breaking all of them,” he growls. “That won’t do.”
“If you want this,” he breathes against my neck, “you stay quiet, baby girl.”
Baby girl…
My core clenches hard. My nipples tighten even more, as if responding to the pure command in his voice. It’s not just arousal—it’s something deeper. A thread pulled taut inside me, strung between strength and surrender.
My fingers curl above my head. I can’t see him, but I feel him everywhere. And I realize I would do anything—anything—to be called that again.
“You be that good girl I know you can be, Jasmine,” he murmurs. “Like you are around my house. Everywhere. But nowhere. Always looking to me with those big searching eyes.Looking to me to fix things for you. Needing me.” His grip shifts, almost reverent. “I’ll give you what you need here too.”
“Yes, Daddy.”
His entire body goes taut behind me.
I feel it in the stillness of his hands, the tension radiating from his shoulders, the sudden halt of everything.
“I can be a good girl for you.Only you,”I whisper. “If you want me to beg, I’ll beg. If you want me to kneel, I will.”
His grip on my wrists tightens—not enough to hurt, but enough that I know he heard me. Felt my words deep inside him where he’s all desire and no control. His chest heaves against my back like he’s struggling to breathe. The hard length of him throbs at the base of my spine.
