Something shifts again between us.
Something dark and deep and unspoken coming to life.
A guttural sound escapes him. And then, softly—almost reverently—“Good girl.”
But it’s not praise. It’s like he’s accepting my surrender. Like I’ve handed him something he didn’t know he needed.
His hands cup my breasts, fingers rough as he pinches each aching nipple.
I arch into him, moaning. He cups them with a reverence as mind-blowing as the rough caresses.
“Like that, do you?” he growls.
“More,” I gasp. “More, Daddy. Whatever you can give me.”
He tweaks each nipple, alternating between pain and pleasure until I’m shaking. His mouth is at my neck again, licking, then nipping my shoulder hard enough to sting.
“Yes,” I cry, undulating, caught between the door and him. “Please. More.”
He chuckles darkly behind me, his hand sliding from my breasts to my belly, skimming over my ribcage like he’s mapping fragile terrain.
I feel like I’m something precious he’s been given access to.
“So soft. So fragile,” he mutters. “So much need.”
“Yes, Daddy,” I whisper. “Only for you. Always.”
A groan breaks from his chest as he thrusts forward, rubbing his cock along the seam of my ass. It sends another wave of need through me, violent and hot.
“Fuck,” he hisses. “No.”
“Yes,” I say. “Take what you need, Daddy.”
“No,” he says again, almost like a warning. But then—his fingers are between my legs. He spreads my folds, and I sob. Relief is a violent thing inside me.
“Wet for Daddy, are you, baby girl?”
“Yes,” I moan. “All evening. All day.”
“Spread your legs. As wide as you can. Show me what you have for me, yeah?”
I do.
“A slut for Daddy, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I am.”
His fingers plunge inside me—one, then two—and pain rips through me as my hymen gives way.
I cry out, flinching.
Nathan stills. But I don’t want him to stop. The thought of him walking away now threatens to shatter me. “Please,” I whisper, desperate. “Don’t stop. Please…”
He groans—low, feral—and then he’s dropping to his knees. “Turn around, little bird.”
I do, on shaking legs. The sight of him, on his knees for me, the silver at his temples glinting in the dim light… there’s no defense I have left against him. “Nathan,” I say, begging him to look up.
We’re both in a trance, and I don’t want it to break, but I also want his eyes meeting mine. Those beautiful, kind,laughing silver-grey eyes that captivated me from day one. Acknowledging this... madness we’ve fallen into.
