The moan that vibrated around his cock told him everything he needed to know about her response. His little one loved being used.
“You are doing so well. I’ll be fucking your throat in no time.”
He thrust into her mouth, rocking his hips into her while he held her head in place. “Fuck, you’re going to ensure I take this pretty mouth of yours every day.”
She moaned in response, the hum around his shaft almost pushing him over the edge.
Victor withdrew and looked down at her. “You are enjoying sucking my cock, aren’t you?”
“Yes, Daddy.” Her voice came out breathy.
He pushed his cock back into her mouth and began thrusting harder against her face. He felt her throat constrict around him as she fought not to gag. Meanwhile, he reached over her bound body, his oiled fingers finding her exposed rear entrance once more. As he thrust into her mouth, he worked his fingers back into her arse, fucking the hole with his fingers at the same pace of his hips.
He withdrew his cock and shifted his other hand lower to tease her pearl. When she was panting and on the edge of climax, he removed his touch and pushed his cock into her mouth again, leaving her frustrated and trembling in her bonds while he took his pleasure.
Three times he repeated this pattern, edging her to the brink only to deny her at the last moment, while stretching her arse with his finger.
By the third denial, Olivia was trembling continuously, soft pleas falling from her swollen lips. But he denied her.
“Please,” she finally sobbed, her pride entirely forgotten. “Please, Daddy. I need ... I need you inside me,” she gasped. “Please fuck me.”
He pushed his cock back into her open mouth and after only a couple rocks of his hips, he released on her tongue, tangling his fingers in her hair. “Swallow all of it, little one,” he ground out.
Tears running down her cheeks, she swallowed, her pink tongue licking the bit of white liquid that had dripped on her lips. She was gorgeous.
“May I come now, Daddy?” she asked, looking up at him with her watery eyes.
Victor loosened her bonds, freeing her from the chair before lifting her into his arms. He wrapped a nearby blanket around her before he started toward the door.
“Not tonight,” he said, his voice rough with unexpected tenderness and questioning his resolve to deny her. “But you were a very good girl.”
Olivia pouted, and it put him at war with himself, debating between spanking her and feasting on the honey between her thighs.
“Who do you belong to?” he demanded, regaining control over himself as he placed a light smack on the cheek of her arse.
“You,” Olivia whispered, nestling her head against him.
“And who controls your pleasure?”
“You do.”
He grinned down at her. She was perfect. “That’s right. And you don’t get to come unless I say so, which includes not touching yourself. But I’m going to bathe you myself, since you’ve been so good. And to keep my little girl from being tempted to allow her hands to drift to places they shouldn’t.”
He would tease her to the edge many more times while he bathed her, ensuring his little one would do anything for her Daddy to let her come. She’d crawl to him, need him, crave him.
Chapter Five
Olivia
The Dowager Countess of Meryton received Olivia with cool politeness bordering on frigidity. The elderly woman’s townhouse on Berkeley Square exuded old wealth and conservative values, from the darkly paneled walls to the portraits of stern-faced ancestors.
Victor had arranged this visit as part of her social rehabilitation, along with the call to Lady Pembrooke that would follow. Despite her apprehension about facing society’s judgment, she found herself appreciating his decisive approach to reinstating her in acceptable circles. The word “instructions” no longer irritated her as it once had. Instead, a small flutter of anticipation stirred within her at the thought of Victor instructing her in more pleasurable matters.
Arguably, visiting with the ton’s most shrewd matrons was a simple task compared to the way her body ached from being reduced to begging for her release. After only a week of marriage, her husband had made good on his promise. She bent to his will, not out of duty, but desire.
“I must admit surprise at your call, Duchess,” the dowager said, emphasizing Olivia’s title with faint disdain. “One hears such extraordinary things about hasty marriages these days.”
Olivia maintained her composure, offering the invitation with steady hands. “His Grace and I would be honored by your presence at our dinner party next week. The duke speaks most highly of your discernment in social matters.”
