"Please what?"
The question was patient. Waiting for me to find the words. To ask for what I needed instead of pushing for it through bad behavior.
"Please make me come. Please, I need—I can't—"
"There she is." His voice was warm with approval. "My good girl, asking so nicely."
His fingers pressed harder. Rubbed faster. Found a rhythm that made my whole body shake.
The orgasm was building. I could feel it—that particular tightening, that rising wave of sensation that would break any second, any moment, any—
"Come for me, Auralia."
I shattered.
The pleasure crashed through me like a wave, like a storm, like something too big to contain. I was crying out—his name, his real name, over and over—my body shaking apart over his lap while his hand kept moving, kept working me through it, kept pulling every last tremor from my overwhelmed flesh.
When it finally ended, I was limp. Draped across him like something broken and remade.
His hand moved to my hair. Stroking. Gentle now. The same hand that had struck and claimed and pleasured, now simply offering comfort.
"There you go," he murmured. "Such a good girl. I've got you. I'm right here."
I was still crying. Quiet tears now, leaking from the corners of my eyes. Not sad tears. Not even overwhelmed tears. Just—release. Everything I'd been holding, finally finding its way out.
He shifted me. Carefully, tenderly, rearranging my body until I was curled in his lap instead of draped across it. My head found his chest. His heartbeat was steady beneath my ear—faster than normal, but still controlled. Still the anchor I needed.
"How do you feel?"
The question was soft. Genuine. The Daddy checking on his Little after taking her apart.
"Good." My voice came out wrecked. Hoarse. "So good. Like I can finally breathe."
His arms tightened around me. Holding me together while I remembered how to be a person.
"Daddy," I whispered. The word felt different now. Earned. Real. "I need—"
I couldn't finish the sentence. Couldn't articulate the specific shape of the wanting that was already building again beneath the satisfaction.
But I didn't have to.
"I know, little bird." His voice was rough with his own want, his own need that he'd been holding in check while he took care of me first. "I know exactly what you need."
He pressed a kiss to my hair. Held me for another long moment, letting me float in the aftermath.
Then, his voice dropping to something darker: "And when you're ready, I'm going to give you everything."
I shivered in his arms.
Not from cold.
From anticipation.
From the knowledge that we were just beginning.
Chapter 12
Maksim
