“Needy little princess.” His low, wicked laughter was another jolt. “So wet for her Daddy. You really think I believe that bullshit you were feeding me about reading how-to novels?”
Her heart, already racing from the burgeoning orgasm he was relentlessly pushing on her, jerked in her chest. “It wasn’t bullshit.”
“Liar.” Another of those quiet chuckles. “You think I couldn’t smell you the second I walked in the door? But maybe I’m wrong.”
Two fingers pushed inside her, and she arched up with a cry as pain and pleasure melded together with such blinding intensity she could scarcely breathe.
“Maybe you were reading about murder and torture and that’s what’s got you all hot and bothered. Maybe you aren’t as righteous as you like to pretend to be, princess. Maybe you’re more like me than you’re ready to admit.”
It was impossible to lie to him when she was pinned beneath him, his fingers pumping in and out of her drenched pussy. Stripped of all pretense, she met his burning gaze. “Maybe I am.”
She saw it, just a flash of the monster beneath the mask before his lips slammed against hers and he was drinking in her screams as molten hot pleasure flooded her body. Those clever, wicked fingers slowed but didn’t stop, draining every last ounce of pleasure from her before he pulled back, a smug smile tugging at his lips as he stared down at her.
“Read your books, princess. And when you need me, I’ll make myself available to see to your needs. My only caveat is that while you are under my roof, your pleasure belongs to me. Which means you keep your hands off this pretty little pussy. Are we understood?”
Yes, Daddy. The response she knew he wanted trembled on her lips, but she managed to pull it back just in time. “And why would I do that?”
“Because deep down, you want to be my good girl.” Leaning in, he brushed his lips over hers. “But, more importantly, because you know the pleasure you might give yourself would be a weak imitation of what I can give you.”
“I’m not making any promises… but if I did agree, I’d have my own rules.”
“I’m listening.”
“No sex. You can use your hands, mouth, and toys, but not your cock.”
“Deal.”
“Just like that?”
“A wise man chooses his battles, princess. And there’s no point in arguing with you when you’re going to end up in my bed anyway.”
“I will not.”
“Yes, you will. And when that time comes, I’m not going to give you what you so desperately want until you beg me for it. Until you’re on your knees, a whiny, needy mess, begging and pleading for Daddy’s cock to fill that sweet little cunt. But you’re going to have to beg very prettily, or I might decide to fuck your other holes instead.”
“That is never going to happen.”
“We’ll see.” Another whisper of a kiss, and then he was standing beside the bed, tugging at the sleeves of his suit jacket as if nothing had happened. “Enjoy your books, princess. You know where to find me when you need a little something to take the edge off.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Aria
After a very long, very heated internal debate, she decided to go down for dinner that night. She’d come to the conclusion when Killian had left her bedroom after finger-fucking her to one of the best orgasms of her life that the last thing she needed was to be locked in a room with him again. It was just too dangerous.
Since her closet seemed to be magically filling itself with clothes that fit her damn near perfectly, she was even able to dress for the occasion. She’d tracked down Reagan earlier that afternoon to find out what the dress code was. It had been a pleasant surprise to learn that the O’Rourkes were pretty laid back about their Sunday dinners. Based on the books she couldn’t stop reading no matter how she tried to avoid them, she’d been expecting a black-tie affair.
But Reagan had just rolled her eyes and told her she could show up in a potato sack for all anyone cared, so here she was, dressed in a pair of surprisingly stretchy jeans that helped ease the discomfort of her bloated stomach and a cute, flowing top in a bright forest green.
She told herself it was just a coincidence that the top matched Killian’s eyes almost exactly.
“Well, don’t you look fucking adorable.”
Pausing at the bottom of the stairs, she struck a pose for Reagan. “Thanks. It’s actually kind of nice to put on some cute clothes instead of pajamas.”
“To be fair, the pajamas are equally adorable.” Taking Aria’s hand, Reagan twirled her in place and heaved a dramatic sigh. “It really is too bad my brother scooped you up first. We could have had some fun together.”
Feeling bold, Aria stepped closer, letting her head fall back as a smile curved her lips. “We still could. Who needs men, anyway?”
