I rose to stand at the end of the bed, eyes fixed on hers. I folded my hands behind my back and waited.
“No, Daddy, please.” Her hands cupped her breasts and frantically flew to the apex of her thighs. I leaned forward to capture her wrists and shook my head. Her jaw dropped and her hips squirmed against nothing. “I hate you.”
I grinned, tucking my tongue into my cheek. “Music to my ears.”
I bent, pinning her wrists over her head and capturing a nipple between my teeth. Emma’s heels dug into the mattress and her knees pinched my waist. “Fuck you for this.”
I hovered my face above hers, nuzzling her nose. “You wish, princess. I want to hear more about how you hate me.”
Emma growled, and then was so quite literally spitting mad that she spit in my face. My cock throbbed as her spit ran down my cheek.
I’d never made anyone that mad in my life. I fucking loved it.
And the thing was, she wasn’t mad. Not really. Her legs shook and her nipples had never been so tight. Goosebumps made the downy blonde hairs on her stomach stand on end.
This was unmet desire at its purest. And with every squirm, every whimper, every plea, she played with her limits, how far she could be pushed, how long she could ride that sweet, torturous edge.
“You’re so beautiful, princess. Do you remember your word?”
“Fuck . . . you,” she bit out.
“I don’t think that was the word. Can you stop being a brat for two seconds and nod if you remember it?”
Emma’s face went more serious and she met my eyes with a nod.
I brushed a kiss to her lips. “I knew you were still a good girl underneath it all.” I knelt on the bed next to her and braced one hand around her throat. “You like?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
She panted a whimper when I traced my fingers down the center of her body, stopping just above her pussy. I took a long look to appreciate how ready she was for me. I lifted my hand to my cheek, wiping off her spit and examining it on my fingers. “Guess you thought I needed a little help getting you wet.”
My fingers grazed her slit where I found she had absolutely no issue getting wet. I hummed and applied more pressure to her clit, plunging deeper with my middle and ring fingers in her pussy.
“Fuck,” she moaned.
“Feel good?” I rocked my hand quickly, the heel of my palm on her clit and my fingers lifting up inside her.
“Oh god, it’s too much.” Her hand grasped my forearm.
“Knife?” I asked.
Her eyes were wild, almost demonic when she looked at me. “No.”
After a few more movements of my hand, I pulled it away and tucked it behind my back, only pinning her down at her throat. Emma’s legs pinched together, her hips rolling against the air. “I hate you.”
I smiled down at her. “That’s my girl. Legs open.”
Emma braced her legs wide, her toes digging into the bed. My fingers were drenched with her arousal, her pussy slick and glistening. Winding up, I slapped them against her clit. Her wetness splashed up her stomach and I longed to lick it off.
“Fuck you,” she cried, betrayed.
“You can do better than that,” I said, low and calm.
I slapped her again and this time, her cry was more of pleasure than pain, a moan mixed with a shout. “I fucking hate you!”
“One more?” I asked, and she nodded, her heels touching her ass as her knees stretched toward the end of the bed. “There you go, that’s perfect.”
I delivered the last smack, then hauled her up into my arms. I moved us to the entryway, which had a full-length mirror. “Hands and knees,” I told her and sank to my knees behind her. I moved her thong further to the side, stretching it as much as I could to be able to fully see her. I dipped my head to get a taste of her and Emma whimpered, hips chasing after my mouth as I backed away.
