Page 132 of Broken Blades

Fuck.

The word hit me like a puck to the chest. My cock jerked inside her, my balls drawing up tight. I hadn’t expected it to sound like that—so sweet, so desperate, so fucking mine. I groaned, my hips stuttering as I drove into her harder, deeper, like I could brand her from the inside out.

"Again," I demanded, my voice barely recognizable. "Say it again."

"Daddy," she gasped, her body arching beneath me. "Please, Daddy⁠—"

I lost it.

I grabbed her hip with one hand, the other still wrapped around her throat, and fucked her like I was trying to merge our goddamn souls. The couch groaned beneath us; the sound lost under her broken moans and the wet, obscene noise of my cock pistoning in and out of her. She was so tight, so fucking perfect, her body milking me with every thrust.

"You’re mine," I growled against her mouth, my hips snapping faster. "Say it. Tell me you’re mine."

"I’m yours," she gasped, her nails digging into my skin. "Only yours, Daddy⁠—"

That was it.

That was the end of me.

Her moans turned raw, desperate, the sound scraping against my ears like the sweetest fucking torture. I could feel her getting close—her body tightening around me, her breath coming in sharp little gasps, her nails digging crescents into my shoulders. She was right there, teetering on the edge, her whole body trembling beneath mine.

"Come for Daddy like the good girl you are," I growled against her mouth, my hips snapping harder. The words tasted filthy on my tongue, but the way her eyes darkened, the way her body clenched around me—fuck, I'd say them again. I'd say anything if it meant watching her fall apart like this.

And then she did.

Her back arched off the couch, a broken cry spilling from her lips as her pussy fluttered around my cock. The first pulse of her orgasm milked me so hard my vision whited out. I groaned, burying my face in her neck as I spilled inside her, my release tearing through me like a blade. She clenched around me again, her body drawing out every last drop, her breath hot against my skin.

I kissed her then—her lips, her cheeks, her forehead—soft and slow, like I could somehow put her back together after what I'd just done to her. Like I could erase the way I'd just ruined us both.

She turned her face away, suddenly shy again. A blush crept up her neck, her lashes fluttering against her cheeks.

I smirked, unable to help myself. "What, suddenly modest after letting me fuck you senseless?"

Her cheeks burned brighter. "Shut up."

I kissed her again, slower this time, savoring the way her lips parted for me. The way she melted into the kiss even as she tried to hide her face. "Nothing to be shy about, sweetheart. You were perfect."

She made a small, disbelieving noise against my mouth.

I pulled back just enough to see her face. "Every sound you made. The way you took me. Fuck, Chastity." My voice roughened. "You were made for me."

Her breath hitched, her fingers curling into the cushion. She didn't believe me. Not yet. But she would. I'd make sure of it.

"Come to bed with me, yeah?"

The words scraped out of me, raw and rough. I shouldn’t have asked. Shouldn’t have needed this—needed her—like oxygen after being underwater too long. But the second the words left my mouth, I knew I wasn’t letting her go. Not tonight. Maybe not ever.

She hesitated. Just for a heartbeat. Her teeth sank into that plump bottom lip of hers, and something dark and possessive coiled in my gut. I couldn’t stand it—couldn’t stand the thought of her second-guessing this, second-guessing us. So I leaned in and licked the spot where her teeth had been, slow and deliberate, tasting the faint salt of her skin. Her breath hitched. Her fingers twitched against my chest.

Then she nodded.

Relief hit me so hard it nearly dropped me to my knees.

I pulled out slowly, every inch an agony. The cold air hit my cock, damp with her, and I gritted my teeth against the loss. My hands found her waist, lifted her effortlessly. She wrapped her legs around me instinctively, her arms looping over my shoulders. The trust in that simple movement gutted me.

The stairs creaked under my weight as I carried her up. Her breath was warm against my neck, her heartbeat steady beneath my palm where I held her close. The hallway was dark, the only light spilling from the half-open bedroom door. I kicked it the rest of the way open and didn’t bother with the switch. Didn’t need to see. I already knew every inch of this room, every sound she’d make when I laid her down on the mattress.

I set her on the edge of the bed, my hands already moving to spread her thighs. She gasped as I dropped to my knees in front of her, my mouth finding the inside of her knee, then higher, teasing the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. Her fingers tangled in my hair, not guiding, just holding on, like she was afraid she’d float away if she let go.