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“What do you want?”
“I don’t know how to ask for what I want,” she admitted quietly.
“You do not need the right words,” I told her.
Her gaze fell briefly to my mouth, then lower. Her body pressed closer, need no longer hidden behind anger or provocation. For the first time, she was not testing whether I would take control. She was deciding whether she wanted to give it to me herself.
I curled one finger through the silver ring but applied no pressure. Her breath caught anyway.
“What do you need from Daddy, little pet?”
CHAPTER 12
Alessia
Heat moved beneath my skin, starting in my core and spreading outward. My body remembered his punishment, remembered the fire of his hand, the harsh, unforgiving bite of the leather lashing across my backside. But then I remembered the way he’d soothed the sting afterward. My pussy clenched hard at the memory.
I looked at Sergei, at the raw power coiled in his stillness. My gaze dropped to the belt buckle at his waist, to the supple, dark leather that had marked my skin, and could still be felt when I sat down too quickly. My hands, which had been steady before, now twisted in the fabric of my sweater. I couldn’t meet his eyes.
I took a deep breath, the words catching in my throat. They felt so big, so heavy, and saying them out loud felt like a confession, an admission of a darkness I was only just beginning to understand in myself. A darkness that he had awakened, and that I now craved.
“Say it,” Sergei commanded.
My eyes lifted to his, pleading, and my cheeks burned with heat. I couldn’t. It was too much. Too shameful. It left me feeling too exposed and far too vulnerable.
His expression didn’t soften. If anything, it hardened. The patience in his eyes thinned, replaced by a steely resolve that promised the pleasure I craved would be earned, not given. His eyes locked on mine, challenging me silently. I knew that he wouldn’t make this easy for me. He would make me say every single humiliating word, and a very deep, shameful part of me would adore him for it.
My own body betrayed me. A shudder wracked my frame as I licked my lips, my mouth suddenly turning dry. “Your belt,” I whispered, the words barely audible.
He arched a single, dark brow. “How much?”
The question hung in the air. My fingers twisted in the hem of my sweater, and I squirmed where I stood.
“A little,” I breathed, the words a surrender.
A slow, predatory smile spread across Sergei’s face, and it made my knees go weak. He released the silver ring on my choker and took a deliberate step closer, backing me up until my calves hit the edge of the sofa. He loomed over me, his large frame blocking out the light. My heart hammered against my ribs wildly. I was trapped. Cornered.
And I had never felt safer in my entire life.
He leaned down, his face inches from mine, his warm breath fanning across my cheek. His green eyes were dark, almost black in the dim light, and they held a flicker of something… possessive. Maybe even feral.
“Do you need a pink bottom?” he murmured.
I hadn’t realized how badly I needed him to ask. The moment he did, the last of my hesitation disappeared because I didn’t have to articulate the complex, swirling mess of emotions inside me. I just had to answer one simple question.
“Yes,” I breathed, the word a desperate, breathy confession.
A shudder wracked my frame. I was asking for pain. I was asking for punishment. I wanted this.
His thumb came up to brush my lower lip.
“Good girl,” he praised, and the words were a soothing balm on my fraying nerves. Then he straightened, and the air crackled with his command. “Then strip. Everything off. Go stand in front of the fireplace.”
I moved on pure instinct, my hands fumbling with the hem of my sweater, my fingers clumsy with anticipation. I pulled it over my head, the fabric whispering against my skin as I dropped it to the floor. My pants followed, then my bra, and my panties, until I stood naked before him, eyes cast down, the soft light from the fire casting a warm glow on my skin. My skin prickled with anticipation.
He watched me with an unnerving stillness, his eyes intentionally perusing my body. They lingered on my breasts, my stomach, and then the dark curls at the apex of my thighs. My nipples tightened into hard, aching points. I forced myself to stand still, to meet his gaze, even as a blush crept up my neck and spread across my cheeks.
He didn’t rush. He let the silence stretch, let my anticipation build to an almost unbearable peak. The only sounds were the soft crackle of the fire and the frantic beating of my own heart.
