I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood, thighs clenched so tight the plastic straps of the lounger creaked. At 1:47 the egg went full throttle for ten merciless seconds. I came silently, hips jerking, sunglasses hiding the way my eyes rolled back, slick pouring out of me so fast it soaked the towel beneath my ass. Chloe never even opened her eyes.
I waited until 1:55 exactly, then slipped inside.
The house was quiet, cool, the marble floor cold against my bare feet. I ducked into the pool-house bathroom, peeled off my wet one-piece, and tied on the red bikini he'd left folded on the counter this morning. Two tiny triangles and strings. Already drenched before I finished the bows.
The hallway to his office felt a mile long. Every step shifted the egg inside me. My nipples were so hard they ached against the thin fabric. I could smell myself, sweet, desperate omega in heat, and I knew he'd smell it the second I crossed the threshold.
The door was cracked open.
He was behind the desk, tie loosened, sleeves rolled high, forearms corded and inked. The blinds were drawn. The room smelled like leather, cedar, and the dark promise of ruin.
He didn't speak. Just crooked one finger.
I dropped to my knees and crawled.
The Persian rug burned my skin, but I didn't care. I crawled until my cheek rested against his thigh, hands trembling in my lap. He looked down at me like a king surveying new territory.
"Good girl," he murmured, voice velvet and gravel. "Right on time."
His fingers untied the bikini top with agonizing slowness, letting it fall. Cool air hit my breasts; he hummed approval at every bruise blooming across my skin. He turned my head gently, tongue tracing the bite on the back of my neck like he was tasting his own signature.
Then he reached between my legs, hooked the string of the bikini bottoms aside, and drew the egg out inch by inch. I watched, hypnotized, as he brought the glistening toy to his mouth and licked it clean, eyes locked on mine.
"Who does this pussy belong to, Selena?"
I swallowed. "You."
His hand cracked across my clit, sharp, perfect pain. I cried out.
"Wrong answer, baby. Try again."
Tears welled instantly. My voice cracked on the word I'd never said out loud. "It belongs to... Daddy."
The smile that spread across his face was the most terrifying, beautiful thing I'd ever seen.
He lifted me like I weighed nothing, bent me over the desk, papers scattering. My cheek pressed to contracts worth millions while he tied my wrists behind my back with his silk tie.
"Ten minutes late over the last two years," he said conversationally. "Ten for every time you made Daddy wait."
The first spank stole my breath. By the fifth I was sobbing, by the tenth I was begging, voice raw.
"Thank you, Daddy," I gasped after each one, exactly like he ordered.
He dropped to his knees behind me and ate me like a starving man, tongue fucking deep, sucking my clit until I tried to crawl away from the intensity. Every time I moved an inch, his hands dragged me back, spread me wider, feasted harder. I came twice on his mouth, screaming into the desk blotter.
Then he stood.
The blunt head of his cock nudged my entrance. He fed himself in slow, letting me feel every thick inch, letting me feel how perfectly I stretched around him.
"Feel that, baby?" he growled. "That's Daddy's cock owning you."
He started slow, long, deep strokes that ended with his hips flush against my ass, forcing me to say it on every thrust.
"Say it."
"Daddy, please breed me..."
Again.
"Daddy, please..."
Again.
Until the words were the only thing left in my head.
He lost control.
The desk slammed forward with every thrust, wood groaning, my bound wrists jerking against the tie. His hand fisted my hair, arching my back until my breasts scraped the leather inlay.
His knot swelled fast, catching on my rim, stretching me impossibly wide.
I panicked, tried to pull away.
He snarled, arm banding around my throat, anchoring me exactly where he wanted me.
"Take it," he roared. "Take Daddy's knot like the good little girl you are."
He shoved deep and locked.
I screamed as the knot seated fully, as the first hot pulse of his cum flooded my womb. He kept coming and coming, teeth scraping the claiming spot on my neck but not breaking skin, not yet.
Each pulse dragged another orgasm out of me until I was limp, trembling, sobbing his name.
When it was over he untied my wrists, turned me gently, and sat back in his chair with me cradled in his lap, still impaled, still tied to him. He stroked my hair, kissed the tears from my cheeks, whispered filthy praise against my temple.
"You're perfect, baby. You're mine. You're never leaving this house."
I clung to him, wrecked and floating.
His phone buzzed on the desk. He reached for it with one hand, the other still cupping my ass possessively.
He read the screen and went very, very still.
I felt the shift in his body, the sudden tension.
"Damian?" I whispered.
He turned the phone so I could see.
A text from Chloe.
Hey Dad, change of plans. Coming home early, like right now.
Tell Selena I brought her favorite wine and we're doing a movie night in the home theater.
Be there in five. Love you!
Five minutes.
I was naked, dripping his cum down my thighs, his knot still buried deep inside me, the taste of my own slick on his lips.
And Chloe was pulling into the driveway.
His eyes met mine, storm-grey, feral, and utterly calm.
"Looks like Daddy's going to have to figure out how to keep his little girl quiet for the rest of the night," he murmured, thumb brushing my swollen bottom lip.
He smiled, slow and savage.
"Don't worry, baby. I've got exactly the thing to put in that pretty mouth when she walks in."