The Slave Daddy Wouldn't Free

Elina POV

I never imagined betrayal could feel like this.

I sat on the edge of my bed, my arms wrapped tightly around my knees, staring at the dim light filtering through my window blinds.

The room felt suffocating, thick with silence and shadows. My phone lay beside me, its screen still glowing with the message that had shattered my entire world.

"I didn't mean for you to find out this way."

Daniel's words burned into my mind like poison. Three years. Three whole years of my life... wasted. Every promise, every whispered secret, every night I fell asleep believing he was mine - it had all been a lie. And it wasn't just anyone. No, that would've been easier to stomach.

It was her.

Jasmine.

The very same girl who made my high school years a nightmare. The girl who mocked my clothes, spread rumors about me in the locker room, and made me feel like the ugliest, smallest thing walking those halls. And somehow, she had slithered into my life again, this time stealing the person I loved most.

I let out a choked, broken sound. I wasn't even sure if it was a sob or a gasp for air. My chest ached in a way I couldn't describe, like someone had reached inside me and twisted my heart until it tore apart.

How could he?

A knock on my door made me flinch. I didn't answer. I didn't want anyone to see me like this - pathetic, heartbroken, and barely holding on.

"Elina?" came Mia's gentle voice.

I squeezed my eyes shut. "Go away," I croaked, my voice cracked and raw.

But the door creaked open anyway, and I felt the mattress dip as Mia sat beside me. I couldn't even look at her. I didn't want to see pity in her eyes.

"Elina..." she sighed softly, placing a hand on my back. "I know you're hurting. I wish I could take it away for you. But... you can't stay locked up like this."

I stayed silent, tears slipping down my cheeks, one after the other.

Mia's voice brightened, trying to pull me out of my storm. "Listen - my sister's getting married. In Vegas. A beachside wedding. Waves, music, drinks, no Jasmine, no Daniel... no memories. Just you and me."

I shook my head, my throat tight. "I... I can't. I don't want to see people. I don't want to pretend I'm okay."

"You don't have to pretend," she whispered, turning me so I was forced to face her. Her eyes weren't filled with pity. They held something else - a quiet kind of understanding. "Come with me. You don't have to talk, you don't have to smile. Hell, you can cry in the car the whole way there. But just... be somewhere else for a little while."

I stared at her, my chest aching, my heart still in pieces. And yet... a part of me, some small, broken fragment, wanted to believe there could be a moment of quiet somewhere away from this suffocating room. Away from this town where everything reminded me of him.

I swallowed hard, my voice barely above a whisper. "Okay."

Mia's face lit up with relief, and she pulled me into a tight hug. For the first time in days, I felt a flicker of warmth.

"I'll pack your things," she said, pulling away. "We leave in an hour."

And as the door closed behind her, I exhaled a breath I didn't know I'd been holding. The pain was still there, sharp and cruel. But for the first time, there was a distant promise of something else too.

Escape.

Even if only for a while.

.

.

.

.

*At the wedding*

The salty wind hit my face as we stepped onto the beach, the sun already beginning its descent, casting the sky in warm shades of orange and pink. Waves crashed against the shore in steady rhythms, and the air smelled of sea, sand, and the faint sweetness of wedding flowers.

Mia's sister looked radiant in her white lace dress, her hair pinned up with soft curls falling to her shoulders. Everyone was smiling, laughing, clinking glasses. It was beautiful. It should've made me feel something.

But inside, I was numb.

I held the glass of whatever cocktail Mia had shoved into my hand, barely tasting it as I downed it in one long gulp. The burn was sharp, but welcome. I grabbed another.

And another.

I wasn't counting anymore.

I just wanted the ache in my chest to blur, to drown out the memories of Daniel's hands in mine, his voice in my ear, his lies threading through the years like poisoned threads.

I must've looked a mess, barefoot in the sand, my dress slightly wrinkled from sitting too long, hair tousled by the wind. But I didn't care. I wasn't here to be seen. I wasn't here to laugh or catch the bouquet. I was here to forget.

Somewhere between my third and fourth drink, the music softened and the crowd thinned near the shoreline. I wandered closer to the water's edge, the sand cool beneath my feet. The ocean stretched endlessly ahead, waves glowing under the dying sun.

I stopped walking and stared out at the horizon, my eyes stinging.

Why?

Why did he do it?

Why her, of all people?

A sharp, painful lump rose in my throat. I bit my lip hard, trying to swallow it down, but the tears blurred my vision anyway. I hated how fragile I felt. How easily broken I was. I used to be tougher than this... didn't I?

I turned my face to the wind, hoping it would dry my eyes before anyone saw.

"Funny thing about the ocean... people come here hoping it'll wash their sins away. Or at least drown what's breaking them. Which one are you...?"

I froze.

I wasn't sure if it was the alcohol or the ache in my heart, but for a moment I thought I'd imagined it.

And there he was.

A man leaning against a tall palm tree a few steps away, a man watched me with a quiet, curious expression.

I blinked up at him through the haze of tears and alcohol, my head swimming a little. My lips parted to say something, but nothing came out.

God... he was gorgeous.

Up close, he was even more dangerously good-looking than I first thought. Strong jaw, a faint shadow of stubble, those gray eyes like the storm before rain, and a mouth that looked like it never smiled for no reason. The kind of man you didn't meet at beachside weddings. The kind of man you met in stories - or trouble.

I swallowed, my voice faint. "I wasn't trying to drown."

He gave a small smile, "But you looked like you wanted to disappear."

I bit my lip, "Maybe I did."

There was a pause - not awkward, but heavy. Then he spoke, low and unhurried.

"Don't. No one gets to take you out of this world but you. And trust me... this world would miss a face like yours."

I glanced up sharply, caught off guard by the words. Not because it was a line - God knows I'd heard plenty of clumsy ones in my life. But the way he said it... like it wasn't about my face at all.

I managed a weak, crooked smile.

"Are you always this dramatic with drunk strangers on the beach?"

His grin deepened, and something in his gaze darkened, like he wasn't a stranger to this kind of sadness.

"Only the beautiful ones."

I don't know what came over me.

Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the way he looked at me - like he saw all the broken pieces and didn't flinch. Or maybe I was just so tired of hurting I needed something, someone, to burn the ache away.

Before I could stop myself, the words tumbled out of my mouth.

"Do you... wanna sleep with me?"

Elina POV

"Do you want to sleep with me?"

He froze. His brow arched, eyes narrowing slightly as if he wasn't sure he heard me right.

A long, charged silence stretched between us, the crash of waves filling it.

I felt my face flush, but not from embarrassment. I wasn't sorry. I was so sick of people acting like they knew what was good for me.

Like I was some fragile thing that needed to be handled with care. Screw that. I'm going to be wild tonight.

"I'm serious," I whispered, my voice unsteady, but my eyes holding his. "I want to do it. With you."

For a moment, he didn't move. His gaze locked on mine, something sharp and unreadable flickering in those storm-gray eyes. Like he was weighing something dangerous in his head.

"You don't even know my name." Then, his voice dropped, lower and rougher than before. "If you would, you wouldn't dare to, ma bella."

"I don't care," I whispered, surprising myself with how true it felt. "I don't want to talk. I don't want to think. I just... I want to forget. Tonight."

His jaw tightened. A muscle ticked in his cheek as he dragged a hand through his silky hair, his gaze still pinned to mine.

"You're not scared, are you?" I smirked, my voice a little unsteady, a little slurred - but fierce.

His jaw flexed, and something in his expression darkened.

"Careful, little girl," he muttered, voice low, dangerous. "You don't want to start something you can't handle."

it wasn't a warning.

It was a challenge.

And hell, I was too heartbroken, too drunk, and too furious at the world to back down from anything tonight.

"Who says I can't handle you, old man?" I murmured, the words slipping out with a confidence I didn't feel but refused to let go of.

For a heartbeat, something flickered in his gaze. Interest. Amusement. Hunger. Maybe all three.

The corners of his mouth lifted in the faintest, most dangerous smile I'd ever seen, and my stomach did something stupid.

"You've got a dangerous mouth," he said, voice low and rough, sending a shiver through me as he leaned so close that our lips touched. "You're tempting a devil you can't tame, chiquita."

His fingers traced my throat, lingering like a promise. "I don't love gently. I don't touch softly. When I want something... I devour it. I'm not the man a girl like you should be looking for."

His voice dropped lower, more dangerous. "I'll have you spread, begging, dripping for me, until you forget every boy you've ever known. I'll own this body, this mouth, that sweet little cunt - and I won't stop until you're ruined for anyone else."

I tipped my chin up and met his gaze dead-on. "I'm not some porcelain doll you have to be gentle with," I whispered. "If you're going to break me, do it right. Fuck me like the man you are."

And just like that - something in him snapped.

His expression darkened, his eyes gleaming like a wolf finally given permission to bite.

And then - God, then he moved.

His hand shot out, rough fingers curling around the back of my neck, pulling me into him as his mouth crashed against mine. It wasn't a kiss. It was a claim. A punishment. A spark in dry brush.

I gasped into it, but it only gave him more.

His tongue slid against mine, hot, demanding, devouring every broken, angry, reckless part of me. My hands tangled in the front of his shirt, fisting the fabric like I could anchor myself there, like if I let go, I'd drown.

His other hand slid down, tracing the curve of my hip, fingers splaying across my waist before tugging me flush against him. I could feel the hard line of his cock through his jeans, pressing into my stomach, and it sent a fresh, wild thrill through me.

He kissed like a man who didn't ask, didn't hesitate. Like he was going to taste every inch of my mouth, every shattered piece of my heart, and swallow it down whole.

When we finally broke apart, we were both breathing hard, our lips wet and swollen, his eyes stormy and black.

"Fuck," he rasped, his forehead pressing against mine for half a second. "You're trouble."

I gave him a crooked, breathless smile. "Takes one to know one."

His thumb brushed over my lower lip, gaze flicking down to my mouth like he was already imagining what else I could do with it.

"Let's get out of here," he muttered, "I'll take you somewhere else."

I didn't remember how we got to the resort.

Somewhere between his hand claiming mine and the roar of his engine on the road, the world blurred into heat and darkness and the pounding rush of blood in my ears. The private beachfront resort was a blur of soft lights and distant music, but all I saw was him.

His hand was at the small of my back, possessive, guiding me through the door of the room like he already owned me. And maybe for tonight, he did.

The second the door shut behind us, we were on each other.

His mouth crushed against mine, rough and unrelenting, fingers tangling in my hair as I clawed at the buttons of his shirt, desperate to feel skin, heat, something real.

The low growl rumbling from his chest vibrated the space between us as he backed me toward the bed.

I didn't hesitate. I didn't think. I wanted to forget. I wanted to ruin myself with him.

Clothes fell away in a frantic, reckless mess, my dress slipping down my body, his hands everywhere - hard and rough, tracing my curves, claiming my skin like he had every right. And God, maybe tonight he did.

The backs of my knees hit the bed, and he pushed me down, following me with a look in his eyes that made my stomach flip and my thighs clench.

He was naked. Unashamed. Unrushed.

Just there-his body carved in angles and heat and everything I wasn't supposed to want this badly. His body was way too perfect.

"You sure you want to do this, baby girl?" he rasped, voice dark and low like gravel over silk.

"Yes, Daddy. Please take me."

The word hung in the air like a dirty little tease.

His tethers of patience snapped.

"What did you just say?"

Elina POV

The sexy man's expression darkened, his gaze sharpening with a raw, feral hunger. Whatever restraint he had left shattered in an instant.

His rough hands gripped my ass, yanking my hips, slamming against him.

"What did you just call me?" he growled, his voice low and dangerous, thick with menace and desire.

A flush of molten heat rushed through me, my skin burning, my pulse pounding in places it shouldn't.

I knew exactly how filthy, how deliciously obscene that word was - the kind of word that makes your stomach flip and your inner thighs clench. And judging by the way his jaw tightened, it struck a nerve in him too.

A wicked grin curved my lips as I locked my legs around his waist, pulling him even closer.

"Daddy," I whispered, daring him again.

And just like that - he snapped.

He growled and his mouth was on mine. And it wasn't soft. It wasn't careful. It was rough, punishing, a furious claim that stole the breath straight from my lungs.

His hand tangled in my hair, yanking my head back just enough for his tongue to plunge deeper, tasting, devouring, taking like a man starved for too long.

His other hand gripped my thigh, hoisting it higher around his waist, grinding his body against mine in a way that made my head spin.

Oh god.

My toes curled as his hand lifted my breast as if to support it. My nipples spiked up at his touch.

"Does it feel good, ma bella?" He drawled as he nibbled and sucked my nipples drawing more moans.

"Yes.." I gasped as his hand which had been gentle now squeezed my entire breast with force. And the way he relentlessly teased my breasts felt almost malicious.

"Aah..." I moaned and I could feel myself getting more wet. And with a light tap he swatted my legs.

"Spread your legs." The words weren't a question. They were a command, low and rough, soaked in authority and sin.

A wicked thrill shot through me, blood pounding in my ears. No one had ever spoken to me like that - like I was his to do with as he pleased. And God help me, I wanted it. Needed it.

I bit my lip, my heart a wild drum against my ribs. The air between us felt thick, charged with something electric and forbidden.

I held his gaze as I slowly, deliberately obeyed, letting my legs fall open for him, and just like that I was bare and naked, completely exposed to a much sexier, a man much older than my age.

I felt liquid drip between my legs. The cool night air kissed my skin, but it was his eyes - dark, molten, hungry - that made me shiver.

"Have you been this wet for me all along, ma bella?" His voice was pure sin, the kind of sound that made your knees weak and your heart reckless.

I bit my lip, defiant and unashamed. "Maybe."

His veins hands glided over my flat stomach, past my pelvic bones and finally reached the gap between my legs making me gasp.

I closed my eyes, my toes curling when his fingers slipped dangerously close to my slit and I couldn't stand the tension building up.

Trying to grab onto the last thread of my life line I moaned, "J-Just... put it in."

The words came out raw. Desperate. I didn't care. I'd never wanted anyone like this. Never felt like I'd crawl out of my skin if he didn't-

But he just smirked, slow and wicked, like I'd handed him something dangerous and he fully intended to use it.

"What..?" He purred dangerously as his hand stroked dangerously close to my pussy. God, I swear he'll be the death of me.

I gasped, "Why don't you put it in. I'm all ready."

I whimpered as he kissed lower, his breath warm and devastating against my skin

"We'll see...." He rapsed and I gasped.

"Ahhh, What are you doing..?"

Before I could finish my sentence, he slid his middle finger against my wet slit.

"Aah..haa!"

He drawled, "You're wet like you said, ma bella."

"Aah..!"

Without warning, his finger slipped inside my hole and I instinctively grabbed his wrist, as he pressed against me.

My breath was sharp and frantic, like I couldn't fill my lungs enough to satisfy the burning, the need flooding my veins.

"It's a bit tight for me to fit in. Let me prepare you first." His voice was low, almost lazy, like he wasn't watching the way my whole body trembled under him.

The way my chest rose and fell in frantic rhythm. He knew.

I gasped, his middle finger was still inside me as he used his thumb to roll my swollen clit.

He scissored his fingers inside me, his thumb merciless, pressing against my sensitive spot.

My body arched upward, trembling, aching, craving.

"Please...," I begged, the words falling from me in a broken rush, "please... Don't tease me anymore."

"Stay still and take what I give you. You can't come until I tell you to, ma bella." He said in an authoritative tone.

And that was it. That was the moment where I realized-he was the one in control.

He wasn't just confident.

He was dominant.

With the way he held himself, the way his eyes tracked mine, the way his hands dictated exactly how close I could get to the edge - and how long I'd stay there.

He made me feel like I was the one asking permission.

His touch returned, his fingers probing inside mine, driving me mad. Helpless gasp that tore from my throat as he mercilessly tortured me.

Then his voice came, low and quiet, rougher than before.

"How many have you let touch you like this, ma bella?"

I froze. What?

I felt it-that flicker of tension in his jaw.

That guarded edge in his tone. Like he wasn't sure he had the right to ask. Like it came out before he could stop it. And yet... he didn't take it back.

I swallowed. My mouth was suddenly dry.

"Why does it matter to you? You don't get to ask me that." I retorted meeting his gaze with every ounce of boldness I didn't really feel.

He chuckled, "I bet they might have been pathetic, huh? Because you're so tight." He leaned against me, "If someone saw this, they'd think you're still a virgin, ma bella."

My heartbeat rose high,

"Well, can you stop talking and fuck me instead? If not, I'll go find someone else."

His whole body went still.

Like a storm right before it breaks. His eyes didn't leave mine, but the energy in the room snapped taut.

"You want someone else?" he asked, too softly. Too dangerously.

I couldn't say anything.

"You want some boy who doesn't know how to touch you? Who'll come too fast and leave you empty?"

He pressed his mouth to the corner of mine, not kissing me-just breathing me in.

"But alas, you don't get to walk away from me, ma bella." he said, his voice velvet-wrapped steel. "You don't talk about other men. Not when you're like this-naked in my bed, gasping from my touch."

I swallowed hard, but I didn't look away.

"I'm not yours," I said, even though it came out shakier than I meant it to.

Something dangerous flickered across his expression. Not rage-something deeper. Darker.

He smiled. Slowly. Wickedly.

"Not yet."

Then he dragged his knuckles down the inside of my thigh, slow, deliberate, until I gasped again-sharper this time, rawer.

"But you can pretend all you want," he whispered. "But your body already knows who it belongs to."

And the worst part?

He wasn't wrong.

"So shall we get started, ma bella."