Page 53 of Ruthless Daddy
I put my hand back between her legs, slow, and started over. I teased her clit, barely touching at all, then fingered her shallow,then deep, back and forth until she was gasping, shaking, her hips grinding down like she needed it more than air.
She opened her eyes, met my gaze, and said, “I need to come. Please.”
I said, “Come for me, Angela. Now.”
She came so had she bit my shoulder, the noise muffled by my shirt. Her whole body went rigid in my lap—legs locked around my hips, arms gripping my shoulders, head thrown back. She didn’t breathe for a full second, then let out this broken, wild sob I’d never heard from her before.
I held her. I pressed my cheek to her head and held on, didn’t let her go.
When it passed, she slumped against me, every bone gone soft. Her face was flushed, eyes glassy, pupils blown wide. She stared at the ceiling for a second, then looked at me and started to laugh. It was a real laugh—quiet, shaky, but full of something that made my chest ache.
She said, “Fuck,” and put her hand over her face.
I kissed her, hard, tasting the sweat on her skin, the salt of her tears maybe, and she kissed me back, mouth open and hungry. She reached for my belt, one hand shaky but determined, pulling at the buckle.
I caught her wrist, held it in place. “Not yet.”
She looked at me, confused, still high from the come. “What?”
I said, “I want you, too. But you have to earn it. When you trust me, when you’re ready, then I’ll fuck you. Then you’ll be mine.”
She scowled, for real, bottom lip out like a kid denied a treat. “But—”
“No,” I told her. “Not until I say.”
She let go of the belt, slumped against me, and went silent for a full minute. I stroked her hair, gentle now, the way I’d wanted to since the day in the safe house. She pressed her face into my chest and just breathed.
She said, completely quiet, “You’re not going to let me win, are you?”
“There’s more than one way to win,” I said.
She smiled at that. It was small, soft, but real.
I shifted her in my lap, tucking the blanket around us, and just held her. She curled up, arms around my waist, her whole body melting into mine.
She was asleep in five minutes. Out cold, mouth open, drooling onto the sleeve of my shirt like she’d never fallen asleep safe in her life.
I sat there for a long time, just feeling her weight, the warmth of her, the way it felt to be needed this much.
When I finally laid her in the bed and went back to the couch, my hand still smelled like her. My lips did, too.
I didn’t sleep. I just replayed it, every second, every sound, every shudder. I knew tomorrow would be worse. I knew she’d test me again. I wanted it. I wanted every second of it.
She was going to break me, and I was going to let her.
Chapter 10
Angela
Iwasgettingsousedto being in here that I had started to recognize the way the light looked at different times of day.
There was a way the light came in at ten a.m. that made the apartment look clean, even though it was not. Even though, if you ran your finger along the inside of the kitchen cabinet, you’d get a little fur of white dust, the kind that came from too many wipes and not enough actual dirt to justify it. The city outside looked colder than it was—glass and steel and the flat glare of winter sun. I was alone in the kitchen. Pietro was in the other room on operational calls, voice low and precise, the rhythm of his words as steady as the clock on the oven.
It was day three. I had been good for seventy-two hours. So good. Such a terribly, dreadfully, perfectly good girl.
I made coffee. Drank it black. I had two eggs, microwaved, the quickest way I knew to make them. The contract was a living thing inside me now—every rule, every check-in, every soft prompt from his side of the table. I didn’t even have to look atthe list anymore. I was running the routine like I had done it forever.
I wanted to check the perimeter. I wanted to sweep the apartment, check every window for a new angle, see if the tape over the peep hole had shifted even a millimeter. But we’d spoken yesterday. Daddy had asked me not to carry out any self-initiated security rounds. I was supposed to trust him to keep the world from getting in. I was supposed to be present.
