Page 113 of Redline Baby

“Yes, please, Daddy.”

“More what?”

Oh, fuck him.

“You.”

His mouth curves.

“Sex?”

“Yes, Daddy, please.”

“Good.”

He kisses me again, and this time there’s heat behind it. We’ve already had the practical conversations. Testing. Barriers. What we’re comfortable with. What I want from him. I know what I’m saying yes to.

And I can’t fucking wait.

Soren eases me down onto the bed and takes his time with me. His hands move over my lower back, my hips, avoiding the most tender places as he traces the aftermath of the morning.

“Still okay?”

“Yes. Please, Daddy.”

His hand moves lower, and the first direct contact makes my whole body jerk. I’m so sensitive already that it feels almost unfair. One slow stroke becomes two, and I’m arching into his touch before I’ve recovered enough dignity to pretend otherwise.

“Easy,” he says, voice low and steady. “Easy, baby.”

I can’t.

I’m already close. The heat in my belly builds with humiliating speed, my hips pushing into his grip, breath coming in short bursts.

Then Soren stops.

I whimper. Actually whimper. The sound is so pathetic I would laugh if I could access any part of my brain not currently occupied by the screaming absence of his hand.

“Not yet.”

I make a wounded noise. He kisses my shoulder.

“Still want me?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me.”

“I want you to fuck me, Daddy.”

His breathing changes. Good. At least I’m not suffering alone. He reaches into the nightstand, and a moment later his hand returns to me. He guides me onto my stomach, and I go willingly, face pressing into the pillow, body already anticipating what comes next.

He takes his time preparing me, checking me as he goes, and when the pressure becomes more intense I breathe through it and push back toward him.

“Daddy.”

“I’m here.”

“Please.”