Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 33279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
My face heats. He could?
He has access to my chest in this position, and he takes full advantage of that fact, reaching out to tweak my nipples.
I moan and tip my head back. I never knew before I embarked on this new life, but apparently my nipples are very sensitive and…needy. I love the way they brush against my shirts. I haven’t worn a bra since I got here, and that keeps them hard and greedy.
I don’t think I’ve ever been as turned on as I am right now, restrained to this chair, my breasts thrust forward, Daddy now thumbing the tips. I moan unabashedly, no longer trying to hide it. I squirm and writhe in the seat. I don’t want breakfast. I want Theo to make me come.
He’s seen all of me, and he’s promised to see me even more when he gives me a bath. I’ve seen none of him. He hasn’t even taken off his shirt around me. “Daddy…”
He releases my breasts, leaving me desperate and panting. I nearly cry from the frustration.
As if he’s unaffected by my plight, he picks up my plate and offers me a bite of something. I can’t even see what it is because my vision is blurry. My mouth isn’t accepting commands from my brain, so I turn my head. I’m not trying to be defiant; I simply can’t accept a bite of food yet.
Daddy puts the food down and scoots closer to me. He sets his palms on my arms and rubs them. “Look at me, Baby girl.”
I take a deep breath and face him. “I’m not trying to be naughty.”
He smiles. “I know.”
I’m breathing heavily.
He stares at me. “Let me tell you something.”
I bite my lip.
“I’m head over heels for you, Layla. I have been since I watched you crash onto the concrete. My heart was already yours in that instant. It doesn’t matter that it’s not logical. It’s simply a fact. Love at first sight, I guess.” He grins.
I can’t respond. He’s not really telling me anything he hasn’t already said before, but he’s so intense. He wants me to hear him.
“I know it’s a lot. I’m a lot. I’m possessive and dominant and intense. I’ve crawled up into your space, literally and figuratively. I can’t stand it when I’m not touching you. I want to own you in every way. I want you to trust me so badly it feels like a painful hole in my chest.”
I can’t breathe.
“I know you need time. I get that, and I’ll give it to you. I’ll give you the moon and the stars. I’ve come on very strong, and I’ve been hard on you. I’ve made you experience things you had no idea you craved, but I know you do. You crave my particular brand of attention. You like it when I push your boundaries. Your cheeks flush and your pulse picks up when I push my finger into your bottom or hold you down and torment your tiny urethra. You enjoy the naughty taboo nature of what I do as much as I enjoy giving it to you.”
I can’t even blink. He’s right, but how do I admit to that?
“You’re mine, Baby girl. Mine to hold and cherish. Mine to punish and discipline. Every inch of you is mine. You’ll do as you’re told because your need to submit to me perfectly matches my need to dominate you. Does that make sense, Layla?”
His last question is genuine, and I find myself nodding. Somehow I know he’s right.
“You’re scared because you don’t trust me to stay and be the man you want so desperately. It’s not personal. It’s just hard to trust another human being with your soul.”
How does he read me so well?
“When I dominate you, it reminds you how much I care. You crave it because it reinforces my feelings for you and chases away the doubts. I will give you that, Baby girl, every day for the rest of your life. I will diaper you when I please because you like how it feels to so deeply submit to me. I will force you to use your diaper because wearing it isn’t enough, is it?”
I swallow hard.
He stares at me, waiting. His gaze reaches into my soul. He can read me as though he’s inside my head.
“No, Sir,” I murmur. I can’t lie to him. I’ll never be able to lie to him.
“Good girl. I know it’s hard to tell me what you want and need, but I already know the answers. Tell me why you’re so scared, Little one.”
My chest seems to rise and fall with exaggeration. My mouth is dry. “I’m not used to having someone care,” I admit. “I have friends, but those relationships are superficial in a way. They aren’t deep.”
“Tell me about your childhood.”