Page 61 of Filled

“You’re not running tonight.”

“No.”

“You’re not fighting.”

“No.”

“You’re going to let Daddy take care of you. Yes?”

“Yes.”

My belt. My zipper. She helps with hands that are still trembling, and when I lift her over me she’s already wet, soaking wet, the kind of wet that tells me just how badly she wants me.

“Slow.” I hold her hips. “You’re sore. Slow.”

She sinks down on me, her mouth falls open, and I forget every promise I ever made myself about boundaries with her.

“Fuck,” I breathe. “Fuck,princess.”

“Daddy—”

“I know. I’ve got you. Just like that. Take what you need.”

She rocks. Tentative at first, her hands braced on my shoulders, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. I let her set the pace until her breathing evens out and her thighs stop shaking, and then I take over.

My hands go to her hips and I lift her. Bring her back down. Set a rhythm that’s slow and deep and ruinous. Her forehead drops to mine and her breath comes in these little hitched gasps that I’m going to dream about for the rest of my life.

“That’s it. That’s my good girl.”

“Eli, I?—”

“Daddy.”

“Daddy, please.”

“Please what, sweetheart? Tell me.”

“Harder. I can take it. Please.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

I tighten my grip. The next stroke makes her whimper, and the one after that makes her bite down on my shoulder to keep from crying out. I can feel her heart pounding against my chest.

“Look at you.” My mouth is at her ear. “Took a beating tonight and still ready to take Daddy. My tough girl. My princess.” Another stroke, harder. “You know how long I’ve wanted this? How many nights I’ve watched you walk out of this gym and gone home and hated myself for what I was thinking?”

“Tell me.”

“Every night. Every fucking night, Dakota. Since the day you walked in here.”

“Me too.”

“I know.”

“I called you Daddy in the cage that day and I wanted to die.”

“I wanted to take you right there.”