Page 133 of Hunt Me, Daddy

He looked up at me. “What do you need,solnyshko?”

“You,” I whispered. “I need you.”

He lowered his head. His mouth found the inside of my thigh, and I stopped thinking about seventeen things simultaneously, which was a personal record. He worked his way up with the thoroughness he applied to everything, unhurried, mapping the territory with his lips and the edge of his teeth and the flat of histongue, and I was gripping the sheet before he had even reached the center of me because the anticipation alone was a specific kind of undoing. When his mouth finally found my clit, I made a sound I was not going to be documenting in any file.

He didn’t acknowledge it.

He simply kept going with the full and patient attention of a man who had decided this was the next thing and was going to do it correctly. His hands held my thighs open, not roughly, just absolutely, and he worked me with his tongue in long, very intentional strokes and shorter, more precise ones that made my hips buck against his hands. I found his hair with my fingers and held on for dear life. He did not stop, slow, or break rhythm and I appreciated that more than I had words for in the moment. My pleasure grew and grew until I was so close to the edge that I could almost taste it and then I was coming.

The first orgasm rolled through me in a long, tight wave and I said something that wasn’t quite his name and wasn’t quite coherent, gripped his hair tighter, and he held me through it without stopping.

I was still catching my breath when his tongue found me again.

“Ivan—”

“Once more,” he said against me.

“I can’t?—”

He slid two fingers inside me, slowly, crooking forward with intent, and every coherent objection I had immediately resigned and went home.

“Kit.”

Just my name.

His fingers and his tongue moved and I stopped managing what sounds I was making entirely. In no time at all, my second climax hit hard, a more intense and immediate wave than the first, my back arching off the bed, his name coming out of me in a way that left no ambiguity about what was happening. He kept his fingers moving through it and worked me past the peak and the aftershock, until I was pulling at his shoulder because I needed him to stop or I was going to lose control and come a third time and I didn’t know what to do with that.

He looked up.

His mouth was wet and his eyes were very dark, and his expression had the specific quality of a man who had already decided something and was not going to be talked out of it.

I didn’t try.

I reached for him and pulled him up the length of my body and he came, settling his weight over me in a way that was the most natural and devastating thing I had experienced in recent memory. He was hard against me, and I shifted to feel it and heard the slight change in his breathing that told me his control was not quite as absolute as he made it look.

Good.

Mine wasn’t either.

“Please,” I said.

The word came out plain. Unironic. None of my usual architecture around wanting things.

He stilled.

His eyes met mine.

“Please what.”

His voice was quiet. Certain.

I looked at him. I thought about the crossword. The pen. The bath at exactly the right temperature. How he had sat at his desk and built me a weapon while I slept in his bed. The way he had not stepped between me and his brothers because he’d understood it would have cost me the thing I was trying to prove.

“I need you,” I said. “Please fuck me, Daddy.”

He shifted, settling between my thighs, the tip of his cock nudging at my entrance.

“Daddy will give you what you need.”