King's Ransom (Ruthless Doms 3)

“Then let’s take care of that, hmm?”

Our hands meet at my waist, mine fumbling with the clasp of my jeans and hers helping push them down. They join the t-shirt and I take one quick second to give her a reassuring squeeze. When my cock springs free, she grasps it in her hand, stroking it with her eyes on mine.

“Daddy likes what he sees, hmm?” she teases. I love this side of her, all saucy and sweet and bold.

She strokes harder and faster. I can only groan in response, rocking my hips into her perfect touch. I cup her breasts and skim my thumbs over her peaked nipples. Her hips roll beneath me, and she strokes me faster.

“Stop,” I groan. “Stop, Taara.” She obeys, and I give her a smile of approval. “That’s daddy’s good little girl.”

“Oh, God, that’s so hot,” she moans. “Are we really going to do this?” she whispers. “Or am I dreaming?”

We’re locked aboard a ship with men ensnared in evil, her body still bearing the marks of my punishment on her. I dragged her from her home and brought her into the middle of danger, and she wonders if she’s the one dreaming?

“Shh, Taara,” I whisper, my finger to her lips. I fetch a condom from my wallet, her little mewl of displeasure from losing my touch making me that much harder.

“Patience, babygirl.” I come back to her and slide the condom on, kneeling beside her. “Trust me, Taara.”

A pretty little smile plays on her lips. “Yes, daddy.”

My cock twitches in response, and she bites her lip, her eyes on mine. Leaning down, I capture her wrists in one hand and secure them above her head. My voice at her ear, I whisper, “We do this in silence, little one. Understood? No more talking.”

Her eyes gleaming, she nods slowly, but mouths the words, yes, daddy. She looks at me with such adoration, such hope, I want to make every wish she holds in her heart come true. The utter trust and adoration she gives me fuels me. I can do anything when she looks at me like that. I anchor myself above her, holding onto her wrists, and line my cock up at her entrance. She bites her lip and I bend down, kissing the tension away. “Trust me,” I whisper in her ear. She parts her legs, welcoming me closer. I’ve forbidden her from speaking. This is her showing me trust.

The first stroke shakes me to the core, it’s so fucking perfect. Her tight pussy milks my cock with ease, and she moves her hips while I rock against hers. I thrust, and she moans, I press her wrists harder and her hips rise to meet me. With every stroke of my cock her lips part wider, every thrust and her mewls get more frantic. Silently, like a lover’s waltz, her hands clasped in mine with her pinned beneath me, we chase heaven.

I could come just like this, just from her hot cunt wrapped around my cock and her sweet, supple body bending to mine, but I wait, I hold on until her head falls back and her eyelids flutter closed, her lips part in a moan, and I warn her. “You ask permission before you come, little girl.”

“Please, daddy?” she whispers, and those words make my cock twitch inside her.

Fuck.

Flushed cheeks. Parted lips. Sweet, seductive moans of pleasure.

Jesus fuck.

I groan out loud, “Come, babygirl,” and when she throws her head back in climax, I lose my mind. I come so hard my vision’s blurred, I’ve lost my voice, she’s moaning and wriggling in my grasp. I groan out my own climax, rocking my hips with hers. On the tail-end of her climax she writhes again, a second spasm overtaking the first, and her voice rises in pitch. So fucking passionate. So fucking beautiful. So graceful and impassioned, I’m losing myself to this woman like I never have before.

I never let myself imagine that Taara could be mine. She is too innocent, too sweet, and way too damn young. But when I kiss her lips and touch my forehead to hers, I know.

Tarra was created for this moment. Taara was created to be mine.

I roll over and bring her to my chest. “Come here.”

She tucks her head under my chin, hikes one knee up on my legs, and drapes her arms around me as if to put every cell of our naked bodies next to one another. It isn’t until I feel dampness on my chest that I realize she’s crying. She took a whipping with my belt and didn’t shed a tear, so I wonder where this comes from.

“Baby,” I whisper. “Are you okay? What is it?”

When she looks at me, her lashes are dotted with tears like tiny diamonds. “I don’t know,” she says. “I didn’t mean to cry. It’s just… I mean, there’s no point in holding it back anymore.”