Always My Babygirl: A Billionaire Romance

What does he want? A blow job? A hand job? Seems impossible from the position he’s got me in.

Think, boss lady. What does this man want from you the most?

Billionaire. Type-A. In control.

Submission. He wants me to submit to him. He wants me to ask for it.

I barely recognize my own voice as it comes out in a mousy squeak. “You want me to… ask you to spank me?”

His hand slides over my ass, increasing the goosebumps on my tingling skin by twofold. “Good girl. You’re a fast learner. When daddy tells you to do something, like touch your pretty pussy, I expect you to obey. If you disobey, you need to be punished. Now, ask daddy for what you need.”

My face flames, matching the burning heat growing between my thighs. My throat tight, I swallow back my fears. “Please. Spank me.”

His hand lifts. My breath catches in my throat as he pauses, and I imagine his hand hovering over me. His hand comes down, hard and stinging on my ass. Harder than I expected.

It fucking hurts.

He pulls me from my thoughts with icy words. “Did you forget something?”

The sting spreads on my ass. He waits. I know what he wants to hear. My tongue swells in my mouth. My chest tightens.

I can’t do it.

But… I kinda want to.

I squeeze my eyes shut tight. Take in a breath. And say the words I’ve longed to say, just never had the right man to say them to.

“Please, spank me. Daddy.”

With those words, my whole world becomes brighter, more vivid, full color. I’m not only asking him for what I need, what I’ve secretly been craving all these years.

I’m finally being honest with myself.

Running a daddy escort service isn’t just a business to me but an unfulfilled dream. Deep down, past all the lies I tell myself, I know there is a hidden truth that I can no longer deny.

I want a daddy of my own. To love me… spoil me when I’m good. Spank me when I’m bad. To take care of me. To help me take care of myself.

His hand comes down again. Harder this time. The stinging burn spreads across my skin. I take in a sharp breath, pulling the air between my teeth.

He spanks again. And again. And again.

The warmth turns to fire. The prickling sting to pain. For a split second, I wonder, have I gotten this all wrong? Is this really what I want?

But then he’s back with his firm palm. His chastising words. Spanking me with steady, smarting smacks as he speaks. “Naughty, naughty girl. Having to go over her daddy’s lap like this for not listening.” He pauses, massaging the tender, heated skin, and his words are like melted caramel. “Do you think you can be good now? Do you think you can do what daddy says?”

What did he even want me to do in the first place? Why did he decide to spank me? I remember the feeling of taking off my clothes. Standing before him bare. His commanding words.

I want you to touch yourself. Now. “Touch myself?”

He strokes my punished flesh, making the tingling move from my ass to between my legs. He leans down, his words dirty and shocking as they tickle my ear. “Or do you need your daddy to do it for you?”

Yes. Yep. A-ha. That.

Relief and desire overwhelm me. “Please, daddy. Touch me.”

Who am I?

He gives my ass another hard slap. “Spread your legs, little girl.”

I obey, my right leg sliding all the way across his lap, dangling on the edge of his knee.

His fingers make their way, marching a line up my inner thigh. He cups my ass with his palm. Presses his fingertip against the slick entrance of my pussy. “Ask again. Ask for exactly what you want.”

Can I do it? Can I say the filthy words that rest on the tip of my tongue, begging to be freed? “Finger me, daddy. Make me come.”

He pushes a finger inside of me, my body stretching to accommodate. I let out a low moan. He gathers my arousal, slides out. Using the pad of his slick finger, he circles my aching bud.

It’s unbelievable. Melting my limbs. Making me even wetter. “Oh, more. Please more. Touch me there.” A little voice in the back of my mind reminds me that my job tonight is to please him, not to get off, but I can’t seem to stop my hips from rocking.

His finger slides over my clit, offering the gentlest of pressures.

My fingernails dig into the sofa as I moan. “Give me more. Please, daddy. Give me more.”

He lets out a deep chuckle, but my shame knows no bounds. I just need his touch, that magical friction his hand can offer me. I don’t care what I have to say to get it.