Always My Babygirl: A Billionaire Romance

“No, but we could move out there.” The idea is out of my mouth before I even decide it's an option.

Her jaw drops open. “Gabriel, are you… serious?”

I shrug. “Why not? We can buy a home out there.”

Stop, my conscience tells me, reminding me not to push too hard. But I’ve never been one that did anything half-assed. When I’m all in, I’m all fucking in.

She shakes her head. “As much as I appreciate your… chivalry,” she begins hesitantly, as if she’s not sure that’s the right word in this context. “That seems a bit drastic. I mean… we hardly know each other.”

Not true. I know everything about her.

She draws in a deep breath. She’s wound up, I can tell. Even after the champagne, even with the reminder of her submission to me deeply embedded between her cheeks, while she’s nestled on my lap, she’s like a bow string ready to snap.

I bring my hand to her neck and gently massage. She closes her eyes and sighs.

“There, baby. Relax. Let daddy help you with this.”

“It’s so much, though.”

“But this is what I like, Miranda. I like taking care of you. I like helping you bear some of your burdens.”

She shakes her head but then melts into me as I continue to massage her neck. “I feel like you’re seducing me, sir.”

I chuckle. “Excellent. Because that’s precisely what I’m trying to do.”

She rests her head against me, and I gently brush a thumb over her breasts. I can feel her nipples pebble right through the fabric. I glance around the room and see that we’re alone now.

I lean in and whisper in her ear, “We’re all alone here, baby. And you’ve been a very good girl for daddy. I know how to get you to relax.”

Her eyes flutter open and she looks at me in surprise. “No way.”

I cluck my tongue. “Are you saying no to daddy? If you do, daddy will have to whip your little bottom right here, and anyone who came in would see what happens to little girls who disobey their daddies.”

My cock aches at the mere thought, and a part of me almost hopes she does defy me.

She nods slowly. “Okay, daddy. I… I trust you.” I can see how much it takes for her to say that, for her to get to this point.

“Good girl,” I whisper. “That’s daddy’s very good girl. Gently spread your legs for daddy.”

She obeys. I take the hem of her dress and slide my hand beneath it, my heart thudding in my chest at the feel of her warm thighs, and the sweet, alluring scent of her arousal.

I bend and kiss her neck as I stroke my finger over her clit. No panties, just like I asked. She moans as I circle her tight bundle of nerves, her legs parting further.

“You don’t seem too troubled by anyone walking in on us now, baby,” I tease, and she giggles.

“Let them,” she says. “I might die if you don’t let me come.”

I suckle her neck and stroke her clit, then finger her hot, wet entrance. I glide my moistened fingertip over her clit again, as I kiss and bite her neck, her ears, her collarbone, until her hips rise and her breathing hitches.

I take my thumb and put gentle pressure on her plug. “Come, baby, come for daddy, or daddy will punish you. Come on daddy’s fingers.”

She flies into ecstasy, her pussy tightening around me as I plunge them in her core before stroking her clit. Her head falls back as pleasure envelops her. I work her through her orgasm, my own cock aching for release at the feel of her climaxing.

She whimpers when she finally settles into me, and sighs. “My God, daddy,” she says, one arm draped over my shoulder. “That was amazing. So… oh my God, so intense. Having that plug in me somehow made it tighter. Better.”

I lean down and kiss her, tasting champagne and the sweet essence of my girl.

“I’m glad. That pleases me, babygirl. I can’t wait to give you even more of what you’ve earned later tonight.”

“We have to get back,” she whispers. “They’ll miss us.”

“They will.”

But even after her orgasm, I can see she’s preoccupied, worrying about home. Sad to leave our private room, I take her back to the ballroom and to Darius and Katie. “Stay here a minute,” I tell her. “Let me speak to Shane.”

The mention of Shane’s name brings back that same apprehension, it's written on her features, but after a few seconds of reflection, she nods. I raise my hand to Shane, who comes straight to me. Women all around us watch as he walks over to me. Dark hair. Dark eyes. Olive skin. He’s a former model himself, but gave it up over a decade ago. He’s the best assistant a guy could ask for.