Earning Her Keep (Price of Love)

“Who?” I rake my nails down her back, loving her high-pitched scream. “Who am I?”

“Daddy. You’re my Daddy.”

I crave her cum on my cock. I need it. I have to have it. I reach around and find her clit, rubbing and teasing and pinching that hot little nub. She can hardly stand it. She sobs like it’s too much, too fucking much, but she doesn’t have a fucking choice. “Fight me all you want. You don’t stand a fucking chance.”

She gasps. Her body curves, her shoulders drop. I know I’m an asshole and I fucking roll with it. I spank her ass. Hard. She clenches my dick so ferociously in response that I almost shoot my load into her before I’m ready.

“Fuck you, you little slut. Don’t you dare. You first. Then me. Let me fucking feel you. Right now.”

She’s fucking soaked now, all that virgin blood and slick wetness all over between us, making us slick and sticky at the same time. Her breath changes, becoming more jagged and uneven. Grunting out her exhales and hissing on her inhales. And I know she’s about to cum with me.

For me.

On me.

With me.

I pull her hair back with my free hand and kiss the exposed line of her throat. She screams against my ear, and I absolutely fucking die as she starts to cum on my dick. A hard, intense, nasty little orgasm that would’ve made someone call the cops if we were anywhere that we could be heard.

When she’s fucking wrecking herself with pleasure, body tight, screaming my name, then I let go. Into her. For her. With her.

Goddamn.

I force her face down onto the pillows and the rug. I ram her harder, harder, fucking harder, pounding her into the depths of submission.

My balls tighten and my cum shoots from my cock, filling her up and spilling out from between her folds.

The release of that pressure from my dick is pleasure like I have never known.

Mine. All fucking mine.

CHAPTER 8

Primrose

Everything is sparkling, tingling, spinning. He slowly pulls out of me, slow enough to groan an ache of longing as he leaves. Rough and strong, he flips me back over onto my back, caging me in against the silk pillows, the fancy carpet.

He looks down at me, greedy and intense. Then he pinches my cheeks, gritting his teeth, and kisses me. “Fuck. Fuck, baby…”

He makes me feel like I’m magic. I run my fingertips down his jawline, his shoulder, his broad and muscular chest. Every muscle like concrete. I don’t understand why I love the way he is so much; I don’t know why the roughness makes me so crazy with desire. But it does. Like matches and gasoline.

He sits back on his knees, laying his half-hard cock on my thigh. He’s still panting with the exertion of taking me, of making me his.

“Clean that up for me, baby.”

I tangle my hair into a messy bun at the nape of my neck and roll toward him, cleaning up the soft skin of his amazing cock with my tongue. I taste so many things there. My wetness. His cum. My blood. Sweet and salty and metallic. It tastes amazing. My eyes flutter shut as I savor every last smudge.

His cock starts to harden to full length again as I clean him. But before I can get much further, he stops me. Pushes me back on the pillows. He shakes his head. “Greedy. But you need rest.”

He’s so right. I’m exhausted. I blink a few times, feeling almost dazed and dizzy.

“You okay?” he asks.

I nod up at him. “Yes. Perfect.” I shift my hips to get comfy and it makes me wince. “Sore, though.”

He growls out a moan of pleasure. “Damned right.”

He leans down, placing a gentle kiss to my lips. And then all at once he scoops me up in the blanket and carries me down the hall toward his bedroom on a low chuckle.

His embrace is everything. Being in his arms is all I never knew I wanted. Rough and sweet. Tough and kind.

I’m in love already.

He sets me down on the pretty sofa that sits on the far side of the bathroom suite and draws a bath for me in his big, jetted tub. The lights are low, the music is on, it’s heaven. But I can only think of that one word.

Love.

Because what am I going to do if it’s real? What will I do if this feeling, this wave of emotion, doesn’t go away?

This is all just fantasy. I’m not Emily. I’m not even Primrose anymore.

I don’t know who I am and I really don’t know who he is either.

Things feel like they are unraveling, but I shake my head, telling myself it’s just the adrenaline wearing off. The fall from the peak.

I watch him drizzle bubble bath into the water, and it foams up marvelously. He tests the water temperature, unsatisfied. A little colder. Now a little hotter. Making it perfect for me.