Call Me Daddy Page 4

  "Good," I panted.

  "Say it again. Properly this time."

  It took me a moment to realize what he was asking. "That sounds good, Daddy."

  Smirking, he hooked a finger into the waistband of my panties. He dragged them down my legs with excruciating slowness and carefully extricated them so they didn't catch on my heels. Then he tossed them casually over one shoulder. I squirmed as he examined me. I'd shaved in case something like this was going to happen. Men these days were so particular about what it looked like.

  "Pretty," he praised. "Pink and luscious. I'm going to taste you now."

  He placed his big hands beneath my ass and slid me to the very edge of the bench. Then his mouth was on me. His tongue licked me in one long, excruciatingly pleasant stroke. I nearly cried when he found my clit. It was throbbing, demanding my attention and his. My world narrowed to a single, electric point when he dragged his teeth across it. He kept up a relentless barrage against it until I was keening.

  "Jace. Oh my God, Jace. Oh please..."

  I wasn't even sure what I was begging for. I sure as hell didn't want him to stop. His hands slid down, and he wrapped one hand around my hip to keep me from coming completely off the bench.

  I nearly sobbed when he paused long enough to glance up my body and fix me with a chastising look.

  "Call me by my proper title, sweetheart, and I'll let you cum."

  I writhed beneath him. I was so damn close. This was more tortuous than any dream I’d ever had. I knew he could give me what I wanted. I knew he could give me what I needed.

  "What do you mean?" I'd say damn near anything at this point.

  "What do you call me, Whitney? What did we discuss?"

  My brain moved with all of the speed and efficiency of a slug. It was so hard to think. When I figured it out, I could have hit him. Was he seriously pulling this now?

  "D-daddy," I choked. "Please, Daddy, let me..."

  But Jace didn't need any further prompting. He resumed with a growl of pleasure. The vibration of his mouth on me sent me spilling over the edge, and my back bowed, forming a perfect arch. My head lolled back, and a scream escaped me. I didn't care.

  It was freaking Nirvana.

  Jace was on his feet when I finally came back to myself, panting, sweaty, and incredibly pleased.

  "My turn, baby girl," he said. Then he leaned in to kiss me. I tasted something a little sweet and very musky on his lips. "Spread your legs for me. Daddy's going to rock your socks off."

  4

  Jace

  Whitney’s eyes were huge in her face, and her skin was flushed with excitement. I couldn’t help but think that my earlier assessment had been right. She was peaches and cream, as sweet as she looked and damned tempting when laid out like this before me.

  I ran a hand along her skin, and she bucked into my touch. I hummed in approval. “So responsive. That'll be fun later, baby girl.”

  Her face was slack with pleasure. She was staring up at me in wonder. "That was..."

  She seemed lost for words. Quite a feat, considering she was one of the most chatty women I’d ever seen. I would enjoy rendering her speechless in other ways too.

  I chuckled. “Was that your first orgasm?”

  Her mouth opened, and I could see the gears turning behind those bright baby blues. She was going to lie to me. She’d already told me she wasn’t a virgin, and I’d found that a lot of women were embarrassed to admit when they couldn’t achieve orgasm with a partner or had chosen ones who didn’t care enough to see that they had one.

  If she lied, I would need to punish her. So I claimed her lips with my own again, pushing past her feeble resistance to plunder her mouth with my tongue. To her credit, she did at least try to kiss back. Inexpertly. Though she was short a hymen, that didn’t mean she wasn’t a sexual novice.

  This discovery excited a part of me that craved dominance and control. If she was inexperienced, it meant we’d be exploring her limits together.

  She gave my mouth a hard nip that sent electricity humming over my skin. I bit back harder, pulling her lip between my teeth until she whimpered and arched into me. Her hips gave little yearning rolls, and I could feel that she was more than ready for me.

  Slowly and with deliberate care, I unbuttoned my trousers, pulled them down, and stepped out of them, retrieving a condom from the pocket before I did so. She seemed surprised when she saw that I’d neglected to put on any underwear. Then she chuckled.

  “Do you always go commando, or was this just for my benefit?”

  "Always."

  I peeled on the condom and then crawled over her, bracing my hands on either side of her head carefully, so I wouldn't catch some of her hair beneath my palms. I'd have to make sure she kept it up when she was in the playroom. Pigtails would look amazing on her, and if she paired that hairstyle with a schoolgirl skirt...

  I became impossibly harder at the thought of that image. I kissed her deep and hard, claiming her mouth as I guided myself toward her entrance and thrust into her in one languid stroke. Her entire body bowed again, and I broke away from her with a gasp. She was so damn tight. Either she did a lot of exercises, or she wasn't as experienced as she'd led me to believe. I rolled my hips into hers once, experimentally, watching her face.

  "Do you want me to stop?"

  "If you stop, I'll kill you," she panted. I hid a smirk.

  I thrust shallowly, and her walls clenched around me, drawing my cock in deeper. I grit my teeth. It would be so easy to piston into her hard and fast, taking what I wanted. She was primed and ready for another orgasm. Still, it wouldn't do for me to be that careless.

  Whitney’s damage centered around the intention of others, so I’d have to be sure that she never felt that here, with me.

  I seized the back of her neck in one hand and fisted my hand in her hair, keeping her where I wanted her even as I drove my length into her again. She squirmed against me, making an appealing whine in the back of her throat.

  "Look at me, baby girl. I want to see your face when you cum again."

  Whitney's eyes fluttered open, and she speared me with a gaze that was full of wonder, excitement, and a little bit of impatience.

  "Faster, please. I want to feel more."

  "Ask nicely."

  Her mouth popped open, and her pink, little tongue darted out to touch her lips. I wanted to taste her again. She intoxicated every sense I had and captured me in a way that no one else had in years. Being with her could quickly become an obsession if I wasn't careful.

  Whitney wasn't used to asking for what she wanted. When you were as obscenely wealthy as the Farbridge family was, no one called you on your bullshit if you weren't polite. She was going to have to learn manners.

  I stilled completely inside her, though every nerve ending in my body screamed at me to keep going, take my pleasure, and leave the lesson until tomorrow.

  "Ask nicely," I repeated, digging the fingers of my free hand into her hip when she tried to squirm against me to get friction. "You will say please when you want something and thank you if I deign to give it to you."

  Her jaw flexed stubbornly. "You won't get to cum if you just stop."

  I chuckled, and the low throaty sound made goosebumps erupt all over Whitney's skin. I trailed my hands up her body to cup one of her breasts, still covered by a thin layer of black lace.

  "You think not? I could come all over these instead. Or use that fuckable little mouth of yours to get myself off. I don't have to do it this way, Whitney. Say please and thank you like a good little girl, and I won't have to deprive you of my cock."

  My throbbing erection pulsed once inside her, almost as a reminder. Her walls clenched around me in reaction to my words. Someone had a serious discipline fetish. That was good to know.

  "Please," she whispered. "Please, go faster. I want more of you."

  I pulled back from her just long enough to flip her position so that she lay face down on the bench. Her perfectly rounded a
ss pressed against me, and I leaned over her back to whisper into her ear.

  "Grab the bench leg with one hand, baby girl."

  She did as instructed with almost no hesitation. I guided her free hand between her legs and pressed her fingers to her throbbing clit.

  "Touch yourself here," I instructed. "Little circles at first. Then whatever feels good to you after that." She nearly sobbed in relief as I pushed back into her hard. I gripped her hips with both hands, setting a pace that was steady and driving. Her walls were already fluttering around me, and she made enticing little gasps as her soft fingers danced over her clit.

  She kept up an almost incessant litany of "Oh my god, oh my God, oh my God!"

  It didn't take long until she was climaxing again, and once that happened, I couldn’t help myself. I came with a groan, burying myself up to the hilt in her warm, silken heat as she spasmed around me, screaming my name, just like I’d said she would. Her nails bit crescents into my arms, but I didn’t care. I could take about as much pain as I could dish out, and the sensation of her nails in my biceps was lost amid my thunderous orgasm.

  Fuck. I hadn’t come like this in a while.

  Whitney sagged bonelessly against the bench, making a soft, contented sound. I smoothed her hair back from her forehead and placed a tender kiss on her temple. When I'd sufficiently recovered and was confident I could stand, I gathered Whitney up into my arms and carried her to the bed that was pressed against the wall of the playroom. We'd be able to enjoy the cuffs I had attached to the bedposts at a later date. For now, she needed time to recover and to think my offer over.

  Her eyes fluttered closed the moment her head hit the pillow. I draped the heavy duvet over her shoulders. She reached out weakly and grabbed my wrist.

  "Stay?"

  I paused. "...I can't. There are preparations I need to make, Whitney. I can't fall asleep here."

  "Please?" she begged, peering up through her lashes at me. "At least until I fall asleep?"

  There was something incredibly vulnerable in the request. There was no flippancy or games here. It was an honest request. I couldn't reward that with a rebuff. So I sat down on the edge of the bed, smoothed a hand over her rumpled hair, and hummed a soft lullaby, waiting for her breathing to even out.

  Whitney let out a shuddering sigh and was asleep in minutes.

  I crept quietly toward the door, glancing back once to see her curled up small and vulnerable in the corner of the playroom, right where I wanted her. A small smile curled the edges of my mouth.

  "Good girl, Whitney. Good girl."

  Whitney balked at the list of rules I slid across the table to her the next morning. She stared at the piece of paper, a sweet roll halfway to her mouth. Her grip on her morning mug of Café con leche tightened until I was sure she was about to snap the handle off.

  "What's this?"

  "Rules. You said you wanted to do this. I'm laying out our ground rules."

  She set the roll down and picked up the paper like it had something obscene written on the front. "Rule number one just says, ‘Get a Job.’"

  I took a bite of my own sweet roll and chewed, waiting for the inevitable explosion. I didn't have to wait long.

  "What the hell does that mean? You want me to work at Burger King or something?"

  A chuckle escaped me before I could stop it. The thought of Whitney Farbridge stooping to something as common as food service was absurd. "No, not a chain restaurant. I have a personal assistant slot available at McCarthy Manufacturing, and I am going to have you fill it."

  "Why? Why are you doing this to me? You said you'd help me!"

  "I am helping you. I'm helping you grow the fuck up, Whitney. That has been your problem this whole time. No one has ever taught you how to be an adult, so it's up to me. The first stipulation of our contract will be that you hold down a steady job for a month. You clock in on time. You call if you are going to be late for any reason. You dress appropriately. I pay my PAs twenty-five an hour. At the end of the month, you should have several thousand dollars with which to buy your brother a gift."

  Whitney glared at the page again.

  "’In private, always address the dominant as Daddy.’" She folded her arms over her chest. "You into little girls?"

  "Age play isn't really my kink, no. I enjoy the term because it conveys all that I can be to you. Safety. Encouragement. A confidant and a provider. A firm disciplinarian if you need it. I don't generally enjoy pretending my partner is any younger than sixteen."

  She pursed her lips. "’Always be honest. Lying will result in a huge punishment.’"

  "I don't really think that requires an explanation, do you? Lying is rude, and it hinders the process.”

  “‘You are to be polite. Say please and thank you when making or answering requests. Always inform the dominant where you are or will be going before leaving a room.’”

  “Part of growing the fuck up,” I said, taking a sip from my mug. “You need to learn manners.”

  A vein in her forehead twitched at that, and I could tell that rule four was going to be an issue with Whitney. Unsurprising, even if it was possibly the easiest to follow. No matter. If taming Whitney Farbridge was such an easy task, I wouldn’t have taken it on.

  “So I have to ask you any time I want to leave the house?”

  “It is easier to keep you safe and honest if I know where you are. And I’ll add a stipulation that isn’t on there at the moment. No parties. I don’t want you tempted into bad habits.”

  The vein in her forehead began to throb harder, and the color was high in her cheeks now. “That’s a lot of crap, you know that, Daddy?”

  The clear derision in her tone chafed a bit, but I chose to ignore it for the moment. We needed to get through the rules, and she hadn’t even gotten to her safety protocol yet.

  “Keep reading.”

  “‘Your safeword will be Pause?’” She made it a question, quirking a carefully plucked brow at me.

  “Use it only when you feel unsafe or cannot handle what I am doing to you. Next.”

  Whitney scowled at the page. “‘No driving?’”

  My heart twisted painfully in my chest. That was a Whitney-specific addition. It was probably one I should have put in for April’s protection as well. If I had...well, if I had, I was unlikely to be talking to the stubborn Miss Farbridge, wasn’t I?

  “It’s non-negotiable. I will send you with a driver, or you can take a ride-sharing service. But I do not want you in the driver’s seat under any circumstances. Next objection.”

  "’Do not cum unless given permission to do so,’" she drawled.

  "While you are my submissive, your body is mine. If you pleasure yourself without me, you are denying me that access to your body and violating the spirit of our agreement at the same time. It will result in discipline."

  Anger flashed in Whitney's eyes. "I don't need a fucking job. I don’t need a fucking driver, and I don't want your stupid rules. Can't you just paddle me and be done with it?"

  "You will take the job, or we have no deal. I'll turn you out and give you a thousand dollars. You can pray that your poor impulse control doesn't send you running to the nearest shop to spend it."

  Whitney pushed away from the table so hard and so fast that her chair squealed against the hardwood floor. She wadded the paper up into a ball and threw it across the table.

  It hit the side of my face and bounced to the carpet between us. Cold rage slammed through my veins, and I was on my feet in the next second, crossing the distance between us.

  My arm locked like a vice around Whitney's waist, and I drew her into my chest. She impacted hard, her arms trapped between our bodies. Her body shook like a leaf. She was aware of just how badly she'd fucked up. Good.

  "Throw something at me again, and I'll spank you so hard you'll sleep standing up for a week."

  I glanced down at her and found her staring at me with wide eyes. Her momentary anger was gone, replaced by the very real
fear of the punishment she knew she deserved for doing it.

  "I'm sorry, Daddy," she whispered. "I didn't mean--"

  "The rules said no lying," I snarled into her ear. "Try again. Explain to me why you insisted on being a brat, and I won't toss you out on your ass."

  Whitney's trembling increased, and tears stung her eyes. "You were mean. You looked at me just like everyone else. Poor Whitney. Can't do anything right. I thought you were different."

  "I am different. Adhere to my rules, and I'll show you just how different life can be. My rules are here for your protection, your betterment, and my pleasure. Do you understand?"

  Whitney jerked her head once in a nod as her tears spilled over. "Sorry."

  I released her, and she stumbled back a step before regaining her balance. She looked much younger than her twenty-six years when she was dressed in one of my oversized dress shirts, her panties, and not much else.

  I resumed my seat. "Over my knee, Whitney."

  She hesitated for a moment before doing as she was told, draping her long, lithe body over the sturdy strength of my thighs. The lacey black underpants barely covered her ass cheeks. I still slid them down to mid-thigh before running my hand over her warm, creamy backside. She tensed in anticipation of the coming punishment. My cock stirred to life as she squirmed a little.

  "Ten for your first infraction. Count them."

  I brought my hand down without warning, and the sound of the smack echoed through the dining hall. Whitney let out a sharp cry of pain.

  "O-one."

  I brought my palm down again, this time on the opposite cheek. She flinched and cried out again. A perfect pink handprint was visible on her ass. My cock strained at my zipper.

  "Two."

  Whitney gripped the arm of the chair, and her rolling hips felt like heaven against my arousal. I brought my hand down and struck harder than before. She actually let out a choked cry of pain.

  So it went, and with every passing blow, I could feel her arousal grow. My trousers were definitely going to need to see a dry cleaner soon, but I didn't really care.