Page 13 of Daddy's Claim
“Have it your way,” Michael said, gripping my hips and positioning his cock at my soaked entrance. “You can ride, princess, but you won’t come.”
Whatever. Resisting the urge to roll my eyes, I lowered myself onto him, letting out a little hiss of pain as he stretchedme beyond what was comfortable. Apparently everything on Michael DeCosta was huge, and I struggled to accommodate him.
By the time I’d taken all of him, every nerve in my body felt scraped raw. Rolling my hips experimentally, I moaned softly, telling myself it was all for show, and let my head fall back as I rode. His teeth scraped across the exposed column of my throat again and I whimpered at the flash of pleasure and pain.
And then he touched me.
The rough pad of his thumb brushed across my clit, just enough to tease me with the pleasure I’d chosen to forsake in favor of staying in control. Every gentle, teasing touch tightened my core, and the rise and fall of my hips became more frantic as I sought the pleasure he was deliberately keeping just out of reach.
A whine escaped before I thought to control it and he chuckled. “What’s wrong, princess? Do you want to come?”
“Yes. Fuck!” No matter how fast or hard I rode him, I couldn’t seem to push myself over that edge, and despite my earlier train of thought, the idea of waiting for “later” suddenly seemed impossible.
“Too bad you weren’t a good girl, huh?”
His voice dripped condescension. It should have humiliated me, at the very least pissed me off. But for some fucked up reason, it just ratcheted my need even higher.
“You could have earned yourself that orgasm, but you chose to be naughty, instead.”
“I just wanted to please you,” I lied. The whiny, pleading tone wasn’t fake, though. I’d already begun to accept that I’d grossly miscalculated the things this man could do to me.
“No, you wanted to be in control.”
Rolling, he pinned me beneath him on the bed, and I cried out as he drove into me. His hips were angled just right to hitthat perfect spot inside of me, pushing me closer to the edge, but still not enough to give me what I wanted. The flood of sensation with every pull and thrust of him inside of me nearly made me weep. “Oh, God. Please.”
“Please what, princess? Tell me what you want.”
Biting my lip against the words that threatened to tumble free, I shook my head. I’d never begged a man for an orgasm in my life. I’d never begged for anything, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to start now.
“Stubborn brat,” he growled, slamming into me again. “Have it your way.”
Frustration built with every movement of his cock inside of me, until every nerve ending in my body was on fire, aching for relief. Whatever he was doing, whatever dick magic he was using, it was working in ways I’d never experienced before.
“Please.” The plea was ripped from my throat when I couldn’t take another second of his torment. “Michael, please. Make me come, I’ll do whatever you want, just fucking let me come!”
A wicked, knowing grin spread across his face and he shifted so he could move a hand between us. “Since you begged so nicely. Come for me, princess.”
Somewhere in the back of my mind, the humiliation of begging for pleasure registered, but I couldn’t summon the energy to care. Nothing in that moment mattered but the almost painful need bursting inside of me.
With a final, punishing thrust, Michael’s cock jerked inside of me, and a moment later he collapsed onto the bed beside me, somehow managing to not crush me in the process. My limbs felt like spaghetti noodles and for several minutes I simply laid there, staring up at the ceiling, trying to come to terms with what had just happened.
He’d flipped the script on me. He was supposed to be the boneless one, the one in awe of my skills. Not the other way around.
This would never do.
“Come here.”
A strong arm slid around me, pulling me in to pillow my head on his chest. I’d never been one for cuddling after sex, but I didn’t have the energy to fight him on it. Besides, I couldn’t bring myself to look him in the eye just then. Not until I’d recovered.
Not until I was certain that I could somehow find a way to gain the upper hand. Because regardless of how good I felt in that moment, there was no way in hell I was going to live the rest of my life under another man’s thumb.
Five
Nora
Three more screaming orgasms and a long hot shower later, I was searching through my suitcase for something suitable to wear to dinner while Michael took his turn in the bathroom. Thank god he hadn’t insisted we shower together. I’d desperately needed some space to clear my head and think.
Somehow, I needed the upper hand again. But how the hell was I supposed to gain the advantage with a man who was as impervious to pouting and tears as he was to my “womanly charms” as they say?