Page 29 of Daddy's Claim

“I can’t! I’m too heavy!”

“You aren’t. Now, be a good girl and ride Daddy’s face.”

It took longer than I wanted it to, but eventually her legs began to tremble and she reluctantly gave in, lowering herself to rest on top of me.

Still holding her perfect ass in my hands, I lapped at her pussy, running my tongue between her folds, nipping at herswollen, engorged clit. After a bit, she rolled her hips, grinding her greedy little cunt against my mouth as I worshiped every inch of it with my tongue.

“Oh, god. Oh, god. Michael, please!”

I gave her cheeks a hard squeeze, hoping she’d get the message. By now I was too invested in giving her the best fucking orgasm she’d ever had to stop and punish her for calling me by name. The pain seemed to spur her on, turning her movements frantic as she squealed.

“Fuck! Daddy!”

She screamed it as she came, her muscles spasming and her pussy gushing all over my beard. But I didn’t release her, not until I was sure I’d wrung every last ounce of pleasure from her beautiful body.

When I was finally satisfied, I flipped her back onto her stomach. It suddenly felt like I couldn’t move fast enough, and I let loose every swear word I could think of as I fumbled with my belt and my jeans before finally freeing my aching cock. Gripping her hips, I raised them high and buried myself in her welcoming wet heat.

Her little whimpers mixed with the sound of our bodies moving together in the otherwise silent room. I fucked her, hard and fast, branding her with my cock until I finally, blessedly, emptied myself deep within her.

Collapsing onto the bed beside her, I drew her into my arms and pressed a kiss to her damp forehead. “I told you I’m wild about you, princess.”

“Hmm.”

It was clear from her noncommittal hum she still didn’t believe me. But that was fine. One way or another, I was going to prove to my wife that she could trust me.

Even if I had to fuck her on every available surface in my cousin’s giant-ass house to do so.

Nora

Held tightly against the chest of my sleeping husband, I stared up at the ceiling, wide awake despite the late hour. Exhaustion seemed to settle into my very bones, but sleep eluded me as my mind raced. Nothing this man said or did made the least bit of sense to me, and I just couldn’t reconcile his words and actions with my past experiences.

Men like my father and his goons were easy enough to manipulate. But Michael… he was a different breed altogether, and I couldn’t seem to find my balance with him.

In the still quiet of the night, I could admit that part of the problem was how he made me feel. Logically, I should hate him. He’d taken away my freedom and my family and forced me to marry him, locking me away in this gilded cage just waiting for him to decide when he had time for me.

Even as the thoughts crossed my mind, I recognized the falsehood in them. Michael DeCosta had simply been there when my father had decided to use me as a pawn in his negotiations. I’d heard the whisperings of trouble brewing, though nobody really seemed to know who had started it. As much as my father had tried to keep me out of his business growing up, it was impossible to keep everything from me. The men still talked, and I still had ears.

So, while I wanted to claim Michael was keeping me as a prisoner, I was grudgingly forced to admit he was merely protecting me from a possible war. And if the man had a piece of ass on the side, then he was a fucking sex machine because my entire body ached from all of the positions he had contorted me in while he’d rammed his rock-hard cock into my pussy over the past two days.

He’d given me a home when my own father had basically threatened to kick me out of the house, and he was, in his own infuriating way, ensuring my continued existence on this Earth. I was slowly running out of reasons to hate him.

He beats you.

Rolling my eyes at my own dramatics, I snorted quietly. There were men in our world who did far worse to their women than a few swats on the ass. Whatever else he may do, however else he might decide to punish me, I was absolutely certain Michael would never truly harm me. And, I was forced to admit, as painful as getting my ass whipped had been, there was no doubting I’d deserved each and every lash.

There was also no denying the way my body responded to his discipline.

“Who the fuck am I?” I whispered into the darkness.

“You’re my wife, Leonora DeCosta.” His voice, husky with the sleep he hadn’t quite shed, rumbled in the darkness as he slid an arm across my stomach. “You’re the most beautiful and infuriating woman I’ve ever met, and if you aren’t tired enough to sleep I’ve obviously not done my job.”

Here he was, basically reading my mind, and somehow I was the infuriating one? “I thought you were asleep.”

“I was, but your brain is so loud it woke me up. Something you wanna discuss, princess?”

So many things, but not with him. It was one thing to confess the truth of my situation to myself, but I couldn’t—wouldn’t—allow him to see how vulnerable he made me feel. Once a man like him had that kind of power over a woman…

No. Better to just keep those late-night revelations to myself.