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“N-no—please, Daddy—please, I’m sorry—” I was now willing to beg, but he didn’t stop.

Not yet.

“I won’t hesitate to punish you whenever and wherever you need it, baby girl,” he told me, spanking me again, the sharp sting radiating up through my spine. “I could take you over my knee every single day and never tire of reddening this naughty little ass.”

I sobbed.

Just once.

Soft. Broken.

And then it was over.

He stopped.

My chest was heaving. My throat was tight. My skin was molten and buzzing and I knew that I was soaked between my legs, throbbing with a need that was somehow stronger than the stinging heat across my ass.

He rubbed my back gently now, palm moving in slow, soothing circles.

“You needed that,” he murmured.

I was too overwhelmed to argue, too wrecked to deny it.

He adjusted me carefully, lifting me from his lap and cradling me against his chest. My bare thighs straddled him now, but my face was hidden in his neck, breath shaking as I tried to calm myself. He kissed my temple, lips warm against my skin, and exhaled like the weight he carried had finally settled somewhere it belonged.

“I’ve got you now,” he said, his voice sure. “And I’m never letting go.”

CHAPTER 21

Nikolai

She was still trembling in my lap, her bare thighs shaking, her breath catching every few seconds like she was trying to process what had just happened. Her cheeks were damp, but her eyes…fuck, her eyes.

Half-lidded, emerald green, dazed, glazed with utter satisfaction, but still burning with desperate arousal.

Still wanting. Still waiting.

She was soaked. I could feel it. Her slickness pressed hot and heavy against my thigh, her body squirming in my lap with need she wasn’t even trying to hide, not anymore.

Now she was waiting for what came next. I was going to give her exactly what she needed, just not how she wanted it.

I shifted her in my lap, capturing her waist with both hands and adjusting her until her soaked core was straddling my thigh.I pressed her down gently, making sure the muscles flexed beneath her, and her breath stuttered.

“Daddy,” she whispered, wide-eyed again, her hands clutching at my shoulders.

“You’re going to ride my thigh,” I instructed calmly. “You’re going to get yourself off for me, baby girl. Right here. Right now.”

Her lips parted. Her face went crimson, but she didn’t pull away. I slid one hand around the back of her neck, fingers threading into her hair.

“And I’m going to watch.”

She let out a soft, shaky sound—half protest, half moan—but her hips twitched forward just slightly, already searching for friction.

“Do it,” I murmured. “Rub that needy little pussy on me until you come.”

She gasped, blushed, and then started to move. Slow at first, hesitant. Her slick heat slid over my thigh with every roll of her hips, the silk of the dress bunching at her waist, as she left a wet spot on my jeans.

I held her in place, one hand in her hair, the other resting on her hip as she ground down on me, every motion growing just a little bolder, a little needier.