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I made quick excuses, hugged Mandy—who winked knowingly—and grabbed my purse. Tyson's hand on my lower back guided me through the crowd, firm and possessive, broadcasting ownership to anyone watching.

His bike waited in the lot, gleaming chrome and power. He handed me my special purple helmet without asking if I wanted to stay longer. He knew. Could probably smell the arousal on me, see the way I pressed my thighs together.

"Hold on tight," he growled, and I did, arms wrapped around him, feeling every breath, every shift of muscle.

The ride home was torture. Every rev of the engine vibrated through me, every turn pressed me harder against his back. His hand kept dropping to my thigh, squeezing, reminding me he was just as affected.

By the time we reached my apartment, I was liquid heat and desperate need. Whatever he had planned, I was ready. More than ready.

Aching for it.

The apartment door barely clicked shut before Tyson spun me against it, his body caging mine with delicious pressure. Four hours of watching me in that purple dress had clearly tested his control to the breaking point—I could feel it in the tremor of his hands, the harsh breath against my neck.

"That fucking dress," he growled, fingers already searching for the zipper. "Been hard since I saw you in it. Every spin on that dance floor, every glimpse of your thigh . . ."

"Daddy," I gasped, arching into his touch. The word always hit him like a physical thing, made his control slip just enough to show the hunger beneath. "Need you."

"Yeah?" His teeth scraped my pulse point, making me shiver. "Need Daddy to take care of you? Been aching for it all day?"

His hands slid up my thighs, pushing the silk higher, finding the evidence of exactly how affected I was. The lace panties were soaked through, probably had been since our first dance. He groaned against my neck, fingers teasing through the fabric.

"Fuck, baby. This wet already?" He pressed harder, finding my clit through the lace, making me whimper. "Such a needylittle girl. Could smell how turned on you were during that slow dance. Wanted to bend you over right there, show everyone who you belong to."

"Please," I begged, hips rolling against his hand. "Daddy, please, I need—"

"I know what you need." He spun me suddenly, hands braced against the door, my ass pressed back against him. I could feel how hard he was through his suit pants, the rigid length that promised exactly what I craved. "But first, these are coming off."

His fingers hooked in my panties, and I heard fabric tear. The lace gave way with a rip that made me moan, cool air hitting heated flesh. He kicked my feet wider, the dress bunched around my waist, leaving me exposed and desperate.

"Tyson!"

"Told you," he murmured, dropping to his knees behind me. "These were coming off the second we got home."

Then his mouth was on me and coherent thought fled. He ate me like a man starved, tongue plunging deep while his fingers worked my clit. I had to brace harder against the door, legs already shaking, the overwhelming sensation making me cry out.

"That's it," he encouraged between licks. "Let me hear you, baby. Let the whole building know who's making you feel this good."

He slid two fingers inside, curling them just right, and I shattered. The orgasm hit like a lightning strike, my whole body convulsing, only his grip on my hip keeping me upright. He worked me through it, drawing out every aftershock until I was whimpering from oversensitivity.

"Good girl," he praised, standing and turning me to face him. His lips glistened with my arousal, and I pulled him down for a messy kiss, tasting myself on his tongue. "So perfect for Daddy. But we're not done."

He lifted me easily, carrying me to the bedroom while I worked on his tie, his buttons, needing skin against skin. By the time he set me on the bed, his shirt hung open, revealing the body that never failed to make my mouth water. Scars and ink and solid muscle, all mine to touch and taste and worship.

"Leave the dress," he ordered when I reached for the zipper again. "Been fantasizing about fucking you in it all day."

I obeyed, spreading my legs wider, showing him everything. His eyes went dark, dangerous, that particular hunger that meant I was about to be thoroughly claimed. He stripped efficient, revealing himself to me, and I licked my lips at the sight.

"How do you want me, Daddy?"

"On your back. Legs spread. Show me that pretty pussy."

I arranged myself as requested, purple silk pooled around my waist, completely exposed where it mattered. He stood at the foot of the bed, stroking himself slowly, just looking. The weight of his gaze made me squirm, made me wetter, made me need.

"Mine," he said roughly. "Every inch of you. Mine."

"Yours," I agreed, spreading wider, shameless in my need. "Please, Daddy. Need you inside me."

He crawled over me, predatory grace in every movement. When he finally slid home, we both groaned at the perfection of it. The stretch, the fullness, the rightness of being joined. He started slow, deep strokes that hit every sensitive spot, building the pleasure gradually.