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Rocking back and forth, I moved myself on his cock. My knees dug into the bed, and I was hunched over, propping myself up on his thighs. I raised myself up and ground myself down, using his cock to take my pleasure. I was so close to falling to pieces—just the touch of him, the feel of his body alive and moving inside me, almost shattered me—and then he slapped my ass.
Pain spiked across my backside, heat clawing at my skin. I hesitated on his cock, releasing a deep breath.
“Baby girl?” asked Cook. “Do you have something to say?”
Not my safe word. I moved on him again, leeching my pleasure away from him.
Daddy slapped my ass again, but the pain was dull. The heat spread out just as quick, only for it to wash away in the building pleasure. He slapped my ass again because I was such a bad girl. Insolent. Challenging. Wanting. I needed to be punished.
“I’m going to come, Daddy,” I warned, having to slow myself on his cock before tipping over the edge.
Daddy slapped my ass again. The pain flew across my backside, and I moaned. Pain and pleasure mingled, and I was about to shatter.
“Come, baby girl,” ordered Daddy, and then bent his knees as he thrust up and deep into me, devastating me in the best way possible.
My orgasm came as a tidal wave, churning into a maelstrom. I continued to rock on his cock, milking him, but I was falling forward. My arms had turned to jelly, but his knees held me there. I practically melted onto him, falling into my climax.
Soon, Daddy was pumping up into me. His movements became fast and wild. I tried to reach back for him, but he slapped my hand away. I wanted to say, “Come in me, Daddy,” and wanted him to fill me with his seed, but Daddy slipped his cock from my pussy and exploded onto my ass cheeks and lower back. He bellowed as he came, almost shocking me into another orgasm.
I sucked in a deep breath, still waiting for him, and he slid his hand between my ass cheeks, touching my puckered anus. “That’s a good girl,” he murmured softly, and my heart thudded. “Come here, nizhóní. Lay with me.”
Crawling up to his chest, I laid my head down over his steady heartbeat, listening, and Cook wrapped his arms around me. I fell asleep.
Chapter 33
Cook
When I stepped into Bou’smotorcycle shop, I felt the air change. The tension left the stitches in my wounds too tight. Maybe that was because I rode my motorcycle, ignoring how Maddie, Lanie, and Roni all warned me to take the truck. The bike gave me freedom, but the truck probably would’ve been the smarter choice.
I found my brothers chattering in the kitchenette. Church was nearly in session. Celt clapped me on the shoulder as I shook his hand, and Angel gave me a head jerk. Bou gave me a hug. It was good to see that she was safe in the mess that this had all become. She brushed her hand over my arm wound, like she was testing if I was okay, and I shot her a look.
She shrugged. “Can’t blame a girl for checking.”
“Maddie checked me over,” I said.
“I bet.” She winked at me.
“Not like that,” I replied.
“So she didn’t roll out the red carpet?”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m not talking about this with you.”
“Now who’s the shy one? Yet your shirt says it all.” She motioned to my T-shirt that said,There’s no feeling like lipstick on your dipstick.“Did Maddie iron that for you?”
“Yup.” I grinned.
Bou rolled her eyes, and I turned to the kitchenette that was now cramped with a large round table. Our MC was growing.
“We moving these little shindigs into the house soon?” I asked Bou.
Bou beamed. “And miss you cooking in my kitchenette?”
I scoffed. “You have Wilde to make you meals.”
“He’s a terrible cook.”
“No one’s as good as the one and only Cook.” I smirked.
