Daisy
The club is quiet when I creep down the hall. I’m upstairs where Ronan has his private room, right next to Eden’s, and he’s already in there…waiting for me.
I have no idea why I’m nervous, but tonight feels important. Tonight is the first night I’m going to truly…submit to him. So yes, I’m nervous. What if I don’t like it? What if I’m bad at it?
What if it’s perfect, and I fall even more in love with him?
Somehow that feels worse.
At some point, I have to come clean and sooner rather than later feels appropriate.
Tomorrow. I’ll be off work and it will just be us for the day. I’ll tell him everything and beg him not to hate me for keeping this secret. He’ll be a little upset, maybe even spank me for it. Then, we’ll talk it through and I’ll do whatever I have to, to make it up to him.
Then, the rest of our lives can start.
When I reach the door to his room, I pull the key card he gave me last night out of my back pocket. After swiping it, I open the door and notice the room is different from before.
The lights are dim, and there are black restraints attached to each post of the bed. Ronan is sitting in the chair across the room. I freeze under his potent gaze, unsure if I’m supposed to be submissive already or if he’s going to go over some rules or something first. He already made me talk about my limits and he explained the safe word system to me—red, yellow, green. Seems easy enough.
I’m just so afraid I’m going to mess this up somehow.
He crosses the room and pulls me in gently, kissing me as a greeting. The moment his lips are pressed softly to mine, my anxiety dissipates. Ronan has this ability to calm me with his presence.
And I realize that, even if I do somehow mess this up, he’ll be there to help me. He won’t hurt me, or humiliate me, or patronize me. He said he will always protect me, and I believe that.
I melt into his arms, suddenly feeling a little more excited than nervous.
“I bought you something,” he whispers against my lips.
My eyebrows perk up at that. “What is it?”
When he lifts his hand, I look down to see a small gift bag, my heart hammering in my chest at the sight. “If you don’t like it, you don’t have to wear it.”
I take the bag from his hands and smile up at him. “Can I open it?”
“Go into the bathroom to try it on. Then let me see you in it.”
“Okay,” I reply with a bite of my lip.
When I reach the bathroom, I close myself in and pull the tissue paper out of the bag. Inside I see black, but not very much. Pulling it out, I stare at what can’t be more than a handful of black silk in the shape of a nightie. Gentle sable straps and delicate silky fabric. It’s beautiful, while looking fierce, and I tense for a moment when I realize…this isn’t me at all.
I don’t want to disappoint him, so I shed my clothes and slip the lingerie on, and I’m pleasantly surprised by how I look in it. With my pale blonde braid and porcelain skin, I’m practically glowing in contrast with the dark silk.
I stare at myself in the mirror for a few moments. Pulling my hair out of the single braid, I let the waves cascade over my shoulder, and I let myself imagine that I’m not Daisy, the grief-stricken, practically homeless, lost cause in need of guidance. I’m Daisy, the sexually-confident, world-traveling, fearless vixen.
It’s laughable. But it helps to not feel so out of my element.
When I step out of the bathroom, Ronan is standing near the bar not wearing a shirt. I’m staring at him in much the same way he’s staring at me. I can’t wait to get my hands on him, to touch him and soak in the warmth of his body like it’s comforting heat on a cold night.
“Daisy,” he whispers. “Come here.”
I move across the room, feeling a wave of nerves again. When I’m within arm’s reach of him, he slides a hand into my hair and drags my mouth toward him for a burning kiss. His tongue glides against mine and I marvel at how his kisses can feel so raw and passionate, yet so tender and loving at the same time. He kisses me like he wants to savor me. Like he wants me to feel him.
He kisses me with his whole soul.
Oh, that would be a great lyric. God, I hope I don’t forget that line before I have a chance to write it down. Not that I could ever forget how Ronan Kade’s kisses feel. They are burned into my memory forever.
Although I hope I never get a chance to forget them. After tomorrow, I just don’t know.
“Do you like it?” he asks as he pulls away.
I press my lips together before looking down. “I do,” I say, but he’s lifting my face with his fingers under my chin.
“But?”
“Is this really me? Black and sexy,” I reply with a laugh.
“This is how I see you.” Then he spins me, so I’m facing the mirror, with him standing behind me. “I might treat you like my baby girl, but this is how you look to me, Daisy. I don’t want a girl who bends easily. I want to know I brought a woman to her knees for me. And every time you call me Daddy, that’s how I feel.”
My brow furrows. “Really?”
With his lips against my neck, he mumbles, “Really.”
This whole time I thought Ronan viewed me as nothing more than a grown woman in need of guidance. Not a child, but not an adult either. But this woman standing in front of the mirror is what he’s seen this whole time? How have I missed this?
I replay every moment of our relationship up until now, trying to see myself through his eyes. Sleeping in my van, nearly fighting him off when he tried to force me to his apartment. Playing piano on the street. Coming in his lap in front of the Eiffel Tower.
Suddenly, the idea of submitting to him, with this new perspective, sends a shot of arousal to my core. Especially when I realize it’s the same for me. Ronan Kade is the richest man in town. He could have anyone he wants, but I’m the one who brings him to his knees.
I spin to face him as I pull his lips down to mine. This kiss is hungrier, more passionate, making me grow wet between my thighs.
“I want this,” I whisper to him, after pulling my lips away from his. “I want you to do whatever you want with me.”
“You want to be mine. Truly mine?”
“Yes,” I gasp, with zero hesitation. “All yours, Ronan.”
Using his name instead of Daddy feels significant. We’re not playing and I’m not taking this lightly. I’m serious when I say I want nothing and no one else. I am all his for as long as I can be. Without hesitation.
“I’m going to strap you to the bed. You won’t be in any pain, but I’m going to blindfold you. And then I’m going to play with your body, Daisy.” His voice is warm, yet authoritative, and I find it comforting. “I’ll make you feel good, but at some point, you will beg me to stop, and I won’t. Not unless you use the safe word. I want to see how far I can take you, and I promise it will be nothing like anything you’ve felt before.”
My hands are trembling with anticipation as I slide them over his chest, feeling the beat of his heart under my palm. “You’ll get off too, right? We’ll…have sex, right?”
He smiles down at me. “Don’t you worry about me, Daisy. This isn’t about sex, but if I want to fuck you, I will.”
I swallow, loving the way those words sound on his lips. A little harshness and coldness on his usually kind and warm demeanor.
God, I hope he does. The idea of coming so much I beg for mercy sounds nice, but what I really want is him. For him to lose control and not be able to help himself anymore.
With that, I set my shoulders and smile. “I’m ready.”
“Get on the bed,” he says in a cool command.
Taking a deep breath, I walk over to the bed. Unlike the last time I was in here, the pillows and duvet are gone, leaving only black sheets. I climb up and turn to face him, waiting for further instruction.
“Lie down,” he says.
I do. He takes each hand and binds it in the Velcro strap, before moving to my legs. Then he picks up the blindfold from the mattress and situates it over my eyes. My heart is beating so hard in my chest. I am completely at his mercy, and even though I know Ronan would never hurt me, it’s still unsettling and a little scary.
His hands glide over the top of one leg and down the other, as if he’s just letting me feel his touch. Connecting us.
“You look so beautiful like this, Daisy. I’m committing the sight of you to memory.”
I want to tell him he doesn’t have to commit it to memory. I’ll be like this for him whenever he wants. Forever.
But I don’t speak. I just focus on his touch and the sound of his voice.
“This is just a stimulant. It’s going to feel cold.”
I jump when his fingers skim through my folds, rubbing something cool over my clit. Immediately, the skin between my legs pulses, and I’m hyperaware of even the air touching my most sensitive spot.
“Uh…” I gasp, starting to squirm.
“Does that feel good, baby girl?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
Then his fingers are gone from my skin and I wait. It’s silent, which is why I nearly jump when I feel something soft against my chest. It’s a feathery light touch, but not knowing what it is makes me panic.
“Relax, Daisy. Trust me.”
The softness is drifting upward to my neck and then my cheek. He’s skimming it over my neck when I feel his fingers sliding up the inside of my thigh.
But just when I expect him to reach the apex and slide over my exceedingly sensitive sex, he moves away. Again and again, he does that, as if he’s rubbing my muscles instead of making me come.
Suddenly, I catch the scent of something aromatic and put it all together. He’s rubbing oil over my skin. He’s literally massaging me. And the anticipation of his touch is killing me.
I should be so relaxed and enjoying this, but instead, I’m a ball of nerves, waiting for the other shoe to drop. All of my fears and anxiety are hanging in the air, blocking me from really connecting to this the way he wants.
“You’re tense,” he says, and I swallow back tears.
Let it go, Daisy. It’s okay to feel good. It’s okay to be happy.
I do my best to quiet my mind, focusing only on his touch, the sound of his breathing, his nearness. The tingle of warmth between my legs. That intoxicating scent of lavender and sandalwood. It’s invigorating and sexy and I chant to myself in my mind that there is nothing else but this. Nothing else but this. Nothing else but this.
I’ve nearly silenced the voices when something starts buzzing quietly near my head and I swallow.
It’s a low vibration and he drifts it up the inside of my legs in the same pattern as his hands a moment ago. And just like his hands, he detours the vibrator before putting it where I really want it.
I let out a groan as I lift my hips, trying to chase the thing in his hands with my body. But he only chuckles quietly to himself before teasing me again.
“My girl is so eager,” he whispers darkly. “You want this, don’t you, baby girl?”
“Yes,” I breathe out.
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, Daddy,” I say in a sweet plea.
On the next round up my legs, he inches closer, but not quite where I want it. I’m writhing and begging for him to touch me, and I almost can’t believe how badly I want to come already. Just from his fingers all over my body and whatever he rubbed on my clit. I’m craving a climax so much I could cry.
When he finally presses the vibrator against my clit, I let out a squeal, my body fighting against the restraints. I come fast and hard, the pleasure ending as quickly as it came. All too soon, I’m left panting and wondering what happens next.
The bed dips and I feel Ronan settle his weight between my bound legs. “You have no idea how beautiful you are when you come, Daisy. I could watch it over and over again.”
I need his touch more than anything. His hands skate up my legs, and then I feel his lips trace the path his hands just drew. He’s kissing his way up until I feel something warm and wet, wiping my folds clean. There’s a residual burn from whatever he put there, but it’s quickly replaced with his lips. A high-pitched hum bubbles out of me as he licks my tender clit. He has me desperate and needy, so it doesn’t take long with him sucking on the sensitive spot and I’m already coming again.
The restraints are keeping me from fully indulging in the pleasure, which means the orgasm comes and goes too fast again. My legs flex and fight against the binds.
Then the vibrator is back and I’m starting to sweat. He teases me for a while, pressing it to my nipples, my stomach, my thighs, before trailing it to my clit. Then, I’m coming again.
And again.
And again.
Until pleasure starts to feel like torture.
I start to lose sense of time, never quite knowing when one orgasm ends and another begins. I sink further into myself until I’m nothing but sensation, and I can no longer define what feels good and what feels bad. There is just his voice, his touch, his mouth. It’s like Ronan has become my god and I can do nothing but obey.
Somewhere in this abyss of pleasure, I lose sense of myself entirely.
