Bite Me, Daddy (Dangerous Daddy Book 3)

Still, she wasn’t going down without a fight.

Straining her neck to the left, she sank her teeth into the flesh of his upper arm. He released her with a roar. Mirage bolted through the door with Paine hard on her heels. There was a hard blow to her lower back. Losing her balance, she crashed to the wooden hallway floor. Half crawling, half running, she struggled to raise herself up. Strong fingers clasped around her ankle. Turning on her back, she kicked out at him, connecting with his jaw, desperate to be free. Dodging her flailing limb, he grabbed her other ankle and pulled. She slid along the polished surface till her open legs straddled his knees. Releasing her ankles, he placed a hand on either side of her head.

“Keep struggling. It will make fucking you all that much more fun.” He laughed.

Mirage scratched her nails down his cheek before scrambling backwards after his momentary distraction. Flipping over, she launched herself upright and ran. Knowing the window entrance to the second bedroom was too narrow and the additional time it would take her to maneuver over the balustrade and down the rope would cost her precious seconds, Mirage knew the front door was her only hope. Stumbling down the stairs, skipping several at a time, her body bounced between the wall and the railing in her haste. Upon reaching the front foyer, both palms flattened against the door to stop her momentum. Reaching down, she scrambled for the handle while grasping for the key with her other hand.

Hands encircled the top of her shoulders, spinning her around, slamming her back against the door.

Even in the darkness, she could make out the harsh angles and fierce outlines of his face.

“Just tell me why, Mira?” he ground out. There was an element of hurt in his voice which confused Mirage.

Bending her knees to break his grasp, she ducked under his arm and ran blindly. Her shin bumped into a low table. Scanning the space, she realized she must be in the living room. Remembering the floor plan despite her frenzy, she turned left knowing beyond was the dining room then kitchen. Through the kitchen was the back door and her last chance at freedom.

Just as she could make out the wide, rectangular shape of the dining room table, an arm wrapped around her stomach from behind. She screamed, grabbing for the high-backed chair at the head of the table, the only thing she could reach for purchase. The heavy chair toppled backwards as she was pulled back into the living room.

Her only choice now was the police. If the neighbors awoke from the sound of her screams and the struggle, they would probably call them. The police would question her presence in the house. They would undoubtedly find her knapsack filled with burglary tools. It would also place Paine in an awkward position. He wouldn’t want to tell the police too many details about himself and their prior relationship. He would be forced to say she was just a stranger. An opportunistic housebreaker. It meant possible prison time, but at least she would be alive.

Sucking in a fevered gasp for another scream, she never got the chance.

His large hand covered her mouth. The side of his index finger pressed against her nose. Between that and the heavy weight of his arms crushing her ribs and stifling her lungs, her air supply was completely cut off. Mirage struggled for breath as she clawed at his hand.

“Stop and I will let you breathe.”

With no other choice, she wilted in his arms.

Paine let her body slide to the floor at his feet. Standing over her, his bare chest was clearly outlined in the dim light. His denim-clad legs spread wide as he stared down at her. He looked like some kind of vengeful god.

Mirage could tell he was assessing the situation. Assessing her. She felt rather than saw his gaze as it scanned her body from head to foot, not missing a single detail. The power of his intense scrutiny stopped at her chest. Looking down, she could see her thin, black t-shirt had become torn in the struggle. Glinting in the yellow glow of the street light from outside, was the Raj Pink diamond, peeking out between the curves of her breasts.

It sealed her fate.

The tension in the room was thick. Their blood was running high and hot with violence and lust.

With a growl, he fell to his knees. The wide spread of his legs easily spanned her narrow hips. His hands fell to either side of her head, caging her in. Mirage expected to feel the cold grip of his strong hands around her throat, strangling the life out of her.

She was shocked beyond reason when his mouth crashed down on her own.

Taking possession.

His tongue swept in to stop all protest. Shifting, he moved his hand to her breast, palming the soft flesh, digging the tips of his fingers in, marking her with the bruise of his touch. The violence of his kiss crushed her lips against her teeth. He tasted of whiskey and the metallic tang of blood. His hand moved lower, cupping between her legs.

Mirage moaned as her hips shifted upwards.

“Is this what you really came for, baby?” he breathed against her lips.

The harsh sound of his voice brought Mirage back to reality, cutting through the haze of anger and lust.

“No!” she yelled as she tried to push his dominating weight off her. “I hate you. I want you dead!”

Leaning back on his thighs, his hand went to the zipper of his jeans. “Let’s see just how much you hate me.”

Mirage twisted onto her front and, using her elbows for purchase, tried to shimmy out from between his legs.

Paine grabbed her by the hips and pulled backwards.

Forced onto her knees, the front of her body low to the ground, her ass brushed against him. She could feel the hard ridge of his cock press into her flesh. Panicked, Mirage started to claw at the Persian rug, desperately trying to get away. She couldn’t let him know, let him feel, how much he affected her. It was her body, not her mind and she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

Keeping a restraining hand on her middle, he forced the fingers of his right into the waistband of her black yoga pants. Wrenching her pants down, he exposed her pale skin as the thin fabric bunched around her lower thighs.

“No!” she screamed.

His only response was to press a hand between her shoulder blades, forcing her upper body into the rug, her head to the side. She could hear the metallic trill of his zipper. A faint rustle of fabric.

He leaned over her prone body. “It’s not like I haven’t fucked this sweet cunt before, Mira. Do you remember that? Remember me spanking this sweet ass and making you scream Daddy.”

Mirage squeezed her eyes tight, ignoring his familiar use of the name Mira. His special nickname for her. No one else calls her that, just Paine. She tried to force the memory of that warm summer’s eve in a foreign land aside. Thinking she was going to die among the bullets and bombs that rained down on them, she had given in to Paine’s seduction. She hated to recall that memory as it had been the most passionate night of her life, far surpassing the ineffective lovemaking of Dev, the man she supposedly loved.

Oh god. Her body jerked at the humiliating remembrance of how she responded to him calling her his babygirl and making her call him Daddy. It was kinky and fucked up and so wrong …and she had reveled in every minute of it.

One night. One fucked up night of fucked up sex.

It had ruined everything.

The shadow of Paine had haunted her for their entire relationship. Dev never quite lived up to the memory of Paine. Another reason why she hated the man. Although she was with Paine before she dated Dev, her lasting memories of that night always made her feel as if she were cheating.

She could feel his hot flesh touch her chilled skin and the touch of his cock as he let it fall against her ass, caressing her. He reached between her legs and stroked her already wet clit, forcing a response. Her back arched as she pushed her hips back, grinding into his hand.

“You’re a bastard for this, you know that?”

“You tried to put a bullet in me. I think it’s only fair I put my cock in you, especially since we both know you want it.”

Two fingers pulsed as they circled her clit, her hips jerking in response. The scratchy seam of his jeans scraped against her outer thighs. She could smell the astringent, musky scent of his cologne with every inhale. Each sound seemed indistinct and far away through the thrumming in her ears. She felt the brush of his knuckles on the underside curve of her ass as he fisted his cock. The shaft pushed between her clenched thighs. The bulbous head forced its way to her entrance.

Mirage tried to buck her hips. The movement earned her an open palm slap on her right buttock. She screeched in shocked pain as prickled heat radiated from where his hand had touched her, sending unwanted ripples of illicit sensation between her legs.

“Stop or I will make it worse for you.”

What could possibly be worse than this humiliation? Her own body was betraying her, thought Mirage, as the weight of his body covered her own, pinning her down. The confident way he handled her, the power in his tight grasp, even his anger, all started to affect her. Memories of his touch came flooding back.

The head pushed in past the tightly clasped ring of muscle. Her body’s feeble, waning resistance to his assault useless.

Shifting his hand to her other hip, Paine rolled his hips back before violently thrusting forward.

The force of his cock pushing deep inside of her drove her body to the ground.

He pulled back, forcing her back onto her knees.

He thrust again.

A moan escaped her lips. She hated the satisfying feeling of fullness as his cock drove inside her.

His thick shaft pierced her in two. Her body burned as it struggled to accept each pulsing thrust.

“No, stop!” she cried out, fighting her body’s response as her arms reached weakly back, trying to push him away.

Still he shoved his cock into her body with powerful force.

“Say it. Say it, babygirl,” he breathed heavily against her neck. “Say fuck me, Daddy.”

“Bite me, Daddy,” she rebelliously ground out.

Sharp teeth sunk into the delicate flesh of her neck in retaliation as his large hand palmed her breast through her t-shirt. In disgust, Mirage wished he was touching her skin, wanted to once again feel the warmth of his hand. She remembered how he liked to pinch her nipples till she cried out in pleasure tinged pain.

The pressure of his rhythmic thrusts began to build. A spiraling warmth grew in the pit of her stomach. Her thighs clenched as she balled her hands into fists. Her primal self took over. The irrational side. The part of her that gloried in his violent mastery of her body, in his display of masculine power.

The pressure continued to build with each thrust.

Without thought, she reached between her legs and rubbed her clit. The tips of her fingers brushed the underside of his shaft as he pushed deep.

She felt rather than heard the rumble of his groan.

He thrust faster. Her whole frame rocked from the force of it.

Mirage fell forward, her arms stretched out, her fingers splayed wide as her body tensed for one supreme moment. Then her world splintered into a chaos of light, sound and color.

She was only dimly aware of his continued thrusts into her now sensitive cunt before she heard his roar. Felt the warmth of his cum on her lower back. The heat of his body as he collapsed along her side.

The night was once again still, but its peace was shattered.