Daddy was mean

Rae’s POV

The rest of the drive was torture.

His hand stayed on my thigh, hot, unmoving, thumb occasionally brushing the edge of my lace like a promise he had no intention of keeping.

Every time I shifted, trying to get even an inch of relief, he squeezed once, firm, possessive, and went right back to ignoring the way I was practically vibrating.

I crossed my arms, stared out the window, and decided I was furious.

Cutely furious. The kind of furious that made my cheeks hot and my bottom lip push out.

He glanced over once, twice, lips twitching like he was fighting a smile.

“Still not talking to me, kitten?”

I turned the music up and pretended to be fascinated by palm trees.

He chuckled,low, dark, delighted, and let me stew.

By the time we pulled into the driveway, I was a storm cloud wrapped in a sundress. He parked, came around to open my door, and offered his hand like a perfect gentleman.

I ignored it, hopped out on my own, and marched toward the main house without looking back.

“Rae,” he called, amusement thick in his voice.

I kept walking.

I heard his footsteps behind me, slow, unhurried. He was enjoying this way too much.

Upstairs, I slammed my bedroom door, closed it firmly, took the world’s fastest shower, and changed into war clothes: a tiny black pleated mini skirt that barely covered my ass and a baby-pink crop top so cropped the undercurve of my breasts peeked with every breath.

No bra. Hair loose and wild. Lip gloss shiny and inviting.

If he wanted to tease, fine. Two could play.

I padded barefoot to the kitchen, hips swaying, and reached for the top shelf where Mom kept the good red wine. The bottle was just out of reach, of course it was.

Two strong arms caged me in from behind.

“Thirsty?” Killian’s voice was horse, against my ear.

I didn’t answer. Just stretched higher, skirt riding up dangerously.

He reached over me easily, grabbed the bottle, and set it on the counter in front of me, then didn’t move.

His chest brushed my back, hands settling on the counter on either side of my hips.

“Dinner,” he said casually, like he wasn’t trapping me. “What do you want, baby?”

Silence.

I poured myself a generous glass, took a prim sip, and walked straight past him toward the glass doors that led to the pool.

The night air was warm, fairy lights twinkling over the water.

I perched on the edge of a lounger, legs crossed, wine glass dangling from my fingers, pretending to admire the stars.

Thirty seconds later, strong hands slid under my thighs and behind my back.

I shrieked as Killian lifted me clean off the chair.

“Killian! Put me down!”

He didn’t. He stepped off the edge, fully clothed, and we plunged into the pool together.

Cool water rushed over us. I came up sputtering, hair plastered to my face, crop top now completely see-through.

He surfaced right in front of me, grinning like a devil, arms still locked around my waist so I couldn’t escape.

“You—!” I splashed him hard.

He laughed, deep and filthy, and pulled me flush against him.

Water lapped at our chests. His mouth found my neck instantly, soft kisses, then gentle sucking that made my knees buckle even in the water.

“Why are you being naughty, kitten?” he murmured between kisses, teeth grazing my pulse. “Ignoring me all the way home. Dressing like this just to drive me insane.”

I tried to stay mad. I really did.

But then his lips closed over the fabric covering my nipple, sucking gently through the soaked cotton, tongue flicking until the peak was hard and aching.

I whimpered. “Daddy was mean.”

“Tell me,” he said against my skin, switching to the other breast, giving it the same slow, worshipful treatment. “Why was Daddy mean?”

My brain short-circuited. Words tumbled out in fragments.

“You—you wouldn’t—”

He pulled back just enough to meet my eyes, water dripping from his lashes. “Mean by not fucking you in a car where anyone could see this perfect body?” His voice dropped.

“Mean by making you wait when you kept teasing me like a needy little brat? Mean by not bending you over the console when you refused to even speak to me?”

His mouth returned to my breast, teeth gazing the sensitive peak through fabric.

“Tell me, baby,” he murmured, voice dark and coaxing. “Tell me exactly how I was mean, or I’ll punish you tonight. And you know I keep my promises.”

I opened my mouth, wanted to answer, needed to, but all that came out was a breathy stutter.

“I—you—stop—”

He hummed, pleased, and sucked harder, making me arch into him.

“Can’t think of a good answer?” he asked softly, lips brushing my wet skin. “That’s okay. I’ll just have to punish you anyway.”