Chapter 7: Morning Claim

SAESHA POV

The first thing I feel is heat.

Not sunlight, not the sheets. Him.

Veeraj’s body pressed solid behind mine, chest to my back, hand already heavy at my hip like I’m an anchor he has no plans of releasing. My lashes flutter, and the second I shift, I know.

He’s already inside me.

My mouth parts on a gasp. My thighs twitch, the soreness from last night colliding with a slow, thick stretch that makes my entire body light up. I grip the pillow, muffling the whimper that slips out anyway.

“Awake, Principessa?” His voice is gravel and heat at my ear.

I try to answer, but all I manage is a shaky sound.

He chuckles dark, dragging his hips back and snapping them forward again, deeper, harder. The shock of it makes my spine arch, my knees pressing into the mattress.

“You’re wet already,” he groans, his grip on my hip tightening. “You were dreaming about me, weren’t you?”

“No—”

“Yes.” His teeth scrape my neck. “Your body doesn’t lie. My cock’s been buried in you since sunrise and you’ve been clenching around me the whole damn time.”

I bite my lip, face burning, because he’s right. I don’t want to admit it, but my body betrays me. Every drag, every thrust makes me wetter, needier, like I woke up starving.

He pushes my knee forward, spreading me open just enough to drive in harder. The sound is obscene—skin, breath, the wet slide of him claiming me all over again.

“Look at you,” he growls, snapping his hips. “Taking me half-asleep, like a good little whore. You don’t even need permission now. You’re mine. My bed, my cock, my morning.”

Shame scorches me—but the moan that tears out of my throat ruins the denial.

“That’s it,” he says, voice low and filthy. “Cry for it. Moan for it. Let me hear how much you love being used the second you open those pretty eyes.”

“I—I don’t—”

“Liar,” he cuts me off, thrusting so deep I scream into the pillow. “Say it. Say you love it.”

My pride frays, breaking under the way he fills me, stretching me too much, too good. “I love it,” I gasp, broken.

His groan is ragged, feral. “Again.”

“I love it!”

“That’s my dirty girl.” His chest drags against my back, his hand sliding to my throat, holding me there as he pounds into me from behind. “Daddy’s little slut, moaning for her morning fuck.”

The word tears through me. My eyes squeeze shut. My body convulses, hot shame turning into hotter pleasure.

He laughs darkly at the way I shudder. “You love when I call you that, don’t you? Daddy’s slut. Daddy’s toy. Daddy’s tight little pussy.”

My moan breaks into a sob. “Yes—”

“Say it louder.”

“Yes! I love it!”

His hips slam harder, relentless. The headboard taps against the wall, the sheets tangling around my legs. I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I can only take it.

“That’s it,” he snarls. “Take it. Take every inch. You’re not leaving this bed until I’ve filled you so deep you feel me all day.”

The words light me up. The shame is fire. My body clutches him tighter, desperate.

“I’m close,” I sob, the pressure unbearable.

“Not yet,” he growls. His pace slows just enough to torture, grinding deeper instead of faster. “You don’t come until I say.”

I whimper, thighs trembling. “Please—”

His hand grips my jaw, forcing my head back against his shoulder. His lips brush my ear, cruel and hot. “Say it. Beg Daddy to let you come.”

Tears sting my eyes. My pride breaks completely. “Please, Daddy—please let me come—”

The sound he makes is guttural, wrecked. His thrusts turn brutal, punishing, slamming me into the mattress again and again until the whole bed shakes.

“Now,” he growls, and the word detonates inside me.

The orgasm rips through me violent, unstoppable. My scream shatters against his grip, my body convulsing as pleasure explodes through every nerve. My walls clutch him, squeeze him, drown him.

He doesn’t stop. He keeps driving, chasing his own release until he curses rough against my neck, groaning my name like sin, spilling into me with a heat that makes me shudder harder.

The world blurs. The sheets are soaked. My body is wrecked.

He collapses against my back, chest heavy, breath hot against my ear. His hand stays at my throat, not choking now, just holding. Claiming.

“You’re not going home,” he murmurs, voice raw. “Not after this. You’re mine, Saesha. Every morning. Every night. Until you admit you want it.”

His weight still pins me into the mattress, his cock softening inside me, his breath hot at my ear. I’m limp, boneless, a wreck—but the ache between my thighs is still alive.

The soreness, the wet mess, the way my body refuses to let him go.

“Stay still,” Veeraj mutters, dragging his mouth along my shoulder. “You’re not done. Not even close.”

I shiver, my core clenching around him despite myself.

But when he starts to shift, pulling out, I catch his wrist.

“No,” I whisper, turning my head just enough to meet his eyes. “I’m not finished either.”

He raises a brow, the corner of his mouth lifting like I just challenged him. “Not finished?”

I push against his chest, surprising him, making him fall back against the mattress. My thighs tremble as I climb over him, straddling his hips, my wet heat sliding along his length again.

His eyes darken instantly. “Saesha—”

I cut him off by grinding down on him. He groans, low and wrecked, and I smirk.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” I murmur, my voice still hoarse from moaning his name. “You’ve had me all night. Let me play now.”

Before he can grab my hips, I slip off him and climb out of bed. My body still shakes, but I don’t care. I walk naked across his room, every step deliberate, until I reach the bathroom.

The claw-foot tub gleams under the soft light, water still warm from his shower earlier. I turn the faucet, steam filling the space, and glance back at him.

He’s sitting up now, watching me with murder and lust in his eyes, his cock already hardening again.

“Get in,” I say.

For once, he doesn’t argue. He follows, stepping into the tub like a king humoring his queen. The water splashes around his body, sliding down his chest, dripping from the tattoos on his arms.

I sink in after him, settling on his lap, his length pressed against my folds under the water.

“You’re playing with fire again,” he growls, gripping my waist.

I wrap my arms around his neck and smile. “Then burn with me.”

And before he can stop me, I sink down on him.

The stretch makes me cry out, the water splashing up around us as his cock fills me all over again. He groans, his head snapping back, his hands tightening hard enough on my hips to bruise.

“Fuck, Saesha,” he snarls. “You’re dripping all over me.”

I start to move, rolling my hips, grinding against him under the water. The slick, the warmth, the way it feels like he’s everywhere inside me—it makes my head spin.

He stares at me like I’ve lost my mind. “You think you’re in charge now? Riding Daddy’s cock like you know what you’re doing?”

“Yes,” I whisper, breathless. “I do.”

He laughs darkly, the sound echoing in the tiled room. “Prove it.”

So I do.

I rise and drop, the water splashing around us, his cock hitting deeper every time. My nails dig into his shoulders, my lips parting with every desperate moan. His eyes never leave me—hungry, furious, turned on beyond reason.

“You look like a fucking slut,” he growls. “Bouncing on me like you were made for it. You love this, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I pant, my head tipping back. “I love it.”

His thumb drags over my clit under the water, circling hard and fast, and I scream. My body tightens around him, clenching, desperate for release.

But he doesn’t let me have it yet. He grips my chin, forcing me to look at him. “Say it. Say you love riding Daddy’s cock.”

Shame and desire twist together, but I can’t hold back. “I love riding Daddy’s cock—”

His groan is savage. He thrusts up hard, meeting my downward stroke, and the collision sends me spiraling. My orgasm tears through me, violent and raw, my body shaking as I scream his name over and over.

But he doesn’t stop. He pounds up into me, using my body, forcing me to keep bouncing even as my legs threaten to give out.

“You don’t quit,” he snarls. “Not until I’m done. Keep riding.”

Tears blur my vision, my voice breaking with every moan, but I obey. My hips slam against him, the water sloshing out of the tub, soaking the floor. My body is wrecked, my clit throbbing, my pussy raw and stretched—but I don’t stop.

“Good girl,” he groans, his head falling back. “Fuck, you’re going to make me come—”

His release hits with a violent thrust, hot and deep, filling me until it leaks out around him under the water. He growls my name like a curse and a prayer, his arms wrapping around me, holding me down on him while he empties himself inside.

We stay like that, panting, the water rippling around us, the whole bathroom reeking of sex and steam.

I collapse against his chest, my body trembling, my voice gone.

His hand slides into my hair, gripping gently, forcing me to meet his eyes.

“You think you surprised me,” he says, his voice low and dangerous. “But you only proved what I already knew.”

“What’s that?” I whisper, lips swollen, throat raw.

“That you were made to take me.”

And even wrecked, I smile. Because he’s right.

End of Chapter 7