Claimed By The Biker King
“Mmm. Yes, baby girl. Beg me. Tell me what you want.”
I whimpered as he rolled his hips again, so deep it stole my breath. “Please.”
His smile curved against my skin, dark and satisfied. “Please what? Use your words.”
Heat flooded my face. He was still moving—slow, relentless, perfect—and it was driving me insane. “Harder.”
He chuckled low, the sound vibrating through my chest. “Okay. Now all together.”
I was trembling, nails digging into his back. “Please… harder.”
He stopped moving entirely, buried to the hilt, and lifted his head so I had to meet those storm-dark eyes. “No. You say, ‘Harder please, Daddy.’”