Make Me Moan, Daddy-Chapter 13

REINA

"We... We..." We should stop!

I wanted to stop him—God, I wanted to stop him—but the word caught in my throat, trembling there like a secret.

My palms were flat against the table, trembling, the cool wood biting into my skin as his weight pinned me down. His heat was everywhere, searing through my clothes, his scent drowning out my thoughts until there was nothing left but him.

This was insanity. I knew it.

But I couldn’t move.

Couldn’t speak.

Couldn’t even breathe without tasting him.

"W-we can’t..." The protest broke from my lips in a whisper, ragged and weak. "We can’t... Fuck!" I gasped as his hand slid lower, rough and unyielding, making my body arch helplessly.

My teeth clamped down on my lower lip, desperate to swallow the moan clawing its way up my throat.

But Daddy had other plans.

Daddy always had other plans.

He wasn’t just touching me; he was claiming me, coaxing every sound from me like a man peeling away my last defenses. Each drag of his palm, each hot breath against my neck was a command my body obeyed without my permission.

It was deliberate, ruthless, the kind of touch that made shame and hunger blur together until I didn’t know where one ended and the other began.

And as his fingers dug into my hips, forcing me to arch for him, I realized the truth: he wasn’t going to stop until every moan, every whimper, every breath was his.

His hands slid higher, pushing the fabric of my dress up over my hips until it bunched at my waist. The cool air kissed my bare thighs, but his palms were hot, claiming, squeezing the soft flesh as though he’d been waiting for this moment all morning.

"You’re already shaking," he said in a harsh grunt, his voice low, almost amused.

I bit my lip a little bit harder, refusing to answer, but the tremor in my legs betrayed me.

He leaned in, his breath warm against my ear. "It’s because you’ve been thinking about me since last night, isn’t it?" he teased, grinning at me as if he knew he already had me exactly where he always wanted me.

"I can feel your excitement, princess," he murmured against my ear, his voice thick with hunger. "I bet the thought of me doing this to you has been haunting your dreams. You’d lie there beside your husband, pretending to be asleep, but I know what really kept you awake. The thought of me—my hands on you, my mouth on you—driving you insane."

He moaned the words. God, Domenico Gravano actually moaned them, like he couldn’t contain the pleasure of just saying it. The sound vibrated through my spine, deep and sinful, curling low in my stomach until I was trembling.

His voice wasn’t just seductive—it was a spell. Each word rolled over me like heat, teasing, commanding, dragging every hidden craving to the surface. And fuck... it worked.

My body betrayed me. I could feel the slickness between my thighs, the heat pulsing there, my breath catching as his words melted into my skin. I was dripping—dripping for him—just from the way he said my name.

I am a slut for daddy! I swear I am.

My nails dug into the table. "Stop—"

"Stop what?" His fingers slid along the inside of my thigh, so close that my muscles tensed on instinct. "Stop making you wet? Stop giving you what your husband never can?"

I gasped when his fingertips brushed against my chest. The thin lace of my bra did nothing to hide how hard my nipples had grown beneath his touch, and I knew he could feel it—knew he was savoring every tremor that ran through me.

His hand didn’t stop there. With a low, guttural sound, he slipped his fingers beneath the fabric, dragging his knuckles against my bare skin until they found what they were looking for.

"Fuck," he breathed, his lips curving into a dark smile. "Look at you," he murmured, his thumb tracing slow, deliberate circles over her chest, each touch a silent claim. "So ready for me—and we’re not even halfway through breakfast."

He kissed me again, deeper this time, his tongue pushing into my mouth with deliberate strokes. I kissed him back without thinking, my arms winding around his neck, my body arching into his.

He pulled back just enough to speak, his lips dragging over my jaw. "I could make you come right here. Right on this table. And you’d let me."

I hated how true it was.

His hand moved lower, cupping my breast through the lace instead. The warmth of his palm made me gasp, my back arching before I could stop myself. He groaned, his thumb brushing slow, possessive circles over the fabric, feeling the way my body responded to every touch.

The friction between us grew electric, his breath hot against my ear as he leaned closer, whispering things that made my pulse race even faster.

"You’re trembling," he murmured, his mouth finding the sensitive spot just below my ear. He bit it, sharp enough to make me moan. "You’ve been starving for this since you woke up this morning, right? You’re hungry for my touch, not for any food."

His thumb slid over the thin fabric, finding my hard nipple and circling it slowly. I bit down on my moan, but my hips moved, chasing the friction.

"Say it," he ordered softly. "Say you want me to play with you. To satisfy your hunger."

I shook my head, but it was useless. The way he was touching me made it impossible to think.

His fingers pressed harder, rolling my nipple in slow, torturous circles. "Say it, or I’ll stop."

"You won’t," I whispered.

His chuckle was low, dangerous. "You think I won’t? You’re wrong, bella."

Then he stopped. Just like that. His hand dropped to my thigh, his mouth pulling away, leaving me desperate and breathless.

I reached for him, a frustrated sound breaking from my throat. "Domenico—"

His gaze snapped to mine, dark and commanding. "It’s Daddy to you," he said, his voice sharp enough to cut the air.

The authority in his tone made my whole body tighten. A shiver raced through me—half fear, half need—as he leaned closer, his breath brushing my ear. The reprimand stung, but the way he said it, the rough possessiveness in his voice, sent heat rushing through my veins.

"Shit... Daddy," I whispered, the word trembling off my lips before I could stop it.

"There it is," he murmured, his eyes locking on mine with that dark, devastating intensity that always undid me. "That pretty voice," he said slowly, savoring every word like a promise. "Say it again. This time, say it properly. Say you want me."

My throat was dry, my chest rising and falling too fast. "I... I want you," I breathed, the words slipping out like a confession I’d kept buried too long.

His expression hardened. "Not good enough."

The command in his voice cut straight through me. I swallowed, trembling as the air between us thickened, charged and unrelenting. "I want you, Daddy!" The word tore from me, raw and desperate. "Fuck— I want you, daddy."

And then he smiled—slowly, deliberately—the kind of smile that said he already knew he’d broken every bit of resistance I had left. He tilted his head, eyes gleaming with pride and possession.

"Good girl," he whispered, his voice low and rough enough to make my knees go weak.

His hand trailed down, fingers slipping between my thighs—then stopped.

I froze.

A low, dangerous chuckle rumbled from his chest as his eyes flicked up to mine. "Well, well... no panties?" he drawled, his voice dripping with dark amusement. "Tell me, princess—was that for me?"

My breath hitched, every nerve in my body sparking under his gaze. I wanted to deny it, to shake my head and pretend it wasn’t true. But deep down, I knew the answer.

It was for him.

It had always been for him.