The morning light had barely breached the curtains when I awoke to the familiar, intoxicating heat of Conley beside me. His hands traced every curve of my body, leaving trails of fire in their wake. I gasped, arching into him as his lips pressed firmly against my neck, each kiss a claim, each touch a reminder of his dominance.
“Good girl,” he murmured, voice low and rough, thick with need. “You’re all mine.”
“Yes… Daddy…” I whispered, trembling beneath him. “Completely… yours…”
His hands moved with practiced precision, every touch igniting sparks that raced through my veins. The morning was ours alone, private and intense, a storm of lust and dominance that left me shivering and gasping. My body responded instinctively to him, arching, clinging, surrendering completely as heat pooled lo
