YES! DADDIES: AN EROTIC COMPILATION OF SHORT STORIES

HIGH RANKING S*X DEMON (3)

ABIGAIL.

Three days passed before Oberin appeared again.

I’d started to think maybe it had all been a stress-induced hallucination.

Maybe I’d had a psychotic break and imagined the whole thing. But the mark on my arm remained, a dark reminder of the contract.

And Tate’s life had started falling apart in spectacular fashion.

His gallery show was vandalized. His car was totaled in a hit-and-run. His biggest patron suddenly pulled funding, citing ‘concerns about artistic integrity’. The art world was starting to whisper about him, questioning his work.

It was exactly what I wanted. So why did I feel so on edge?

I was in the shower when he came.

One moment I was alone, washing shampoo from my hair, the next a hand pressed against the tile beside my head.

I yelped, spinning around to find Oberin in my shower, still fully dressed in that impeccable suit.

“Good morning,” he said pleasantly, water streaming off his shoulders. “Did you miss me?”

“You can’t just—I’m showering!”

“I’m aware.” His eyes traveled down my naked, wet body with obvious appreciation. “The contract says anytime, anywhere. I’m simply exercising my rights.”

“You’re wearing a suit in my shower.”

“An astute observation.” He snapped his fingers, and suddenly he was as naked as I was. “Better?”

So much worse.

In the harsh bathroom light, I could see every sculpted inch of him—miles of golden skin stretched over defined muscle, tattoos that seemed to move when I wasn’t looking directly at them, and the evidence that he was already hard for me.

“Turn around,” Oberin commanded. “Hands on the wall.”

“What are you—”

“I wasn’t asking.” His hand gripped the back of my neck, gently but firmly turning me to face the tile. “Spread your legs. Arch that back. Good girl.”

The praise sent an unwelcome thrill through me. I hated how my body responded to him, how wet I already was just from his presence.

His hands skimmed down my sides, over my hips, gripping my ass and spreading me open. I felt exposed, vulnerable, the water cascading over us as he examined me like I was his property.

“Beautiful,” he murmured. “I’ve been thinking about this cunt for three days. Did you think about me, Abigail? About my c**k inside you?”

I refused to answer, but my silence was damning enough.

Oberin chuckled darkly. “Liar. I can smell your arousal. Your body doesn’t lie even when your mouth does.” He positioned himself at my entrance, the blunt head of his c**k pressing against me. “I’m going to f**k you in your shower, and you’re going to take it like the good little contractor you are.”

He slammed into me in one brutal thrust, and I cried out, my fingers scrabbling against the wet tile.

The angle was deeper this way, more intense, and I felt impossibly full.

“That’s it,” Oberin groaned, his hips snapping against my ass. “Take all of me. f**k, you feel even better than I remembered.”

He f****d me hard and fast, one hand gripping my hip while the other reached around to play with my c**t. The dual sensations were overwhelming—the stretch and drag of him inside me, the precise circles his fingers traced, the hot water adding another layer of sensation.

“I love that I can have you whenever I want,” he growled in my ear. “Middle of the night. Middle of the day. Doesn’t matter. This body is mine to use.”

“It’s just—ah—just s*x,” I gasped, trying to maintain some dignity.

“Is it?” His fingers sped up on my c**t, making my knees weak. “Then why are you so wet for me? Why is your greedy little cunt clenching around me like it never wants to let go?”

I couldn’t answer because he was right, and I hated it. Hated how good he made me feel. Hated how my body craved his touch.

“Come,” Oberin ordered. “Now.”

As if my body obeyed him automatically, I shattered. My orgasm ripped through me, violent and intense, and I would have collapsed if he wasn’t holding me up. He followed seconds later, filling me with that impossible heat.

We stayed like that for a moment, both breathing hard, before he carefully withdrew and turned me around.

To my surprise, his expression was almost tender as he cupped my face. “Three days was too long,” he said quietly. “I’ll be back sooner next time.”

Then he was gone, leaving me alone in the shower with shaking legs and more questions than answers.

That night, I woke to the feeling of my pajama pants being pulled down.

“Wha—Oberin?” I mumbled, still half-asleep.

“Shh.” His voice came from between my legs, and holy f**k, was he—“Go back to sleep. I’m just taking what’s mine.”

Before I could protest, his mouth was on me.

His tongue was wicked, tracing patterns that made my back arch off the bed. He licked and sucked and f****d me with his tongue until I was writhing, my hands fisted in his hair.

“Oberin, please,” I whimpered.

“Please what?” He pulled back just enough to speak. “Please stop? Please continue? Use your words.”

“Don’t stop,” I admitted, shame burning through me. “Please don’t stop.”

“Much better.” He dove back in with renewed enthusiasm, and I came so hard I saw stars, my thighs clamping around his head as I rode out the waves of pleasure.

When I came back to myself, Oberin was lying beside me, propped up on one elbow, watching me with those color-shifting eyes.

“You taste incredible when you’re barely awake,” he said casually. “All soft and pliant and desperate. I think I’ll make a habit of midnight snacks.”

“You’re insane,” I muttered, but there was no heat in it.

“And you’re delicious.” He leaned down to kiss me, and I could taste myself on his lips. “Now go back to sleep. You have a gallery meeting tomorrow, and I need you well-rested.”

“What gallery meeting?”

“You’ll see.” His smile was mysterious. “Things are about to get very interesting for you, Abigail Rivera. Sweet dreams.”

He vanished, leaving me alone in my bed, thoroughly satisfied and completely confused about what was happening to my life.