At that moment, all I wanted was to go to him.
To cross the study floor on shaking legs, drop to my knees in front of that big leather chair, wrap my mouth around the head of his c**k while he gripped my hair and finally—*finally*—gave in.
I wanted him to f**k me good.
Hard.
Deep.
No more almosts. No more running. Just him pinning me to the desk, spreading my thighs wide, sliding that thick, virgin length inside me until I screamed his name and he marked me from the inside out.
In my head, it played out filthy and perfect:
I’d crawl to him, ass up, back arched.
Whisper against his thigh, “I’ll be your little slut, Daddy… punish me the way you want.”
He’d growl that low “Mmmh” again—only this time it’d be surrender.
He’d grab my wrists, tie them behind my back wi
