Nikolai
I heard her before I saw her, the soft slap of ballet flats against the stone hallway, muffled slightly by the runner. Tentative. Light, but steady. She wasn’t tiptoeing—not quite—but she wasn’t strutting either. She was curious, exploring.
The double doors to my office were slightly cracked, just as I’d left them, and I heard the faint shift of her fingers against the brass handle. The door eased open, and then she was standing there, in my doorway, wearing exactly what I’d given her. The red silk dress wrapped around her body just the way I’d imagined it would. It clung to her waist, hugged the soft swell of her hips, dipped low enough at the neckline to show the delicate curve of her collarbone and just a hint of cleavage—not too much, but enough to tease.
Her hair—rich, deep chestnut—fell in soft waves over her shoulders. One lock clung to her throat, and I wanted to reach out and tuck it behind her ear just so I could touch her again, but I didn’t move.
I just let myself look.
Her legs were bare beneath the hem of the dress. Her soft thighs were slightly flushed and, if I looked closely, they were shaking just the tiniest bit.
She looked edible.
And she was nervous.
I saw it in her eyes, emerald green, ringed in gold, wide and questioning. They scanned the room quickly before locking on mine. There was pride there, still, defiance in her spine, but her lips were parted, her breath soft.
She knew what she was wearing. She also knew what she wasn’t wearing.
And that blush creeping up her neck?
That was for me.
I let the silence stretch, let her feel the weight of my stare. Let her wonder what I’d say. Then, slowly, purposefully, I sat back in my chair.
“Good morning, baby girl.”
Her breath caught. I saw it in the slight lift of her chest, the way her lashes fluttered like she wasn’t ready to hear my voice. She didn’t run, didn’t retreat. She just stood there in that perfect red dress, waiting.
I tilted my head slightly. Then I crooked a single finger in her direction.
“Come here.”
She hesitated for only a second, then she walked over to me.
Her steps were quiet. Obedient. The dress shifted with every movement—soft fabric hugging her curves, brushing her thighs, flowing across her hips. It was beautiful, really.
She rounded the desk, and I watched her face the whole time. That blush climbing higher, blooming across her cheeks, her eyes flitting between my face and my chest, like she didn’t know where to look.
She stopped in front of me. I didn’t ask, I just reached for her waist and pulled her gently down into my lap.
She came easily, settling against me like she was always meant to be there. Her thighs pressed to mine, while her arm wound around my neck, the long line of her side pressing against my chest. The hem of her dress shifted again, riding just a little higher, exposing more of her delectable skin.
My hand rested on her hip, fingers trailing the edge of the fabric.
Her breath was coming a little quicker now, shallow. I leaned in, my mouth brushing the shell of her ear.
“Tell me something,” I breathed.
She swallowed hard, and I felt it where our bodies met.
“Are you wearing anything under this dress?”
She tensed just a little in my arms. Then she shook her head. Soft. Submissive. Blushing all over.
“No,” she whispered.
That single word sent a pulse of something dark and primal through me. Not lust, not just that. It went deeper than that.
Total obsession.
I pulled back to look at her, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. Her skin was burning up, her eyes wide and glassy.
She was nervous and I’d never seen anything so beautiful in my life.
“Good girl,” I said softly, dragging my thumb along her jaw, just to feel the tremble in it.
It ruined me.
Completely.
She was so soft in my lap, legs tucked to either side of mine, thighs warm against my jeans. Her back was straight, but her shoulders were slowly relaxing, like her body knew it was safe, even if her mind hadn’t caught up yet.
She smelled like lavender and silk and a flowery sweetness. Roses maybe. The scent clung to the dress I gave her, and knowing she was completely bare beneath it? That there was nothing between me and the skin I punished, the skin I soothed?
It was intoxicating.
I could have sat there for hours, just holding her like that, listening to the rhythm of her breathing shift under my hands. Watching her blush. Watching her try to pretend I wasn’t the one undoing her, one heartbeat at a time.
I tilted my head and looked down at her, really looked at her. She didn’t even realize what she was giving me right then.
Submission without words.
Obedience without chains.
And a trust she hadn’t even admitted she was offering.
God, she was perfect.
And she was all mine.
My fingers drifted from her hip to the bow of the wrap dress, letting the pads of my fingers brush her ribs just enough to make her shiver. Her breath hitched, just slightly, and I felt her body tense. She was already wet again—I would have bet my life on it.
I smiled. She made it too easy.
And too delicious.
“You like wearing my gifts?” I asked, the words soft against her ear.
She nodded slowly, but that wasn’t enough.
“I asked you a question, baby girl.”
A pause.
Then her voice: quiet, breathy, honest.
“Yes, Daddy.”
Goddamn.
I ran my knuckles along the side of her thigh, watching the shiver ripple through her. The dress rode up another inch. She shifted, instinctively pressing her legs tighter together.
I didn’t let her.
“Open,” I ordered.
Her breath caught.
“I said open.”
She obeyed.
Slowly, her knees slid apart, the silk falling between them like a curtain, parting just enough to satisfy me.
“I want you to remember something,” I murmured, my hand sliding slowly up the inside of her thigh, stopping just before I touched her most sensitive place. “Every time you sit like this—every time you feel that silk cling to your skin and nothing underneath—you are going to remember you are mine.”
She let out a shaky breath, eyes fluttering closed for a second.
“And right now,” I added, brushing my lips along her jaw, “you are going to prove it.”
Her lashes lifted slowly.
“How?” she whispered.
I smirked.
“You’re going to ask Daddy to make you come in his lap.”
