Broken in Beautiful pt.5 (Done)

[Da****]

He didn’t say anything at first.

He just lay there beside me, breath still ragged, one arm thrown over his forehead. The other slid down between us, fingers grazing the angry red marks blooming on my ass. My body buzzed and my nerves were shredded in the most exquisite way. I turned my head to gaze at him. Not his face, instead my eyes traced his stomach and chest, focusing on the rise and fall of his even breathing. I used his calmness to center myself; grounding my high and heady head.

I twitched, wincing slightly.

“You okay?” he asked, low and relaxed.

Taking inventory, I nodded slowly, and gave him a side smile, “Somehow, I think I'm okay Daddy, I just might limp later to be dramatic.”

He grinned, and allowed a low rumble through his chest before it broke into a wicked laugh that sent a delicious ache through me.

“Good, Pet,” he said approvingly, “I want you to feel my touch for a while.”

“I feel it now.” I scoffed, shaking my head,

He smirked and reached over to give my ass a light slap, more a punctuation than a threat.

“Don't be getting ahead of yourself.”

I made a sound that might’ve been a laugh if my throat weren’t still recovering.

He grabbed my chin, tilting my face toward his, and kissed me deep and messy. The kind that left me dizzy and needy all over again; whispering unspoken promises of another round, another night, and another fall.

I breathed in deeply, comforted by the heat of his skin and the scent of us intermingled. 

But the moment couldn’t last.

I felt the clock ticking behind my ribs. Life was waiting and responsibilities were literally calling. A shift back to the mundane, though my body still sang with what we’d done.

“I need to go,” I said quietly, reluctantly.

He didn’t argue. Just nodded and sat up beside me. He handed me my clothes, one piece at a time, pausing now and then to brush his knuckles across my thighs or tap his fingers along the marks he’d left.

Once I was dressed, he walked me to the door. No promises. No sweet farewells.

“You’ll be thinking about this tomorrow,” he said, not a question.

I smiled, lips swollen, legs still trembling.

“I already am.”

He tilted his head, just slightly. “Good girl.”

The door shut behind me with a small click. The night was still, and quiet; the world oblivious to the exoerience we just shared. I felt wrecked in ways I’d never admit in daylight.

But I was smiling.

Not sweet. Not soft.

Sated.

Used.

Seen.

Not in a romantic sense. No, definitely not in some fairytale way.

Just... understood. For who I was in that moment. For what I needed.

And he hadn’t flinched.

I walked to my car on unsteady legs, my body thrumming with the echo of his grip still wrapped around my waist. My holes were sore. My skin was stinging. I had spit drying on my back and slick drying between my thighs. But none of it made me feel small.

It made me feel known.

And for now, that was enough.

Beautiful. ♡