Claiming His Babygirl: BBW Daddy Dom Romance by Cameron Hart

Author:Cameron Hart [Hart, Cameron]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Cameron Hart
Published: 2021-04-22T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

Arabella

I gasp for air as I sit up in bed, shaking and sweating and so, so close to coming. I’m confused and disoriented as I smooth my hair away from my face. My core is throbbing so hard it hurts every time I take a breath.

Looking around, I notice I’m not even in my own room. I’m in the guest bedroom we set up for Cristiano.

Cristiano.

Daddy.

I reach out, expecting to find him buried under the pile of blankets next to me, but the bed is empty. Flopping back down on the mattress, I heave out a sigh, a smile lingering on my lips. Am I really going to get everything I’ve ever wanted? Could the rough, sexy-as-sin older man fulfill the promises he made last night?

He promised to take care of me, to take care of everything. Cristiano said he’d protect me and provide for me, all I had to do was surrender. Surrender to my Daddy.

My spine tingles and my pussy flutters at the thought of that word. Daddy. It’s all kinds of messed up, but when we’re together, it doesn’t feel wrong. It feels perfect. Special. Real. So real.

Pots and pans clang around in the kitchen and the smell of fresh coffee curls around me. He’s making breakfast for me, providing for me just like he said he would. It might seem like a small, insignificant thing, but knowing Cristiano cares about what I eat makes me feel special and loved in a way I didn’t know I needed.

I swing my legs over the side of the bed and stretch, wincing slightly at the soreness in my bottom. It doesn’t hurt, though. Not in a bad way. As messed up as it is, I like it. I like feeling his handprint on my skin, searing through me and reminding me who I belong to.

I look around the room for something to slip on, seeing as my dress and panties were disposed of rather roughly last night. I bite my bottom lip and blush just thinking about the way he handled me. He touched me like he owned me, like it was his right to make me cry, make me come, make me fall apart completely.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see the white button-down shirt Cristiano was wearing last night. I'm worried it might not fit—I'm not a small girl, after all—but the shirt is huge, nearly hanging down to my knees.

Padding out into the kitchen, I stop short when I see a shirtless Cristiano digging around in the cupboards. His muscles tense and flex beneath his tanned skin, making his tattoos dance. I lean against the doorway to the kitchen, watching the powerful man move gracefully around the room. As if sensing my presence, Cristiano pauses, his back going straight as he lifts his head and turns around slowly.

His intense gaze meets mine, making my breath hitch. Cristiano trails his eyes up and down my body, his nostrils flaring as he takes in my outfit.

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