Yes, Daddy!

Chase could barely see straight. His pulse thundered in his ears louder than the music still thumping from the gym speakers outside. His hand was wrapped around Riley's, tugging her along like a lifeline, like if he let go even for a second the unbearable ache in his body would swallow him whole.

He should have been embarrassed. He should have worried about who was watching as he dragged her toward the little utility room at the back of the gym. But the subliminal whispers Isabelle had planted in his phone had hollowed out those concerns. The risk only made the heat burn hotter. The only thing he could think about was relief—and Riley. Always Riley.

The door clicked shut behind them and Chase turned, breath ragged, every muscle tight with restraint. Riley was smiling at him, soft and knowing, as if she could feel the storm boiling in his chest.

"Baby," she whispered, stepping closer until her body pressed lightly to his. Her hands slid up his arms, squeezing, coaxing. "You're so tense. Let me help."

Chase's head fell forward against her shoulder. He groaned, low and ****, and Riley shushed him gently, stroking the back of his neck like she was soothing a wild thing. She tilted her face up, catching his eyes with a mix of innocence and mischief that undid him.

"You don't have to hold back,' Riley breathed. "Not with me. I'm yours. Always yours."

That did it. Chase's control snapped, and he kissed her—hard, hungry, the taste of sweat and sweetness filling his mouth. Riley seemed to melt into it, pliant and eager, giving herself to him without hesitation. Her lips parted wider, inviting him in deeper, and her little sighs only stoked the fire already raging in his veins.

His hands roamed her body—hips, waist, the curve of her ass—and every movement was met with encouragement. Riley arched into his touch, whispered praise against his lips, murmured how much she wanted him, how good he made her feel. It wasn't just sex. It was devotion.

Chase pulled back just enough to look at her, chest heaving. "Riley, I—"

She pressed a finger to his lips, smiling that wicked-sweet smile. "Don't think, baby. Just take me. That's what I'm here for."

The words wrecked him. The heat between them was unbearable now, pressing in from every angle, and Chase knew—knew with bone-deep certainty—that he couldn’t last much longer without giving in completely. He didn't want to.

Pushing her away from him, he turned her around and bent her over a stack of cardboard boxes. Aggressively, Chase pulled down Riley's shorts, seemingly painted on, until they were pooled at her feet. The move would have been something Chase would have never done before, knowing full well how frightening this level of sexual aggression could be for an intimate partner. Not for Riley, though, as she wiggled her ass toward him, inviting him in.

Next came Chase's own shorts, followed by his underwear. He grabbed her by the hips and brought himself in, his erection pressing between her ass cheeks.

"Oh, baby," Riley cooed, as she pressed back into him. "I think my big man needs me to take care of him."

In that moment Chase realized that he could never be with anyone else. Riley was his, and he was hers. No other woman could ever compare to the intense attraction, affection, and need that she could elicit in him. She was so much more than a woman. She was a goddess.

"Call me 'Daddy'," he whispered into her ear as he pressed himself into her as deeply as he could, his inhibitions now completely gone.

"Yes, Daddy!" Riley squealed, shaking in pleasure as he penetrated her. "Yes, Daddy! Yes, Daddy!"

Chase knew that he should shush her, but he no longer cared. He wanted the world to know that she was his, that he was hers, and how far they would go together, wherever they were.