Make Me Moan, Daddy-Chapter 95

REINA

The impact wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t planned. It wasn’t slow.

One second I was laughing, breathless, half-annoyed and half-too-aware of him looming over me, and the next—his weight shifted, the sofa dipped, and his mouth crashed into mine.

Hard.

Everything went quiet.

Not the room. Not the world. Just me.

My body froze like it didn’t know what to do with the sudden pressure of his lips, warm and firm and very real. His breath hitched against my mouth, sharp and surprised, like he hadn’t meant for it to happen either.

We didn’t move. Didn’t pull away. Didn’t deepen it.

We just... stayed there.

His hands were braced on either side of me, caging me in without actually touching anything else. My palms were flattened against his chest, fingers curled into his shirt like I needed something solid to hold on to.

This wasn’t a kiss. It was just a collision. And it felt dangerous.

I could feel his heartbeat through his chest, fast and heavy, like mine. His lips were still pressed to mine, not moving, not claiming—just there. Breathing me in. Letting the moment stretch until it started to burn.

I should have pushed him off.

I should have said something sharp. Something defensive. Something that reminded us both of every reason this was wrong.

Instead, my lips parted on a shaky inhale.

His breath caught immediately.

That tiny sound—barely there—did something to me. Something deep and traitorous. I felt it in my stomach first, then lower, then everywhere at once, like my body had already made a decision my mind hadn’t caught up to.

"Reina," he murmured.

Just my name. Low. Rough. Like it cost him something to say it.

I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. "Get off me."

It came out weak. Not convincing. Not even close. Because I knew I wasn’t fooling anyone.

His forehead dropped to mine, noses brushing, lips still ghosting over my own with every breath we took. "I will," he said quietly. "Say it like you mean it."

I hated him for that.

I hated that he knew I couldn’t.

I hated that my hands didn’t shove him away. That my legs didn’t kick him off the sofa. That instead, my fingers tightened just slightly against his chest, betraying me.

"I mean it," I whispered.

"Mm," he hummed, not moving. "You don’t."

The air between us felt thick, charged, like one wrong move would snap something in half. His gaze dropped to my mouth, then lifted back to my eyes, dark and searching.

This close, I could see everything.

The restraint in his jaw. The tension in his shoulders. The way he was holding himself back like it physically hurt.

That scared me more than if he hadn’t.

"You shouldn’t look at me like that," I said, trying—failing—to sound steady.

"Like what?"

"Like you’re thinking things."

A corner of his mouth twitched. "Baby," he murmured, voice soft and dangerous, "I’m always thinking things when you’re involved."

My breath stuttered.

His thumb brushed my wrist—barely a touch, more of a question than a move—and the shock of it shot straight through me. I sucked in a sharp breath, and that was all it took.

The space between us disappeared. Not rushed. Not frantic. Just inevitable.

And the moment his mouth finally moved against mine, every thought I had shattered at once.

The kiss started careful, almost polite, like we were both waiting for the other to pull away.

Neither of us did.

Domenico’s mouth moved against mine slowly at first, savoring, as if he were memorizing every soft sound I made. His lips were warm, firm, coaxing mine apart with gentle pressure until I opened for him further.

The moment his tongue slid against mine, slow and deliberate, a shiver raced down my spine. He tasted like red wine and something darker—pure, unfiltered want.

I felt the exact second his restraint cracked.

His hands cupped my jaw, thumbs stroking along my cheekbones as he tilted my head exactly where he needed it. The kiss turned hungry, devouring. His tongue stroked deep, curling against mine, drawing out a helpless moan that he swallowed greedily.

I clutched his forearms, nails digging in, anchoring myself as heat flooded every inch of my body.

He pressed impossibly closer, settling fully between my thighs. The hard length of him dragged against my bare pussy through the thin fabric of his trousers, and the friction tore a gasp from my throat. He took the sound into his mouth, sucking gently on my tongue until my hips rolled up on instinct, seeking more.

"Reina," he rasped against my lips, voice rough with need. "You have no idea what you do to me."

I couldn’t form words. I just dragged him back down, kissing him harder, biting his bottom lip until he groaned low and filthy. The sound vibrated through my chest and pooled hot and liquid between my legs.

His hands left my face, gliding down my neck, over my collarbones, until he cupped my breasts fully. He squeezed, slow and possessive, thumbs circling my nipples until they ached.

Every brush of his fingers sent sparks straight to my clit. I arched into his touch, whimpering when he rolled the tight peaks between his fingers, tugging just hard enough to make me gasp.

He broke the kiss only to trail his mouth down my throat, open-mouthed and hot, sucking marks into my skin that I knew I’d feel tomorrow. I tilted my head back, giving him everything, fingers threading through his thick hair to hold him there.

"Domenico," I breathed, the plea slipping out before I could stop it.

It was embarrassing, but did I really care about how fucking needy I sounded right now? I fucking don’t!

"Yes, love?"

He answered by shifting lower, lips closing around one nipple. He sucked hard, tongue flicking fast, teeth grazing just enough to make me cry out.