Make Me Moan, Daddy

REINA

I didn't get into the shower because I needed to be clean.

I stepped in because I was throbbing. Aching. So wet between my legs it was almost painful.

I needed release-fast, deep, mind-numbing release-and I knew I wasn't getting it from the man I married. Paolo hadn't touched me since our wedding night. Not even once.

Two years of cold stares, polite kisses on the forehead, and stiff goodnights.

So fuck him.

The second the hot water hit my skin, I dropped the act. I wasn't going to waste time pretending to enjoy the steam or the scent of my overpriced vanilla body wash. My fingers were already between my thighs, spreading clit, searching for that one spot that always made me twitch.

I leaned my back against the marble wall of the bathroom, head tilted back, mouth already parting on a sigh. My nipples hardened the second I rolled my palm over one breast, tweaking the peak as the other hand worked lower. My thighs tensed and I moaned quietly, slow and low. I didn't want to be loud. Not yet.

I tried, as I always did, to imagine Paolo.

To be a good wife.

To pretend he was the one making me feel this way.

I pictured him walking in, seeing me naked and glistening under the spray. Dropping his tie, muttering my name like he couldn't hold back anymore. That should've made my fingers move faster.

But it didn't.

Never did.

My body knew better.

The second I saw his face in my head, my clit went numb. Like my brain just shut it off. Cold. Unresponsive. Just like him.

"Fuck." I groaned in frustration and shut my eyes tighter.

No. Not him.

That's not what worked.

It was always someone else.

It was always him.

Domenico.

My father-in-law.

God help me, the only man who ever made me feel wanted.

My fingers picked up pace instantly. My body lit up. The difference was night and fucking day. I imagined him-tall, sharp, super hot, sinfully sexy, terrifying Domenico-standing in the doorway, suit soaked from the spray, hair dripping, jaw clenched as he looked at me like he was going to punish me for even daring to touch myself.

"Fuck! Hmmph!"

I moaned louder, back arching under the water. Toes curling.

His eyes. Cold black orbs that never looked away when I spoke. The way his stare dragged down my body like he could see through my clothes, even when I wore nothing but his son's name. The way he filled a room; silent, dangerous, commanding.

I squeezed my breast harder. Rubbed faster.

I imagined him pinning me to the glass, not saying a word. Just pulling his belt off slowly while I panted, needy and dripping, trembling for him like a stupid little whore.

Like those sluts he always brought home in his building every night.

I fucking hate them.

Hated those sluts so much.

"Fuck! Don't stop, Daddy!"

My pussy got wetter calling my