Daddy's Perfume

I can't stop wearing it. Can't stop. The heat that blooms where I apply it. The ache that follows.

Four days. Just me and the man of the house.

I steal his shirts. Press them to my face at night. Let his scent pull me under until I'm gasping and shaking and utterly undone.

He watches me across the kitchen. Grey eyes dropping half a second too long. That small smile.

Where'd you go?

Nowhere. Nowhere but him.

And then his mouth finds mine in the study. His hands everywhere. His voice low and dark.

Tell me what you want.

I've never been touched. Never been claimed. Never surrendered to anyone.

But him? I surrender completely.

The man of the house takes what's his. On leather. In tangled sheets. Under hot water. Again and again until I'm wrecked and remade and his.

Who do you belong to?

Him. Only him. Forever.

Some cravings live in your blood, in your scent.

For some men, you just...open.

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