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Make Me Yours, Devil Daddy Novel Cover

Make Me Yours, Devil Daddy

She thought her constant hunger was a problem—until the night her parents left town and Tristan Desmond caught her touching herself, moaning his name. He is her father's cousin, the man she should never want, yet no one else has ever made her burn like this. What began as forbidden lust soon deepens into something far more dangerous: love. She vows to be selfish, to claim him no matter the cost. But Tristan is not the ordinary uncle she believes him to be. Buried beneath his cold exterior lies a dark past and a monstrous truth—he rips souls from living bodies. He is no good man. Still, she craves him more, determined to possess his body and his very soul.
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Chapter 3

Maya

My eyelashes fluttered as his hot breath washed over my face. His exhale felt  like a spark against my already feverish skin. Slowly, I lifted my gaze to meet his. Those endless black eyes that always looked right through me, even in my wildest fantasies.

For one dizzying second, the alcohol haze snapped away like brittle glass. This felt... real.

Too real. The solid warmth of his body pinning me to the couch, the heavy press of his hardness right against my soaked pussy through the thin, drenched lace of my thong- there was no way a dream could feel this vivid, this heavy and probably this aching. 

My heart stuttered.  If this wasn't a dream... God, if this was actually happening...

I didn't care. I wanted more. I needed more. Of him. 

I'd never let anyone touch me before. I had never been kissed, never been fucked, never even let a guy get close enough to try. Every time someone leaned in, something inside me recoiled and pushed them away because the only one I wanted was here, in my dream.

But tonight my body wasn't listening to reason anymore. It was screaming. It was aching, throbbing, dripping, all for him. 

This wasn't just the vodka. This was years of buried longing clawing its way out, refusing to stay silent any longer.

My chest rose and fell in sharp, uneven bursts. His face was just inches away from mine and our breaths tangled together in the tiny space between our mouths. 

My whole body arched up instinctively, pressing closer, chasing that intoxicating heat radiating off him. A shuddering sigh slipped past my lips as I felt the thick outline of his cock shift against me. So hard, insistent, promising.

No one had ever made me this wet. Not with touches, not with words, not with anything. Only the thought of him. Only the dream of him, had me dripping hard.

I gasped softly and lifted a trembling hand to his neck. My nails grazed the warm skin just under his jaw, feeling the faint stubble, the steady pulse beneath. 

Fuck, He felt so warm and .... Real..

 He slowly straightened but was still kneeling between my spread thighs, towering over me even like this with his huge body.

Slowly, my hand moved on its own and drifted lower, curious and desperate. My fingers traced the front of his sweatpants, following the rigid length straining against the soft fabric. 

The moment my palm cupped him, I gasped. " So... big. "

I felt it, I felt him. Thick. Long. Hot even through the cotton. He twitched hard under my touch, a low sound rumbling in his chest. It felt so fucking hot. 

Before I could explore more, his huge hand shot out and caught my wrists in an iron grip. In one swift motion he pushed my arm back, pinning it above my head against the couch. 

I gasped as his full weight settled over me again and he was now, chest to chest, hips aligned, his cock hovering so close to where I was burning for him.

My body tensed. The position felt filthy and exposed and so fucking tempting all at once. So fucking tempting that I wanted him to just take me in that position and fuck me till I was nothing but a breeding mess for him.

He caught my other wrist with the same hand, trapping both above my head. His free hand moved to my throat. I gasped as I felt his huge palm wrapping around the delicate column of my neck. 

Not squeezing. Just... holding. A Firm and Possessive grip. A whimper spilled out of me before I could stop it.

My eyes fluttered up and I watched his jaw clench so tight a muscle jumped in his cheek. Restraint flickered in his eyes, but it was fraying- thin, brittle, about to snap.

Fuck. This dream was getting wilder by the second. And I was loving every filthy moment of it.

My wetness was dripping now- sliding down from my pussy to the sensitive skin below, making me squirm. My pussy throbbed and unknowingly clenched, as more of my wetness oozed out. 

I swallowed hard. My lips parted on a shaky breath as his gaze dropped to my chest- watching the frantic rise and fall, the way my nipples strained painfully against the black lace.

"Are you aware of what you're doing?" His voice came out deep, rough, gravel dragged over silk. It sent shivers racing straight to my core.

My breath hitched. Without thinking, I nodded. A small, quick, needy nod.  "I need words, princess." 

So fucking dominating. My whole body clenched at the command in his tone. His voice was low, authoritative, impossible to disobey.

I bit my lower lip, savoring the sting, and my hips bucked up on instinct, chasing friction. But his free hand shot to my thigh, pinning my hips back down to the couch with effortless strength as a broken whimper tore out of me.

I felt like a desperate bitch in heat. 

His fingers moved- slow and deliberate, scratching lightly up the soft skin of my inner thigh. My eyes enlarged slightly and I gasped, thighs trembling.

Fuck, this dream was so sensual. So real. Was alcohol supposed to make dreams feel like this?

"What do you want, princess?" He raised one dark brow, waiting. I fought the desperation clawing up my throat, but the words tumbled out anyway. So raw, honest and shameless but I did not care. 

"I-I need you, Daddy."

The word slipped past my lips like it had been waiting there forever. I bit my lip again, eyes glassy and stared up at him.

"I want to feel you, Daddy. I want to be touched... and fucked... by you."

I watched as he let out a shaky sigh- almost pained. I could see the leash on his control cracking, splintering. Holy shit. He looked devastating like this. Like restrained violence and raw hunger all wrapped in that perfect, terrifying package.

"Who gave you permission to go out and get drunk?" His tone shifted to much darker, colder. My heart skipped a beat. Something in his voice made me feel tiny, small, cared for and punished all at once.

My body reacted instantly and I tried to close my legs, to rub my thighs together for relief- but he refused to let me. His knee kept me spread open. "Answer me, princess."

My skin prickled. My whole body twitched under the weight of that commanding drop in his voice and that intense wild gaze. 

"N-no one, Daddy," I managed to whisper.

He leaned back slightly and released my wrists. He raked his long fingers through his damp hair, leaving it even more tousled. The motion made every muscle in his arms and chest flex, making me throb and ache for more. 

"Since you broke a rule and went out alone..." His eyes locked on mine, dark and merciless. "You need to be punished."

He paused, letting the words sink in.

"Raw. And hard."

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