Please Me Daddy (Gracie) novel Chapter 57

**Across Distant Skies Lies Hope Waiting To Be Found by Kade Rowan Flint 57**

**Wet it**

Grace

A small whimper slipped from my lips, involuntarily escaping as the antiseptic made contact with the cut on my forehead. The sting was sharp and immediate, yet what caught me off guard more than the pain was the unexpected gentleness with which he treated my wound.

Apollo Reed, the man I had long believed to be as unyielding as ice and as impenetrable as stone, was tending to my injury with a delicacy that left me momentarily speechless. His hands moved with precision, as though I were a fragile piece of glass that could shatter at any moment.

In that fleeting moment, a swirl of emotions coursed through me, leaving me uncertain of how to react.

I had come here tonight under the pretense that it would be merely a physical encounter—nothing more than a brief dalliance devoid of any tenderness or afterthought. I had imagined he would take what he desired and leave me in the aftermath, just a fleeting memory in his mind. Yet here he was, standing close, meticulously dabbing the cut on my forehead with soft cotton, disposing of each bloodied piece in the trash without uttering a single word.

I found myself transfixed, my gaze locked onto his hands.

They were long and capable, calloused in all the right places, with thick veins running along the backs, a testament to hard work and skill. His sleeves were rolled up to his forearms, the dark fabric pushed high enough to reveal the strength beneath. I recalled how Eleanor would swoon when she spoke of Wyatt, her eyes sparkling with admiration.

She often claimed that witnessing a man at work with his hands was one of the most underrated forms of attraction.

At the time, I hadn’t quite understood her sentiment, but now, in this moment, it resonated deeply within me. Perhaps it was because Wyatt had always felt like an older brother, someone I could rely on for guidance. Or maybe, just maybe, Apollo was simply different. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.

The way his fingers moved, so steady and assured, sent a shiver down my spine. I bit my lip, my eyes flickering between his face and his hands as he peeled the bandage from its packet.

Those very fingers that had once explored me intimately now hovered over my skin, igniting a heat within me that pulsed with every heartbeat.

He leaned closer, gently pressing the bandage onto the cut, his touch both soothing and electrifying. As he pulled back, he murmured something low, his words barely audible, slipping past me like a whisper in the wind.

I nodded instinctively, “Yes.”

The truth was, I hadn’t even caught what he said. At that moment, he could have asked me to barter my soul, and I would have done so without hesitation. Whatever he had uttered, I was certain he was right.

I noticed the way his brow arched, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes. “You’re still hurt?”

I blinked, shaken from the daze that had enveloped me, and quickly shook my head. “N-no. Of course not. I’m fine.”

“Good,” he replied, his voice low and enigmatic. “Because I don’t think I can be patient anymore.”

My stomach plummeted at his words.

“What—?”

I looked up at him, confusion swirling in my mind, my mouth parting to question his intent. But before I could articulate a single word, his hand moved with decisive intent.

In one fluid motion, he swept the first aid kit off the desk. The sound of it crashing to the floor barely registered before I felt his hands on me again—one gripping my waist, pulling me to the edge of the table, while the other slid up, wrapping gently around the side of my neck.

My heart raced, caught in a whirlwind of anticipation and desire.

Just when I thought I couldn’t endure any more, I felt his thumb brush against my panties, pressing gently through the delicate fabric.

I gasped, the sound escaping me louder than before. “Oh my god…”

My head fell back, but his hand at my neck kept me anchored, preventing any escape. I could hardly catch my breath as he pulled back slightly.

Opening my eyes, I found him staring at me, his hazel eyes darkened to nearly black, smoldering with an intensity that held me captive. His chest rose and fell with a frantic rhythm, and he looked wild—like a force of nature barely containing himself. I wanted nothing more than for him to lose that control.

I reached for his shirt, gripping the fabric tightly. “Please…”

A smirk danced across his lips, a flicker of amusement lighting his features.

“I thought by now you’d be begging me to stop,” he teased.

I shook my head fervently. “No, please… continue.”

He held my gaze, intrigued and unyielding. Without breaking our connection, he slid his fingers beneath the band of my panties, pulling them down slowly. The soft white lace pooled around my feet, and a rush of cold air swept between my thighs. For a fleeting moment, I should have felt embarrassed—sitting on his desk, naked from the waist down, completely exposed before my boss. But instead, I felt nothing but desire, an overwhelming sense of longing coursing through me.

He lifted a hand, gently cupping my chin, tilting my face until our eyes met once more. Then, with deliberate slowness, he brought the same fingers I had watched earlier toward my mouth.

His voice was low, commanding, and filled with an undeniable authority.

“Wet it.”