Summary: Your relationship with Charles is anything but normal. As your sugar daddy, he is allowed to use you, find pleasure from your body in exchange for presents and company; but when you find yourself entangled in a nest of heartbreak and toxicity caused by him, your entire world collides.
If there was one thing you knew about Charles Leclerc, it was that he had you wrapped around his fingers. No matter the circumstance, the place where the two of you would be standing, or the way he spoke, he always found a way to turn you into the filthiest of sluts for him. No matter what.
You couldn't recall how many times his hands had sent you into a frenzy, or how many times his mouth had been enough to push you over the edge. And his cock? There was no way you could remember.
It almost felt as if Charles Leclerc owned you, and you could tell from the way he was staring at you from the kitchen of his condo, the smirk you knew so well painting his lips. He knew he held a large amount of power over you - something you couldn't even deny - and it made him feel good, dominant.
"Baby girl, come here," he said, catching your attention as he patted the marble island, ordering you to take the spot right in front of him. You knew hesitating would set him off - or even lead to punishment - and just how much he hated waiting, so you sprung to your feet, silently making your way towards him.
His strong arms helped you on top of the counter, his eyes observing you as soon as you came face-to-face, his hands taking place on your hips as he stood between your spread legs. One of his fingers ghosted over the prints he had left on your neck just a few hours prior, throughout the events of the previous night.
"I'm sorry, babe," he whispered, leaning down to press kisses on your shoulder as you sighed, still feeling quite tired. "You should tell me when I'm being too rough,"
"I like it," you mumbled, your heart clenching as you witnessed one of the few moments of sweetness coming from the driver, the ones you had learned to recognize as unusual throughout the months of your arrangement.
"I know you do," Charles smirked, mouth right before your navel as he looked up at you. The sweetness in his eyes had been replaced with a look of hunger, the one you knew so well. The one that was always reserved for you.
It was something Charles did at times: using his sweet side to get you to do what he wanted, which - more than often - was sex. That morning, it wasn't any different. He pushed your sweatpants down your legs, your lack of underwear making him chuckle.
"Mh, look at you," he whispered, letting the pad of his finger run through your folds, making you whine. You still felt sore, flashbacks of the previous night sending you into a frenzy as he kept his administration on your heat.
"You gonna cum for me, baby? Gonna cum for daddy?" He was grunting in your ear, his hips slapping against yours at such a fast pace you struggled to hold back your moans. "Answer me,"
"Yes," you breathed out, fingernails clawing at his back as his thrusts became more forceful, the pain quickly disguised into pleasure by your own body. Just as you were about to reach the edge and let your body relax with an earth-shattering orgasm, he pulled out, starting to edge you from that moment on.
"This is what happens when you talk back to me," he stated, wrapping a hand around your neck and putting pressure to its sides. "Take your punishment like a good girl, and you'll get to cum,"
"Yes, daddy,"
Charles pushed your legs over his shoulders, dipping down to suck a few kisses on your outer lips, his light orbs staring deeply into yours as he smirked your way. He knew what he was doing, and he knew just how quickly you were going to cum, since you were still sensitive.
