Page 40 of Demon Daddy's Little Girl

His hand cups my cheek, thumb tracing my jawline. The heat of his skin sends shivers down my spine. Without warning, he pulls me against his chest. The solidness of him surrounds me - all warmth and strength and safety.

"Ada." My name rumbles through his chest. I see so many unspoken words on his face, and I know that we both have so many things holding us back - things we don't want to get in the way anymore.

His lips find mine, not gentle like our first kiss, but hungry. Demanding. His fingers tangle in my braid as he deepens the kiss. I melt into him, my hands gripping the fabric of his shirt.

When he breaks away, his eyes burn like molten gold. He takes my hand, his massive fingers engulfing mine.

"Come with me." It's not a request.

I follow him through the moonlit house, up the stairs, my heart thundering against my ribs. He leads me to his bedroom door and pauses, searching my face.

"Yes," I breathe, before he can ask.

The door closes behind us with a soft click.

His hands grip my waist, lifting me like I weigh nothing. My back presses against the door as he pins me there, his mouth claiming mine. The taste of him fills my senses. My fingers claw at the fabric of his shirt, desperate to feel his skin, to erase any barrier between us.

"Off," I gasp against his lips, tugging at the hem. "Take it off."

He pulls back just enough to yank the tunic over his head, tossing it aside. His chest is a landscape of hard muscle and old scars, and I can’t help but trace the lines with trembling fingers. He growls low, a sound that vibrates through me, and his hands are back on me, sliding under my dress.

"Yours too," he demands, his voice rough, almost feral.

I don’t hesitate. I pull the simple dress over my head, letting it fall to the floor. The cool air brushes against my skin, nobra beneath it, but his gaze burns hotter, raking over me like he’s memorizing every curve. His hands follow his eyes, rough calluses dragging over my hips, my waist, my thighs, leaving fire in their wake.

He carries me to the bed, his strength effortless, and lays me down like I’m something precious. The sheets are cool beneath me, but his body is a furnace as he hovers above. His lips trail down my neck, nipping at the sensitive skin near my collarbone, and I arch into him, my breath hitching.

"Dezoth," I whisper, my voice trembling.

He doesn’t answer with words. Instead, his mouth moves lower, kissing a path down my stomach, his tongue flicking against my skin. His hands grip my thighs, spreading them apart.

He stares at me for a heartbeat and then he rips my underwear right off. I gasp and his mouth is on me, hot and insistent. My fingers tangle in his dark hair as he devours me like he’s starving.

"You taste incredible," he murmurs against me, his breath sending shivers through my core. His tongue circles, teases, and I’m lost, my body arching off the bed as pleasure builds, sharp and unrelenting.

"Please," I beg, my voice breaking. "Don’t stop."

He doesn’t. His mouth works me with a skill that leaves me trembling, my climax crashing over me like a wave. I cry out, my body shuddering, but he doesn’t let up, drawing out every last shred of ecstasy until I’m limp against the sheets.

He moves up my body, his golden eyes locked on mine, and I can see the hunger in his gaze, the need to claim me again. Deftly, he unlaces his pants, and I help shove them away until there is nothing between us. His hands grip my hips as he lines himself up, and then he’s inside me, filling me completely.

"Look at me," he growls, his voice rough, commanding.

I do. I can’t look away. His eyes hold mine as he begins to move, slow and deliberate, each thrust dragging a moan from my lips. His hands slide up my body, tangling in my hair as he kisses me again, hard and possessive.

"Ada," he murmurs against my lips, his voice strained. "You’re mine."

"Yes," I breathe, my hands clutching at his back, my nails digging into his skin. "Yours."

It's the closest we've ever come to really talking about what we must both be thinking.

He moves with purpose, each stroke drawing me closer to the edge again. His breathing grows ragged, his movements more desperate, and I can feel his control slipping. My body tightens around him, and I’m there again, falling apart as he follows me over the edge, his deep moan vibrating through my chest.

He collapses beside me, pulling me into his arms, and I bury my face in the crook of his neck, breathing in the scent of sweat and him. His hand strokes my back, gentle now, and I can feel the steady thud of his heart against my chest.

No words. Just the quiet comfort of being held. Of belonging.

I start to shift, planning to return to my room, but his arm tightens around my waist.

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