Page 75 of Forbidden Daddy
A moment later, he entered me, fitting me to him like he belonged there. We moved as one—a dance with perfect harmony, two souls remembering a melody.
He took my hands in his, linking our fingers together. His eyes never left mine as he slid deeper, filling me. The fullness of it overwhelmed me, washed away everything but the connection between us.
"Cassie," he whispered, my name a prayer on his lips.
I spread my legs a bit wider, the action pulling him even closer and grounding him inside me. My body thrummed at the feeling of him. I arched my back, needing to move. He responded with a subtle rocking motion, finding a steady rhythm as I began to meet him, thrust for thrust.
Roman didn’t break eye contact as we moved. His expression remained earnest, the depth of feeling there overwhelming. I wrapped my legs around his hips, matching his strokes as our pace built to a fever pitch.
We moved together—every thrust a promise:I’m here. I’m staying.There was no pain, no dominance—just connection.
I came slowly, a cresting wave that lifted me and held me under the surface until I almost couldn’t breathe. Dimly, I heard myself repeating his name, or maybe it was just a plea for him to join me.
Finally, I heard him say, "I’m coming, angel."
One.
Two.
Three more deep strokes, and he buried himself inside me, crying out. I could feel his cock twitching in release, sending shocks of pleasure through me even as I rocked against him in residual waves of my own orgasm.
Breathing heavily, he held himself over me, careful not to put his full weight on my body. A few strands of hair had fallen forward across his forehead. I brought my fingers up to brush them aside, tucking them back behind his ear.
"Thank you," he whispered, still inside me. Still close. Still protective.
I couldn’t bring myself to speak, so I just nodded, a ghost of a smile on my face. But Roman must’ve read the unspoken request, because he eased himself out of me, rolling onto his side and pulling me against him.
His fingertips traced lines down my back, and I realized he was probably drawing imaginary tattoos. For a man who’d seen so much pain, his touch was gentle. I melted against him, pressing my cheek to his chest and listening to his heartbeat.
The sheets smelled like him—soap and something uniquely Roman that made me want to burrow closer. His arm wrapped tighter around me, pulling me as close as he could, like he was afraid I might disappear.
I traced the scar near his lip with gentle fingers, the one that bisected his mouth and made him look dangerous even in sleep. He caught my hand, pressing a kiss to my palm.
"You’re not alone anymore, Roman," I whispered into the quiet space between us.
He didn’t speak—couldn’t, maybe. The emotions were too raw, too new for someone who’d spent a lifetime believing that love was weakness and trust was suicide.
Instead, he pulled me closer until nothing existed between us but shared breath and synchronized heartbeats. His hand found my stomach, resting there with unconscious protectiveness over the life growing inside me.
I closed my eyes, letting myself sink into the warmth of his embrace. Whatever came next—whatever enemies circled in theshadows, whatever challenges the old guard would throw at us—we’d face it together.
The last thing I felt before sleep claimed me was Roman’s lips pressing against my temple, a benediction that felt like coming home.
31
EPILOGUE – CASSIE
The morning light streaming through the stained glass windows painted everything in jeweled colors—emerald, sapphire, gold—as I stood at the back of the chapel Roman had built into his reconstructed estate. A year had passed since the fire that burned down his father’s legacy, and what rose from those ashes was something entirely our own.
A fortress dressed in white and gold for our wedding day.
In my arms, Cassian stirred against the silk of my dress, his tiny fist curled around my finger with surprising strength for someone barely six months old. Our son. The symbol of everything we’d survived, everything we’d built together from blood and betrayal and love that refused to be broken.
"Ready, my lady?" Connor asked softly, offering his arm. The silver-haired man had volunteered to walk me down the aisle—a gesture that meant more than he could know.
I adjusted Cassian in my arms, his dark hair already showing hints of Roman’s stubborn cowlicks, and nodded. "More than ready."
The chapel doors opened, and my breath caught.
