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He leans in, his lips grazing my ear. “I want to make love to you, Sunshine. The kind that rewrites your body’s memory. The kind you feel for days.”

A shiver rolls through me, not from fear but from the sheer truth of his words. I’ve never had a man say something like that and mean it.

“I want that too,” I whisper, meeting his gaze.

The corner of his mouth lifts; not cocky, not playful. Just sure. Of himself. Of me. Of this thing blooming between us that doesn’t make sense on paper but feels inevitable anyway.

Matt kisses me, slow and deep. It’s not rushed. There’s no pretense in it, just his mouth moving against mine with growing hunger, a promise in every stroke of his tongue. His hand cups my face, steadying me as though he senses how easily I could get lost.

He pulls back just enough to look at me. “Last chance, baby. Once I start, I’m not stopping until you’re completely wrung out and asleep in my arms.”

His tone makes my thighs clench.

“I don’t want you to stop,” I murmur.

Something shifts in him then. Permission given. Walls down. He kisses me again, and this time, it’s all-consuming. I feel him everywhere; his weight, his breath, the way his hand slips under my camisole and lifts it over my head, baring me to the heat of his gaze.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, brushing his mouth over my collarbone. “So beautiful, it hurts.”

His hands aren’t hurried as he peels away what’s left of my clothes. His touch is deliberate. Each inch of skin he exposes is kissed, admired, claimed.

When I’m completely bare before him, he just looks at me. Not a quick glance. Not a once-over. Heseesme. His eyes linger on my stomach, my thighs, the curve of my hips, the softness I’ve tried to hide.

“You’re mine now,” he says, pressing his forehead to mine. “And I’m going to show you exactly what that means.”

He undresses too, and when his body settles over mine, skin to skin, the pressure is everything I didn’t know I needed. We fit. Somehow. In all the ways that matter.

He slides a thigh between mine and nudges my legs further open, his hand finding mine and threading our fingers together.

“You ready, Sunshine?” he whispers, his voice rough and low.

I nod. “Yes, Daddy.”

He enters me slowly, inch by inch, never breaking eye contact. There’s nothing rushed or urgent; just the ache of stretching around him, of letting him in, in every sense.

Once he’s fully seated, he holds there, giving me time to adjust. One hand stays tangled in mine, the other strokes my cheek as his forehead presses to mine. Then he starts to move, and it’s not just about pleasure, it’s about every unspoken promise he’s already begun to keep. His hips rock into mine with a rhythm that feels like a vow.

Our bodies speak in sync: gasps and moans and whispered names. I wrap my legs around him, pulling him deeper, needing to feel him fill every corner of me. The pressure builds slowly, that coil tightening with each pass of his hips, each stroke of his hand across my breast, each kiss that lingers far longer than lust would require.

When I come apart beneath him, it’s not loud. It’s not wild. It’s devastatingly intimate. I orgasm with a soft cry into his mouth, a trembling release as my body yields to his completely.

He follows moments later, breathing my name like a prayer, holding me so tightly I almost weep.

After, we don’t speak. We just breathe, tangled together, his heartbeat a slow and steady thrum against my back. One arm stays tight around my waist, protective. Possessive. The other brushes through my hair as if I’m precious. Fragile, but not breakable.

Eventually, he pulls the blanket over us and murmurs, “Tomorrow we talk more about what kind of future we will build.”

I smile against his chest, warm and safe. “It started tonight.”

He kisses the top of my head. “Then I promise, Sunshine, I’ll make sure it only gets better from here. Tomorrow, when we aren’t this exhausted, I’ll show you how much pleasure a Daddy can give his girl.”

I have every intention to hold him to that promise.