Page 29

"In you go." I helped her into the tub, steadying her as she sank into the warm water with a sigh.

For a few minutes, I just let her soak. She'd pulled her knees up, arms wrapped around them, making herself small in the water. I recognized the position—self-soothing, protective. The kind of pose that said she was still processing everything we'd talked about.

"Lean back," I instructed, reaching for her shampoo. "Let me take care of you."

She tilted her head back, eyes closing as I worked the shampoo through her hair. My fingers found her scalp, massaging in slow circles that pulled a soft moan from her throat. Such a simple thing, but she melted under the attention like she was starving for it.

"Feel good?"

"Mm-hmm." Her whole body had loosened, tension draining away with the suds. "Your hands are magic."

"Just hands, baby. Nothing special."

"Everything about you is special." The words came out dreamy, unguarded. "The way you see me. Take care of me. Make me feel safe enough to fall apart."

I worked conditioner through the ends of her hair, taking my time. But something had shifted in the air between us. Her breathing had changed, gone deeper. When I rinsed her hair, my fingers trailing down her neck, she shivered despite the warm water.

"Daddy," she said, voice taking on a different quality. Still soft, still little, but threaded with something else. Want. Need. "I want to thank you."

"You don't need to thank me for—"

"Not just for today." She turned in the tub, water sloshing as she faced me. "For everything. For seeing who I really am. For helping me see it too."

Her pupils were blown wide, cheeks flushed with more than just heat from the bath. When she licked her lips, my control creaked dangerously.

"Cleo . . ."

"Let me show you." Her hand found my wrist where it rested on the tub edge. Drew it down until my palm cupped her breast under the water. "Please. I need to show you how grateful I am. How much you mean to me."

Her nipple peaked against my palm, and I bit back a groan. "Baby, you're vulnerable right now. Emotional. I don't want to take advantage—"

"You're not." She rose to her knees in the tub, water streaming down her body in rivulets that caught the candlelight. "I'm choosing this. Choosing you. Let me give back some of what you've given me."

Christ, she was going to kill me. Water droplets clung to her skin like jewels. Her hair dark and slicked back, making her look older and younger all at once. Beautiful and brave and absolutely certain about what she wanted.

"How?" My voice came out rough, scraped raw with want I couldn't quite hide. "How do you want to thank me, little one?"

Her smile was pure sweetness with an edge of sin. "However you'll let me. However will make you feel as good as you make me feel."

She stood fully then, water cascading off her curves. I grabbed a towel, but she shook her head.

"Not yet." She stepped out of the tub, pressing her wet body against mine. "Want to feel you."

My clothes soaked through immediately, but I didn't give a damn. Not with her mouth finding mine, desperate and grateful and hungry all at once. She kissed like she was trying to pour her whole heart into me through her lips.

"Bedroom," I growled against her mouth. "Now."

"Yes, Daddy." The words were half moan, half prayer. "Show me what you need. Let me be good for you."

I lifted her then, her wet legs wrapping around my waist without hesitation. Carried her dripping to my bed where we'd already shared so much. But this felt new again. Raw and necessary after the emotional work we'd done.

"Show me, little one," I said, laying her out on the sheets that would need changing but fuck it. "Show Daddy how grateful you are."

Cleo's mouth met mine with desperate sweetness while her hands worked at my soaked clothes. She fumbled with buttons made difficult by water and urgency, making frustrated sounds that went straight to my cock.

"Easy, baby," I caught her hands, stilling them. "We've got time."

"Need you now." She pulled free, attacking my shirt with renewed determination. "Need to feel you. Thank you properly."

The shirt finally gave way, and her mouth found my chest immediately. Lips and tongue mapping territory she'd already claimed, but with new reverence. Like she was trying to memorize me through taste alone.

"Thank you," she breathed against my skin between kisses. "Thank you for seeing me."

Her mouth moved lower, tracing scars and ink with equal attention. When she found the compass rose on my hip, she spent long minutes worshipping it with her tongue until I was gripping the sheets to keep from grabbing her.

"Thank you for keeping me safe." Her fingers worked at my belt, movements sure now. "For being patient when I was scared."

The belt came free. Jeans and boxers followed, her hands steady despite the tremor in her voice. When she wrapped her fingers around my cock, we both groaned.

"Thank you for teaching me I'm worth more than guilt." She stroked me base to tip, watching my face with those wide eyes. "Worth being cared for. Worth belief."

"Cleo." Her name came out strangled. "You don't have to—"

"I want to." She shifted down the bed, hair falling around her face like a curtain. "Want to make you feel as good as you make me feel. Want to show you."

Her mouth closed around me, and thought became impossible.

Hot and wet and perfect, taking me deep like she'd been dreaming about it.

Maybe she had. Christ knew I'd dreamed about this—her eager mouth, those grateful sounds she made in her throat, the way she looked up at me through her lashes like I was something worth worshipping.

"That's it," I managed, hand tangling in her damp hair. "Such a good girl. Taking care of Daddy so well."

She moaned around me at the praise, doubling her efforts. But this wasn't what I needed. Not really. I needed her closer, needed to be inside her, needed to feel her come apart while I held her together.

"Come here," I growled, pulling her up. "Need you."

She straddled my lap without hesitation, still dripping from the bath. We'd made a mess of the bed, but nothing mattered except the way she felt sliding against me. Slick and ready and perfect.

"Please," she whispered, positioning herself above me. "Let me. Need to give you this."

I gripped her hips, helping guide her as she sank down onto me. Inch by torturous inch until she was fully seated, both of us breathing hard. She was so tight, so hot, gripping me like she never wanted to let go.

"Fuck." I pressed my forehead to hers, overwhelmed. "Perfect. You're so fucking perfect."

"Yours," she corrected, rolling her hips experimentally. "Your perfect girl."

She started to move—just barely at first, those little pulses of muscle you only felt when someone was really living inside their body.

Not shy, not hesitant. Testing how they could use you for leverage, how far they could take themselves before you’d step in and redirect.

Her hands braced on my chest, slippery with steam and bathwater, nails biting down like punctuation marks every time she rocked forward and her clit grazed the hard ridge of my pelvis.

There was no shy preamble, no drawn-out seduction here; it was all need and gratitude and something like desperation.

She bounced in my lap, rolling her hips with a rhythm that built fast and brutal.

Each thrust wrung a gasp out of her—high-pitched at first but sinking lower the longer she kept eye contact.

There was a wild confidence in the way she moved, like every drop of pleasure was both her duty and her reward.

Like she owed this to herself as much as to me.

The light blurred everything to golds and shadows, but Cleo was sharp and alive in all the ways that mattered.

Her wet hair stuck in dark tangles against her neck and cheekbones.

She threw back her head with every bounce, exposing the pale tendon lines in her throat, then snapped back down to stare at me through those fuck-me eyes.

“Daddy,” she breathed, voice wrecked from crying but hungry now. “Let me . . . let me make you feel good.”

I reached up, cupping her jaw so I could guide her gaze right where I wanted it—locked on me. “You already do,” I said. “You’re perfect.”

That did something to her; she whimpered and picked up speed, grinding down so hard I felt the base of my cock ache in response.

My control frayed at the edges. I wanted to drag it out for her—it felt wrong not to—but she clearly didn’t want slow or gentle right now.

She wanted to ride this out until nothing else existed except us.

Hands flattened on my chest, she used me as an anchor while she lifted herself almost all the way off then dropped back down again with a force that made the bed frame lurch beneath us.

The mattress was already soaked from bathwater running off her skin, mixing with sweat and slick between our bodies.

Every motion made a filthy slap sound that echoed in the tiny bedroom.

She shuddered when I growled encouragement at her, steadying her hips so I could meet each bounce with my own thrust. “Fuck yes,” she moaned. “Don’t stop—don’t stop—”

“Wasn’t planning on it.” My hands slid from her waist up over her ribcage; I thumbed each nipple until it peaked hard beneath my touch, then caught one between my teeth when she leaned down to kiss me again.

Her tongue fought mine for dominance—a battle she lost immediately when I grabbed two fistfuls of damp hair at the base of her skull and held her there so we could devour each other mouth to mouth. Her teeth scraped along my lower lip until I tasted copper-iron tang; neither of us stopped.

When Cleo finally sat up again, still impaled deep on me, she was breathing so heavy it sounded like panic but there wasn’t any fear in her face, just some open-mouthed awe.

“This is what I needed,” she whispered around another helpless little moan. “Needed you inside me like this.”

“You’ve got me,” I said simply—even though she had more than just me inside her; she had every fucking part of me wrapped around that hunger.

The pace got rougher then—maybe because we both sensed how close we were to losing it entirely. Her thighs trembled against mine from effort but didn’t slow down at all; if anything, it made her dig into me harder.

I grabbed under both knees with one arm and jerked them up so they bracketed either side of my waist—the new angle made both of us shout—and let gravity carry her down while I thrust up to meet her halfway.

She collapsed forward onto my shoulder as an orgasm ripped through her, body locking up tight as a fist around me while those soft cries turned into ragged sobs.

It took everything I had not to follow instantly but there was no way I was coming before she finished hers—not after everything we’d been through tonight.

She shook apart against my chest for long seconds before easing back up again, still trembling but determined not to stall out yet.

“You’re insatiable,” I teased softly.

“I want—I want—” She choked on words for a second before getting them out: “I want you to come inside me.”

If any part of my brain had been holding back for fear of overwhelming her or breaking some unspoken boundary left over from earlier pain, it shattered right then.

She grabbed my hand with both of hers and placed it flat between our bodies where we joined together—then pressed down on my knuckles until the pressure sent waves through both of us. “Please.”

It took three thrusts—harder than I intended—to bring myself right to the edge; two more and every muscle in my body locked tight as lightning arced up my spine.

“Fuck,” I spat out between clenched teeth as release hit—and Cleo’s whole body went rigid again when she felt it happen inside her.

We stayed fused together like that for what felt like forever: Cleo slumped over me while our hearts hammered out competing drum solos; sweat cooling on our skin; breath fogging between us because neither one wanted to be the first to pull away.

I wrapped both arms around her back and just held on until language came back online for either of us.

When it finally did, Cleo whispered into the crook of my neck: “Thank you for letting me be good.”

My reply came without thinking—or maybe without filter: “That’s because you are good,” I said into her hairline while stroking slow circles down along the curve of her spine. “You’re perfect when you’re like this.”

And just like that, I felt it. I was falling in love.