Page 23

Mandy

T he rumble of Thor's Harley died beneath me as we pulled up to the cabin, golden moonlight filtering through pine trees like a blessing. I exhaled, letting the rigid posture I'd maintained all day during the business launch soften.

"We're here, princess," Thor said, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through my chest where it pressed against his back.

I'd been clinging to him the entire ride, my thighs squeezing his hips, my cheek pressed against the worn leather of his cut.

My emerald suit was wrinkled now, the pencil skirt hiked high on my thighs to accommodate straddling the bike. I didn't care.

Thor swung his leg over the bike, then turned to help me. His hands spanned my waist, fingers nearly meeting at my spine as he lifted me. I wasn't a small woman but Thor made me feel delicate. My feet touched the ground, but I kept my hands on his shoulders, reluctant to break contact.

"You're trembling," he said, brushing copper strands of hair from my face. His fingers were calloused but gentle, each touch precise – the hand of a mechanic who knew exactly how much pressure to apply.

"Just cold," I lied. We both knew it wasn't the night air making me shake.

Thor's eyes, blue as winter ice, saw through me completely. "You pushed yourself hard today. Proud of you."

His simple praise pierced me deeper than the flowery compliments my colleagues had showered me with. My throat tightened, and I found myself staring at his hands—those massive, skilled hands that contained such contradictions.

"Come inside." Thor took my hand, his fingers engulfing mine. "Got something for you."

I expected him to lead me to the bedroom, but instead, he opened the bathroom door. Steam billowed out, carrying the scent of lavender and something sweet I couldn't immediately identify. I gasped.

The claw-foot tub was filled with milky water, lavender bath bombs slowly dissolving into swirls of purple and blue. String lights had been hung from the ceiling, casting star-shaped patterns across the walls and water.

"Thor . . ." I whispered, unable to find words.

"Thought you might need to unwind," he said, his voice gentle but matter-of-fact, as if preparing such tenderness was nothing exceptional. "Let me help you."

His hands moved to my hair, finding the pins that secured my tight bun. One by one, he removed them, placing each on the counter with a tiny click. My scalp tingled as the pressure released, and I couldn't help the small moan that escaped my lips.

"Better?" he asked, running his fingers through my hair, working out the stiffness from being pinned up all day.

"God, yes." I leaned back against his chest, feeling the copper waves cascade down over my shoulders, falling nearly to my waist.

His hands moved to the buttons of my suit jacket, deftly unfastening each one. "You looked powerful today," he murmured near my ear. "Standing there in this suit, commanding the room. My strong girl."

My breath hitched. That was the magic of Thor—he saw no contradiction between my strength and my need to be small sometimes. He celebrated both.

The jacket slid from my shoulders, and he hung it carefully on the hook behind the door. His reverence for my professional armor touched me deeply. Next came the silk shell beneath, lifted over my head with such care that not a single strand of my hair caught.

I stood before him in my pencil skirt and emerald bra – the lingerie I'd chosen especially for tonight, knowing we'd end up here. The satin bows on the straps were a small nod to my Little side, while the push-up styling and matching thong beneath my skirt were all woman.

Thor's pupils dilated as he took me in, his breathing noticeably heavier. "Turn around," he instructed, voice dropping an octave.

I obeyed, my back to him as his fingers found the zipper of my skirt. The sound of it lowering felt obscenely loud in the steamy bathroom. The fabric loosened, then fell to pool around my ankles. I stepped out of it, still in my heels, now wearing only the emerald lingerie set.

Thor's hands settled on my hips, his thumbs making small circles on my bare skin. I could feel the heat of him behind me, the restraint in his touch. I stood perfectly still, caught in that exquisite space between my two selves – the accomplished professional and the vulnerable Little – a middle ground that only existed with Thor.

"My beautiful girl," he whispered, his breath hot against my neck. His words sent shivers cascading down my spine, making my nipples tighten beneath the emerald satin.

I turned to face him, sudden boldness rising through my vulnerability. My hands found the hem of his black t-shirt, tugging upward. "Your turn."

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth – surprised, pleased. He raised his arms, allowing me to pull the shirt over his head, revealing the sprawling Norse tattoos across his broad chest and arms. Mjolnir, Thor's hammer, dominated his back – I'd trace it later with my tongue.

"The bath will get cold," he reminded me, though his eyes said he'd forgotten all about it.

"We wouldn't want that." I reached behind myself, unhooked my bra, and let it drop to the floor.

The air between us charged instantly. Thor's eyes darkened as they roved over my exposed breasts, the emerald thong the only barrier remaining. His jaw tightened, the tendons in his neck standing out with the effort of his control.

"You're fucking perfect," he growled, hands still at his sides as if touching me might break his resolve.

I stood before him, half-naked yet feeling more powerful than I had all day in my corporate armor. This was the gift Thor gave me – the space to be everything I was, without hiding any piece of myself.

"Your bath awaits, princess," he said finally, his voice a delicious blend of Daddy dominance and raw male hunger.

The water embraced me like a warm caress as Thor's strong arms lowered me into the bath. Steam rose around us, beading on his forearms where he'd rolled up his sleeves. I sank into the lavender-scented water with a sigh that seemed to come from somewhere deep inside me—a place that had been wound tight all day, waiting for this release.

Thor knelt beside the claw-foot tub, his massive frame folding with surprising grace. He rolled his sleeves further up, revealing more of his tattooed forearms. I watched, mesmerized by the play of muscles beneath his skin as he reached for a soft washcloth.

"Lean forward," he instructed, his voice gentle but carrying that undercurrent of command that made my stomach flutter.

I obeyed, drawing my knees to my chest. The warm water sloshed around my breasts, partially concealing them. Thor dipped the washcloth into the water, wrung it out, and began washing my shoulders with slow, deliberate circles.

"You're carrying so much tension here," he murmured, pressing his thumb into a knot at the base of my neck. The pressure was exquisite – pain and pleasure intertwined in a way that made me gasp.

"Busy week," I managed, my voice sounding strained even to my own ears.

"More than busy. You were magnificent today." His hands moved in practiced patterns, finding every tight muscle, every point of tension. "Watching you command that room of suits—fuck, Mandy. You had them eating out of your hand."

The cloth made lazy circles across my shoulder blades. What had started as washing had become a massage, his strong fingers working beneath the wet cloth to release knots I hadn't even realized I was carrying. I melted under his touch, my head dropping forward.

"I wanted to make you proud," I admitted softly, the vulnerability of the confession making my cheeks heat.

Thor's hands paused on my shoulders. "Amanda Wright," he said, using my full name in that way he did when he wanted my complete attention. "I'm always proud of you."

My throat tightened. I blinked rapidly at the unexpected sting of tears.

His hands resumed their path, moving down my arms now. The cloth glided over my skin, leaving trails of tingling awareness in its wake. He lifted each arm in turn, washing from shoulder to fingertip with meticulous care. It was reverent, this bathing. Almost ceremonial.

"Why did you do this?" I asked, curious about the elaborate setup – the bath bombs, the lights, the heated towels I could see folded on the warming rack.

Thor's mouth quirked up at one corner. "Because my girl pushed herself hard today. Because she deserves to be taken care of." His massive shoulders lifted in a shrug. "Because I wanted to."

Simple. Direct. So very Thor.

The cloth moved to my collarbone now, sweeping in long strokes across my chest. I watched his face, the intense concentration in his blue eyes, the slight furrow between his brows. His hand hesitated at the swell of my breasts, just below the water line.

Our eyes met. The air between us thickened.

I arched slightly, an invitation. My nipples tightened in anticipation, visible through the milky water.

Thor's nostrils flared. The washcloth disappeared beneath the surface. His callused hand, now free of the cloth, cupped my breast. His thumb circled my nipple with devastating precision, just firm enough to send sparks shooting down to my core.

"Is this what my princess needs?" he asked, his voice dropping to that deep register that made me liquid inside. His gaze held mine, watching for any sign of discomfort or hesitation.

"Yes, Daddy," I whispered, the words barely audible over the gentle lapping of the water.

Thor's reaction was immediate and profound. His pupils dilated until only a thin ring of blue remained. The tendons in his neck stood out sharply as he swallowed. His hand tightened slightly on my breast, sending a jolt of pleasure through me.

"Christ, Mandy," he growled. "The things you do to me."

His free hand slid behind my neck, drawing me forward until our lips met. The kiss was hungry, demanding, his tongue claiming my mouth with the same careful dominance he showed in everything else. I moaned against his lips, reaching for him, my wet hands clutching at his shoulders.

He broke the kiss, both of us breathing hard. "Stand up," he said, voice rough with restraint.

I rose from the water on shaky legs, liquid cascading down my body in rivulets. Steam rose from my skin in the cooler air. Thor's gaze traveled slowly from my face down my naked body, lingering on my breasts, my stomach, the apex of my thighs. I should have felt exposed, vulnerable. Instead, I felt powerful. Desired. Worship was plain in his eyes.

He reached for one of the heated towels, shaking it open with a snap. With surprising gentleness for such a large man, he wrapped it around me, the warmth enveloping my damp skin. His hands moved over the towel, drying me with firm, efficient strokes that still managed to feel like caresses.

When I was mostly dry, he bent suddenly, one arm behind my back, the other under my knees, lifting me against his chest as if I weighed nothing. I looped my arms around his neck, pressing my face into the crook of his shoulder, inhaling the scent of him—motor oil, leather, and spice.

He carried me from the bathroom, moving down the hallway. I expected him to turn toward the bedroom, where we'd spent countless nights together. Instead, he paused at a junction in the hallway, seeming to consider something. Then, decisively, he turned the opposite direction.

My heart skipped. That way led to his sanctuary. The first place we’d ever made love.

"Thor?" I questioned, uncertain.

His arms tightened around me. "I have something special prepared," he whispered against my hair, his breath warm against my scalp. "Something for all of you—not just one side."

The promise in those words made me shiver against him. I nodded, unable to speak past the lump in my throat. Thor understood what even I was just beginning to grasp – that I didn't need to compartmentalize myself anymore. That with him, I could be whole.

The sanctuary had transformed. I stood transfixed in Thor's arms, my damp hair dripping onto his forearm as I tried to process what I was seeing. The reading nook, once a simple cushioned window seat, now sprawled outward in a nest of soft blankets and pillows, large enough for both our bodies. Fairy lights hung in delicate strands from the ceiling beams, their amber glow turning the whole room into something from a dream.

"When did you do all this?" I whispered, scanning the room with wide eyes.

"Been planning it all week." Thor's voice rumbled through his chest against my ear. "Wanted it to be perfect."

My stuffed animals had been rearranged on the shelves lining one wall. No longer scattered haphazardly as I'd left them, they sat in neat rows, like an attentive audience. Mr. Fluffles, my ancient teddy bear, had pride of place in the center. The dollhouse Thor had built me stood open on its table, every tiny piece of furniture aligned with precision.

On the low coffee table, a plate of chocolate-covered strawberries glistened next to an ice bucket holding champagne. Two crystal flutes stood ready. But what caught my eye was a small box wrapped in pink paper, tied with a silver bow.

Thor carried me to the blanket nest and set me down with such gentleness that my chest ached. The towel loosened as I settled against the pillows, falling open to reveal my naked body. I made no move to close it.

"Cold?" Thor asked, misinterpreting my shiver.

"No," I answered honestly. "Just . . . overwhelmed."

He nodded once, understanding. Then he stood, his massive frame backlit by the fairy lights, and began to undress. I watched, breath caught in my throat, as he pulled his t-shirt over his head. The movement revealed the intricate tattoos that covered his broad chest and shoulders.

His hands moved to his belt buckle, unfastening it with deliberate slowness. The leather slid through the loops with a soft hiss that made my stomach clench with anticipation. His jeans followed, pushed down powerful thighs dusted with golden hair. He stepped out of them, now wearing only black boxer briefs that did nothing to hide his arousal.

My mouth went dry. No matter how many times I'd seen Thor's body, it still stunned me. The sheer size of him, the controlled power in every movement. His muscles weren't for show; they were functional, earned through work and battle. Scars marked his skin alongside the tattoos, telling different chapters of the same story.

Thor stood before me, nearly naked, yet it was the vulnerability in his eyes that made my heart race. "May I join you?" he asked, formal in a way that told me this moment mattered deeply to him.

I nodded, not trusting my voice. He lowered himself onto the blankets beside me, careful not to crush me with his weight. We lay facing each other, my towel now completely open between us, his hand hesitantly resting on my waist.

"The box," I said suddenly, remembering the pink package. "Is that for me?"

A rare flash of uncertainty crossed Thor's face. "Yeah. If you want it."

Curiosity pulled me upright. I reached for the package, the silver bow catching the amber light. The box was small, fitting easily in my palm. I glanced at Thor, finding him uncharacteristically tense, watching me with an intensity that made my skin prickle.

I untied the bow carefully, setting the silver ribbon aside. The pink paper came away to reveal a velvet jewelry box. My heart hammered against my ribs as I opened it.

Inside, nestled on white satin, lay a delicate collar made of emerald ribbon—the exact shade of my lingerie, of the suit I'd worn today. A small silver heart pendant hung from the front, catching the light as I lifted it from the box. The pendant was engraved with a tiny crown on one side and my initials on the other.

"It's beautiful," I breathed, running my finger along the soft ribbon.

"You don't have to wear it," Thor said quickly, his voice rougher than usual. He sat up beside me, the blankets pooling around his waist. "But I wanted something that could represent both sides of you. Something beautiful and precious, but also a symbol of belonging."

I looked up at him, seeing past the tattoos and scars to the vulnerability beneath. This massive, dangerous man, feared by rivals, respected by his brothers, was nervous about my reaction to his gift.

"The emerald is for the professional you," he continued, words coming faster now. "The woman who commands rooms and takes no shit. The ribbon is soft, like your Little side. The heart . . ." He paused, swallowing hard. "That's mine. If you want it to be."

Tears welled in my eyes, blurring the fairy lights into starbursts above us. "Thor," I whispered, his name catching on the lump in my throat.

His hand covered mine where I held the collar, his callused palm warm against my fingers. "If it's too much—"

"It's perfect," I interrupted. I held his gaze as I lifted the collar to my throat, my hands trembling slightly. "Will you put it on me, Daddy?"

The words were barely audible, but Thor's sharp intake of breath proved he'd heard. The naked want in his eyes made heat pool low in my belly. He took the collar from my shaking hands, his movements suddenly reverent.

"Turn around," he instructed, voice husky.

I shifted, presenting my back to him, gathering my damp copper hair and lifting it off my neck. The position left me feeling exposed, vulnerable—my naked back to his chest, the towel forgotten somewhere in the blankets.

Thor's fingers brushed my nape as he brought the ribbon around my throat. The touch was feather-light, but it sent shivers cascading down my spine. The ribbon settled against my skin, cool and soft. Thor's breath warmed my shoulder as he worked the delicate clasp at the back, his fingers brushing my pulse points.

"There," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the sensitive spot where my neck met my shoulder.

I turned to face him again, hand rising to touch the ribbon at my throat. The silver heart pendant rested in the hollow between my collarbones. I felt different wearing it—owned and protected, but also powerful. Like I finally had permission to be all of myself.

"How does it feel?" Thor asked, watching me carefully.

"Like belonging," I answered honestly.

Something fierce and tender flashed across his face. His hand came up to cup my cheek, thumb brushing my lower lip. "We belong together.”

"Thank you," I whispered, leaning into his touch.

Thor's eyes dropped to the collar, then lower, taking in my naked body with unconcealed hunger. "It suits you," he said, voice dropping to a growl. "Both sides of you."

I felt exposed under his gaze, but not uncomfortable. Never uncomfortable with Thor. His appreciation was honest, respectful even in its raw desire. I watched his face, fascinated by the play of emotions – tenderness warring with lust, protective instinct battling with baser needs.

"My beautiful girl," he murmured against my hair. "My perfect, precious girl."

Thor braced himself on one elbow beside my head, his other hand cupping my face with surprising tenderness. His thumb traced my cheekbone, eyes searching mine for any hesitation. Finding none, he lowered his mouth to mine.

The kiss started gentle—a question, an offering. Then something broke loose between us. My fingers tangled in his blond hair, pulling him closer as his tongue slipped past my lips. The kiss deepened, grew hungrier. Thor's hand moved from my face to my throat, not pressing, just resting above the emerald ribbon. The weight of it made me gasp into his mouth.

He pulled back just enough to look at me, his pupils so dilated the blue of his iris was nearly invisible. "Good?" he asked, his voice a graveled rumble.

"Yes," I breathed, arching up to recapture his lips.

Thor responded with a growl that vibrated through my chest. His kiss turned demanding, claiming. I yielded to it, opening for him, letting him set the pace. His beard scratched pleasantly against my skin, the slight pain heightening every sensation.

His hand left my throat, trailing down my body. Callused fingertips traced patterns on my skin that left me shivering – across my collarbone, down the slope of my breast, circling but never touching my nipple. The teasing was exquisite torture. Each path his fingers traveled left nerve endings firing in their wake, my skin hypersensitive to his touch.

I could smell the lingering scent of lavender from the bath, mingled now with the muskier scent of arousal. The blankets beneath me were soft against my back, a cocoon of comfort even as desire sharpened to a keen edge.

Thor broke the kiss to trace his lips along my jaw, down my neck, careful not to disturb the ribbon collar. His teeth grazed my earlobe, sending a jolt of electricity straight to my core. "Daddy’s in control now, sweetheart."