"There?" he asked, a knowing smile curving his lips.
"Yes," I managed, my fingers digging into his shoulders. "Right there."
He maintained the perfect angle, his pace increasing as my breathing grew more ragged. I could feel another climax building, stronger than the first.
"You're mine," he growled, his rhythm becoming more intense. "Say it, Emily."
"I'm yours," I gasped, the words feeling right in a way I never imagined possible. "I'm yours," I repeated, surrendering completely to the pleasure he was giving me.
"Who am I?" he demanded, his thrusts becoming more powerful. "Say it."
"D-Daddy," I gasped.
"Say it again," he ordered.
"Daddy!" I yelled, louder.
"Good girl," he praised and thrust again. "Now, come."
My body obeyed as if it had been waiting for his permission. The orgasm crashed through me, more intense than anything I'd ever experienced. I cried out his name, my body clenching around him as wave after wave of pleasure washed over me.
With a groan, Dion followed, his body tensing above me as he found his own release. For several moments, we stayed connected, our breathing gradually slowing as we came down from the heights together.
When he finally rolled to the side, he kept me close, tucking me against his chest. His fingers traced lazy patterns on my bare skin, and I felt more content than I had in years.
"That was..." I trailed off, unable to find adequate words.
"Just the beginning, baby girl, " Dion promised, pressing a kiss to my forehead.
I smiled, nestling closer to him. "I should be panicking right now," I admitted. "Overthinking everything. Running away."
"But you're not," he observed, his hand stroking my hair.
"No," I agreed, surprised by my own calmness. "I'm not."But Daddy? Was he mad, or was I?
Dion got up briefly and dealt with the condom, then got back in bed, pulling me close. We lay in comfortable silence for a while, my head resting on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. His fingers continued their gentle exploration of my skin, occasionally pausing to trace a small scar or birthmark.
"What are you thinking?" he asked finally.
I considered the question carefully. "That I should feel more conflicted about this than I do."
He chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest beneath my ear. "Why is that?"
"Because this is all happening so quickly. Because there are dangerous people after me. Because I've never let anyone see all of me before." I propped myself up on one elbow to look at him. "And yet, being here with you feels... right."
Dion's eyes softened as he brushed a strand of hair from my face. "Sometimes when it's right, you just know."
"Is that what military training taught you?" I teased.
"No," he replied seriously. "That's what life taught me. When something feels right in your bones, you don't question it. You hold onto it with both hands."
His words settled over me like a warm blanket. For someone who had spent her life questioning everything, analyzing everydecision to death, the simplicity of his perspective was both foreign and appealing.
"And you think this—us—feels right?" I asked.
"I know it does," he said with absolute certainty. "I need someone who needs me. The question is, do you need me?"
I thought about the way he'd held me through my nightmares, the tenderness with which he'd fed me breakfast, the understanding in his eyes when he found me in the Little room. I wanted to say yes. Hell, I wanted to scream it, but he just lightly kissed me again. "Come on baby girl, let's grab a quick shower then eat. I can scan all those files for Eric so he can do some digging."
