Page 59 of Demon Daddy's Baby Girl

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice rough, like the words are being pulled from deep within him. His hands slide up my sides, leaving trails of warmth in their wake. I shiver, not from the cold but from the way he looks at me—like I’m the only thing that matters in this world.

I reach for the laces of his tunic, my fingers trembling slightly as I work to undo them. He watches me, his breath hitching as I push the fabric off his shoulders. His chest is broad, scarred—a map of his battles and survival. I press my palm against his heart, feeling the steady beat beneath my hand. His skin is warm, alive.

“Aurelie,” he whispers, his voice breaking. His hand covers mine, holding it there.

I don’t speak. I can’t. Instead, I lean forward, pressing my lips to the scar that runs across his collarbone. His breath catches, and his fingers thread through my hair, holding me close. I kiss each mark, each imperfection, as though I can erase the pain they represent.

When I pull back, his eyes are dark, his pupils blown wide with something more than desire. His hands move to my thighs, gently parting them as he settles between my legs. His lips follow the curve of my hip, trailing kisses along the faint stretch marks that curve around my body.

“These—” His voice is soft, almost reverent. “These are proof of your strength. Of everything you’ve survived.”

I swallow hard, my throat tight. No one has ever looked at me like this—like my scars are not something to hide but something to honor. His lips brush against the faded burn on my lower back, and I tremble, my fingers digging into the sheets.

“Rolfo,” I whisper, my voice shaking.

He looks up at me, his eyes searching mine. “Do you know what you do to me?” he asks, his voice low, raw. “You undo me, Aurelie. Every damn time.”

I reach for him, pulling him up until our bodies are pressed together, skin against skin. His breath hitches as I guide his hand to my hip, anchoring him there.

“I want you,” I say, the words slipping out before I can second-guess them.

His eyes darken, and he lowers himself over me, his weight comforting, grounding. “You have me,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against mine. “You’ve always had me.”

When he enters me, it’s slow, deliberate. My breath catches, and I wrap my arms around him, holding on as though he’s the only thing keeping me tethered to this earth. His forehead presses against mine, our breath mingling, our hearts beating in sync.

“Look at me,” he whispers, his voice ragged.

I open my eyes, meeting his gaze. His silver eyes are a storm, filled with something I can’t name—something that makes my chest ache. We move together, our rhythm steady, unhurried. Every stroke is a promise, every touch a confession.

This isn’t about survival or desperation. It’s about trust. About finding home in each other.

“Aurelie,” he breathes, my name a prayer on his lips.

“Rolfo,” I whisper back, my fingers tracing the curve of his neck, the line of his jaw.

His hand tangles in my hair, his lips capturing mine in a kiss that’s tender and hungry all at once. I’m drowning in him, in the way he makes me feel—cherished, wanted,loved.

I push against Rolfo’s chest, my palms flat against the solid planes of muscle. His silver eyes widen in surprise for a fraction of a second before darkening as he understands what I’m asking.

He lets out a low, rumbling growl from deep in his chest as he rolls onto his back, his hands sliding to my hips to steady me. The shift in power sends a thrill through me, and I rise up on my knees, hovering over him, feeling the heat of his body beneath me.

His chest rises and falls with heavy breaths, his gaze locked on mine, a storm raging in those mercury depths. There’s something raw and untamed in the way he looks at me now, like I’ve stripped away the last of his control. His hands tighten on my hips, his fingers digging into my skin.

“Aurelie,” he rasps, his voice rough, almost pleading.

I lower myself slowly, feeling him stretch me with an intensity that makes my breath hitch. His eyes never leave mine, and I watch as his jaw clenches, his teeth grinding together as though he’s trying to hold himself back. The way he looks at me—like I’m everything he’s ever wanted—makes my heart race, and a warmth spreads through my chest that has nothing to do with the heat pooling between my legs.

I begin to move, rocking my hips in a slow, deliberate rhythm. His hands slide up my sides, his touch sending shivers through me. He groans deeply, the sound vibrating through my body as I lean forward, bracing my hands on his chest. His heart pounds beneath my palms, a steady, frantic beat that matches my own.

“Fuck, Aurelie,” he growls, his grip tightening on my hips as I pick up the pace. His head falls back against the pillows, his eyes closing for a moment before they snap open, locking on mine again. The intensity in his gaze is almost unbearable, like he’s seeing straight through to the very core of me.

I feel every inch of him as I ride him, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through my body. My breath comes in shallow gasps, and my muscles tighten and release with each movement. His hands move back to my hips, his fingers digging into my skin as though he’s trying to keep me tethered to him.

“You feel so good,” he murmurs, his voice rough, strained.

His words send a jolt of heat through me, and my rhythm falters for a moment. He grunts, his hips bucking up to meet mine, driving deeper into me. I moan, my head falling back as pleasure builds within me, coiling tighter and tighter.

“Rolfo,” I whisper, my voice trembling. “Don’t stop.”

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