Page 76 of Thor

I slid one hand between us, finding her clit with my thumb, circling it in time with my thrusts. Her reaction was immediate—a sharp cry, her back arching off the quilt, inner muscles clamping down on me.

"Thor," she cried again, her voice rising in pitch. And then, as her climax crashed over her, the word that shattered my control completely: "Daddy!"

The sound of that word on her lips, in that moment, hit me like a physical blow. Heat exploded through me, my vision blurring as my own release tore through me with unexpected violence. I buried myself to the hilt one final time, spilling inside her with a hoarse shout of her name.

For several long moments, I couldn't move, couldn't think, couldn't do anything but feel the aftershocks of the most intense orgasm of my life. Beneath me, Mandy trembled with her own residual pleasure, her arms still locked around me as if afraid I might disappear.

When I could finally form coherent thought again, I carefully shifted my weight to avoid crushing her, but didn't withdraw from her body. Not yet. I wasn't ready to break that connection.

We lay there for a while, still joined, trading soft kisses and gentle touches as our breathing returned to normal. The amber light bathed us in warmth, creating a cocoon that felt separate from the rest of the world. Here, there was no MC, no accounting firm, no roles to play or appearances to maintain. Just us, stripped bare in every way possible.

Eventually, I had to withdraw from her body, both of us gasping softly at the separation. I didn't go far, though, gathering her against my side, her head resting on my chest, my arm wrapped securely around her.

"That was . . ." she began, then stopped, apparently unable to find the right word.

"Yeah," I agreed. "It really was."

Her finger traced patterns on my chest, following the lines of tattoos she could probably barely see from her position.

She propped herself up on one elbow, looking down at me with serious eyes. "Why me?"

It was a fair question, but one I didn't have a simple answer for. Why her, indeed? Why had this woman—a buttoned-up accountant who'd stumbled into my world through a professional consultation—triggered something in me that decades of living had not?

"Because you see me," I said finally. "All of me. Not just the enforcer. Not just the mechanic. Not just the lover. All of it."

She nodded, understanding. "And you see me. The accountant. The woman. The Little." She smiled, a small, private expression. "All of me."

I pulled her down for another kiss, this one soft and lingering. When we parted, I saw in her eyes the same wonder I felt—the amazement of finding someone who accepted every facet of who we were.

A protective urge surged through me, different from the fierce guardianship I felt for my brothers, softer but no less powerful. With careful movements, I gathered her in my arms and stood, cradling her against my chest as if she weighed nothing.

"Where are we going?" she murmured, her voice drowsy and satisfied.

"Taking care of you," I replied, carrying her toward the adjoining bathroom door.

Her head nestled against my shoulder, trusting and pliant. This side of her—soft, yielding, vulnerable—sparked something primal in me. Not sexual desire, though that remained a steady undercurrent, but the need to protect and nurture.

I nudged the bathroom door open with my foot, revealing the space beyond. Like the main room, I'd designed this bathroom with meticulous care, though I'd never used it as intended until now. The centerpiece was a deep clawfoot tub, large enough to accommodate my frame comfortably—or both of us together. The walls were painted a soft blue-gray, the fixtures gleaming brass that I'd polished myself. Plush towels in pastel colors were stacked neatly on open shelves, alongside glass bottles containing bath salts and oils I'd researched and purchased with embarrassing thoroughness.

Mandy's eyes widened as she took it all in. "This is beautiful."

I set her down carefully on the fluffy bath mat, keeping one arm around her waist to steady her. "Let me run you a bath."

She watched as I leaned over the tub, adjusting the taps until the water ran warm but not too hot. I selected a jar of lavender bath salts from the shelf, measuring a careful spoonful into the flowing water. The scent rose with the steam, calming and clean.

"You thought of everything," she said, watching me test the water temperature with my wrist like I was preparing a baby's bottle.

I shrugged, not meeting her eyes. "Had a lot of time to plan."

When the tub was half full, I turned back to her. She stood naked and slightly shivering, arms crossed loosely over her chest—not in modesty after what we'd shared, but for warmth. I reached for her, guiding her to the tub's edge.

"In you go," I said softly.

She stepped into the water with a small gasp of pleasure, sinking down until the water reached her chest. Her hair floated around her shoulders, copper tendrils darkening as they absorbed moisture.

I knelt beside the tub, rolling up my sleeves. She raised an eyebrow.

"You're going to wash me?"

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