Page 45 of Demon Daddy's Hidden Son
"Not yet," he says, guiding me back until my legs hit the edge of the bed. "Let me worship you first."
He eases me down onto the soft mattress, his hands sliding up my thighs as he settles between them. The first touch of his mouth against my most sensitive skin tears a cry from my throat. He groans in response, the vibration sending shockwaves through me.
"So sweet," he murmurs against me. "Better than I remembered. Better than my dreams."
His words barely register through the haze of sensation as he works me with lips and tongue and teeth. He seems to know exactly how to touch me, where to focus his attention, building the pressure inside me with maddening precision. When I thread my fingers through his hair, pulling him closer, he makes that low, hungry sound again.
"Please," I gasp, my hips lifting of their own accord. "Domiel, please?—"
"What do you need?" he asks, lifting his head just enough to meet my eyes. His lips are slick, his breathing ragged. "Tell me what you want."
"You," I say without hesitation. "I need you inside me. Please, I can't—I need?—"
He rises over me then, finally beginning to shed his own clothes. I watch through heavy-lidded eyes as he reveals the lean muscle of his chest, the defined lines of his abdomen, the impressive length of him that makes my mouth go dry with anticipation.
When he settles between my thighs again, the head of him pressing against my entrance, we both freeze. The moment feels suspended, heavy with significance.
"You're sure?" he asks one more time, his voice strained with the effort of holding back.
Instead of answering with words, I lift my hips, taking just the tip of him inside. We both groan at the contact, and his control finally snaps.
"Fuck, Kaleen," he gasps as he slides into me inch by slow inch. "You feel incredible. So tight, so perfect. Made for me."
The stretch is exquisite, filling an emptiness I hadn't even realized I carried. When he's fully seated inside me, we both go still, breathing hard. His forehead drops to mine, silver-blue eyes locked with mine in the dim light.
"Move," I whisper, and he obeys.
The rhythm he sets is slow and deep, each thrust deliberate and controlled. But as the pleasure builds, as my soft cries fill the air between us, that control begins to fray.
"That's it, beautiful," he growls against my ear. "Take everything I give you. You're so good, so fucking good for me."
His praise unravels me completely. I cling to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as he drives into me with increasingurgency. The coil of tension in my core winds tighter and tighter until I'm sobbing with need.
"Come for me," he commands, his voice rough and breathless. "Let go, Kaleen. I want to feel you fall apart."
The words push me over the edge. My release crashes through me like a wave, stealing my breath and making me cry out his name. He follows moments later, his own climax tearing a hoarse shout from his throat as he buries himself deep inside me.
We collapse together, both of us breathing hard and trembling. His arms wrap around me, pulling me close as aftershocks ripple through us both.
I'm not sure I've ever felt better.
25
KALEEN
We lie tangled together in the aftermath, our breathing slowly returning to normal. The blankets are twisted around us, creating a warm cocoon that feels separate from the rest of the world. Domiel's arms encircle me, one hand tracing lazy patterns across my bare shoulder while the other rests at the small of my back.
The firelight from the main room casts shifting shadows on the bedroom walls, and I can hear the soft whistle of wind outside. But here, wrapped in his warmth with his heartbeat steady beneath my ear, everything feels perfectly still.
"Domiel," I whisper, just to feel his name on my lips. It comes out soft and content, a sound of pure satisfaction.
His response is immediate—a gentle kiss pressed to the crown of my head, his lips lingering in my hair. The gesture is so tender it makes my chest tighten with emotion I can't quite name.
I shift slightly, tilting my head up to look at him. In the dim light, his features are all sharp angles and gentle curves. His silver-blue eyes are soft now, the fierce hunger from before replaced by something warmer, deeper. The careful mask heusually wears has been completely abandoned, leaving him open and vulnerable in a way that steals my breath.
"Can you tell me about us?" The words come out quieter than I intended, but he hears them clearly enough. "Before, I mean. About who we were together."
Something flickers across his expression—surprise, maybe, or uncertainty. His hand stills against my skin.
