Page 43 of Demon Daddy's Hidden Daughter
"Good," I breathe, amazed at my own voice. "So good. Please don't stop."
His answering chuckle rumbles through his chest. "Never. I could do this for hours. Could live between your thighs and die happy."
The raw honesty in his voice, the way he speaks like pleasuring me is a gift rather than a chore, breaks something open inside me. Years of conditioning try to surface—the voice that says I should be quiet, should lie still, should think of anything but what's happening to my body. But Rhyen's careful attention, the way he watches my face for every reaction, makes those old defenses crumble.
He adds his fingers to the symphony, sliding one long digit inside me while his tongue focuses on the bundle of nerves that makes me see stars. The dual sensation has me arching against his mouth, chasing the building pressure in my core.
"That's it," he murmurs, adding a second finger and curling them in a way that makes me cry out. "Let go for me, sweetheart. Let me watch you fall apart."
The endearment, combined with the perfect pressure of his mouth and fingers, sends me spiraling toward something I've never experienced before. Not the hollow mimicry I learned to fake for survival, but real, honest pleasure that builds from my core outward.
When the climax finally crashes over me, it's with an intensity that leaves me sobbing his name, body convulsing around his fingers as wave after wave of sensation rolls through me. He doesn't stop, doesn't pull away—just gentles his touch and works me through it until I'm boneless and shaking beneath him.
Afterward, he crawls back up my body, pressing soft kisses to my damp skin. When he reaches my face, I can taste myself onhis lips, and something about that intimacy makes me want to weep with gratitude.
"Thank you," I whisper against his mouth, though the words feel inadequate for what he's just given me.
"Thank you," he counters, pulling back to study my face with those intense blue eyes. "For trusting me. For letting me make you feel good." A grin curves his lips. "It did make my day better."
Instead of responding with words, I curl into him, pressing my face against the warm hollow of his throat. His arms come around me immediately, holding me close as exhaustion and satisfaction pull me toward sleep.
For the first time in my life, I understand what safety feels like in another person's body. Not the absence of threat, but the presence of protection. Of care. Of someone who sees pleasure as something to give rather than take.
I drift off with his heartbeat steady beneath my ear, finally knowing what it means to be cherished.
22
RHYEN
Dawn creeps through the enchanted windows like a thief, painting the bedroom in shades of gold and amber. I wake gradually, my body still humming with the memory of last night—the taste of Lenny's pleasure on my tongue, the way she'd sobbed my name as she came apart beneath me. She sleeps curled against my side, dark hair spilled across my chest, one hand resting over my heart.
Careful not to wake her, I ease from the bed and pull on trousers and a shirt. She needs the rest after everything we shared, and I have a morning routine to keep. Ava will be expecting me in the garden for our daily sparring session, and I'd rather face a battalion of demons than disappoint that little girl.
The thought brings a smile to my face as I pad barefoot down the hall toward her room. Four years old and she already fights like a warrior—all fierce determination and boundless energy wrapped up in a tiny package with violet eyes and infectious laughter. The way she hero-worships me should be embarrassing, but instead it fills me with a warmth I never expected to feel. Both my girls do.
My girls.The thought comes unbidden, settling in my chest with startling certainty. Somewhere between Lenny's first smile and Ava's delighted squeals as I flew her around the garden, they'd become mine. Not through blood or law, but through something deeper. Through choice and love and the fierce protectiveness that now courses through my veins like fire.
I knock softly on Ava's door, then ease it open when no response comes. The bed sits empty, covers pulled up with the careful precision she's learned from watching Lira make the other rooms. My chest lightens with fondness—she must have beaten me downstairs again. The little sprite has been waking earlier and earlier, and I'm struggling to keep up. But I like she keeps me on my toes.
Orris will be on duty by now, keeping watch over the grounds and anyone wandering them. Still, I quicken my pace down the main staircase, anticipation building. These morning sessions with Ava have become the best part of my day—watching her tiny face scrunch with concentration as she tries to remember the forms I've taught her, the way she beams when she manages to land a hit on my shin with her wooden practice sword.
The garden spreads before me in the early morning light, dew clinging to the nightlilies and making the cobblestone paths glisten. But something's wrong. The usual sounds of Ava's chatter and Orris's patient corrections are absent, replaced by an eerie quiet that sets my teeth on edge.
At our usual training spot near the center fountain, I find her wooden sword lying abandoned on the stone bench. The sight of it sends the first tendril of unease curling through my gut. Ava never leaves her "warrior blade" anywhere—she carries the damn thing everywhere, much to Lenny's amused exasperation.
Then I see the parchment folded beneath it, bearing the official seal of the New Solas Training College.
My hands shake as I unfold the message, but the words are crystal clear.
I told you a little demon didn't belong in this city. I'm doing what you should have. Protecting everyone.
White-hot rage erupts in my chest, followed immediately by a terror so complete it nearly drives me to my knees. Someone took her. Someone tookmyAva while I was sleeping peacefully upstairs, content from a night with her mother.
Thalor. It has to be him. The parchment, the location, the timing—all of it points to him. The bastard who'd sneered at Ava just yesterday when I brought her to the college, who'd called her an "abomination" and approached me while she trained, telling me it was our duty to get rid of anyone with demon blood in our city. He offered to take her—like he was doing me afavor.
I nearly snapped in front of a class of children. It took everything in me to hold it together until I got alone, and then I seethed all day. But I couldn't fucking stand it.
The memory of his pale green eyes filled with disgust as he looked at my little girl sends another wave of fury through me. I should have killed him then. Should have ripped his throat out the moment he dared speak of Ava with anything less than respect.
