Page 52 of Demon Daddy's Hidden Daughter
"You feel so good," I groan against her ear, pushing deeper until I'm fully seated inside her. "So fucking perfect."
She whimpers, her arms wrapping around my shoulders as she adjusts to the feeling of me inside her. "Move," she whispers after a moment. "Please move."
And I do, setting a slow, steady rhythm that has her gasping and clinging to me like I'm her anchor in a storm. This isn't just sex—it's communion, connection, the physical manifestation of everything we feel for each other. Every thrust is a promise, every kiss a vow, every shared breath a declaration of love.
I start moving slowly, savoring every sensation, every small sound that escapes her lips. Her body welcomes me like she was made for this, made for me, and the thought sends a surge of possessive satisfaction through my chest. This is how it should be—gentle, reverent, perfect.
"Christ, Lenny." My voice comes out as barely more than a growl against her ear. "You feel like heaven."
Her nails dig into my shoulders as I establish a rhythm, deep and measured strokes that have her gasping beneath me. I watch her face in the moonlight, memorizing every expression that crosses her features—the way her eyes flutter closed when I hit that perfect spot deep inside her, the way her lips part around breathless moans of my name.
"Open your eyes," I command softly, my hand cupping her cheek. "I want to see you."
When those amber eyes meet mine, the connection between us intensifies tenfold. This isn't just physical—it's everything. Soul-deep and world-shifting, like nothing I've ever experienced before. The vulnerability in her gaze, the complete trust she's placing in me, humbles me in ways I didn't know were possible.
I adjust my angle slightly, and the change makes her cry out, her back arching off the bed as her inner muscles clench around me. "Right there?"
"Yes," she breathes, her voice breaking on the word. "Oh gods, yes."
I maintain that angle, keeping my movements deliberate and controlled even as every instinct screams at me to take her harder, faster. But this isn't about my needs—it's about worshipping her, showing her what it feels like to be cherished rather than used.
Her hands roam over my back, tracing the scars there with reverent fingers, and I shiver under her touch. Every caress feels like a brand, marking me as hers in ways that go far deeper than skin. The war brands on my arms seem to pulse with warmth where she touches them, and I've never felt more proud of what I am—what I can offer her.
"You're so beautiful," I murmur, pressing kisses along her jaw, her throat, anywhere I can reach. "So fucking perfect, love. Do you know what you do to me?"
She whimpers, her hips rising to meet my thrusts, and the rhythm we create together is like poetry in motion. Slow and sweet and building toward something transcendent. I can feel her body responding, tightening around me with each stroke, and I know she's climbing higher with every movement.
My hand slides between us, finding that sensitive bundle of nerves, and the touch makes her sob my name. "Rhyen, please."
"I've got you," I promise, my thumb circling in time with my thrusts. "Let me take you there."
The moonlight streaming through the windows bathes us both in silver, making her skin glow like something ethereal. Her hair is spread across my pillow like spilled silk, and the sight of her beneath me, lost in pleasure I'm giving her, is the most beautiful thing I've ever witnessed.
I lean down to capture her lips, swallowing her moans as I continue that maddening pace. The kiss is desperate, hungry, full of everything we can't quite put into words yet. When I finally break away, we're both breathing hard, our foreheads pressed together as we move in perfect synchronization.
"I never knew," she whispers against my lips, her voice thick with emotion and arousal. "I never knew it could feel like this."
The admission breaks something open in my chest, flooding me with fierce protectiveness and tenderness. "This is how it should always be," I tell her, my voice rough with conviction. "This is how you deserve to be touched."
Her response is lost in a gasp as I shift slightly, hitting that spot inside her that makes her entire body tremble. I can feel her getting closer, her breathing becoming more erratic, her muscles tensing with impending release.
"That's it," I encourage, my lips brushing against her ear. "Let go for me, sweetheart. I want to feel you come apart."
My movements become more focused, more deliberate, designed to drive her higher and higher. The hand between us maintains that perfect pressure while I continue the slow, deep thrusts that have her writhing beneath me. Her nails score down my back, and the sharp pleasure-pain only adds to the intensity building between us.
"I'm so close," she gasps, her voice breaking. "Rhyen, I'm?—"
"I know." I increase the pressure of my thumb, feeling her body coiling tighter and tighter. "Come for me, Lenny. Let me see you fall apart."
She's teetering right on the edge, her entire body strung taut as a bow, and I know exactly what she needs to push her over. I lean down, pressing open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive column of her throat, tasting the salt of her skin, breathing in her intoxicating scent.
When I reach the spot where her pulse pounds beneath delicate skin, I graze it with my teeth before soothing it with my tongue. The sensation makes her sob, her hips bucking against mine, and I know she's right there.
"Come for me," I whisper against her throat, my voice a command and a plea rolled into one. "I want to feel you sweetheart."
And she does, her climax crashing over her like a tidal wave. Her body arches beneath mine, every muscle tensing as she cries out my name, her inner walls clamping down around me with exquisite pressure. The sight of her lost in ecstasy, the feel of her coming apart in my arms, pushes me over the edge right behind her.
My own release tears through me with devastating intensity, and I bury my face in her neck as I spill inside her, her name a broken prayer on my lips. The world narrows down to thismoment, this connection, the feeling of being completely and utterly consumed by her.
