“Open wide,” I command, fisting myself roughly. “Show Daddy how hungry you still are.”
Theo obeys immediately, unfolding his body and stretching forward, mouth open, tongue out. His submission is eager. I grip his hair with my free hand, positioning his face exactly where I want it.
“Fuck,” I groan as the pressure builds. “Here it comes, wildfire. Take it all.”
My orgasm rips through me like a lightning strike. I aim the first thick rope onto his waiting tongue, the next across his cheekbone, and another across his lips. Theo moans, swallowingwhat landed in his mouth, then eagerly licking his lips to catch more.
Before the last pulse subsides, I crush my mouth against his. The kiss is filthy—all teeth and tongue, the taste of both our cum mingling between us. His hands clutch at my shoulders as he kisses back with equal ferocity, moaning into my mouth.
This man is going to ruin me, and in that moment, I really don’t care anymore. He’s extraordinary, beautiful, mine.
22
THEO
Iwake with a slow, luxurious awareness—warmth at my back, heavy weight across my chest, and the steady rhythm of someone else’s breathing against my neck. Victor. His arm draped possessively over me, keeping me anchored against the solid wall of his chest.
Five, maybe six hours of uninterrupted sleep. I can’t remember the last time that happened.
I should feel trapped. I usually do, when lovers stay the night—that itchy, restless sensation that sends me slipping out of bed before dawn, inventing excuses about early meetings or deadlines. But Victor’s hold doesn’t make me want to escape. It makes me want to sink deeper.
Safe. That’s the word that floats to the surface of my mind. I feel safe.
The realization hits with unexpected force. I’ve never prioritized safety—I chase experiences, sensations, the electric rush of something new. Safety was always the boring alternative, the path not taken.
Now I’m not so sure.
I shift slightly, and Victor’s arm tightens instinctively, pulling me closer. Even in sleep, he’s claiming me. The thought shouldbe suffocating. Instead, it feels like being tethered during a storm.
Dangerous territory, this. I know what I’m good at—pursuing relentlessly, seducing thoroughly, leaving before breakfast. I’m excellent at wanting people, having them, then wanting someone else. The temporary nature of desire has always been its most appealing quality.
This feels nothing like that.
Victor makes a soft sound against my neck, his breath warm and steady. Something unfamiliar expands in my chest—tender and vulnerable and absolutely terrifying.
I’ve always gone after exactly what I want, without apology. But what happens when what you want stops being a fleeting hunger and starts feeling like necessity? What happens when temporary no longer seems like enough?
I close my eyes and let myself sink back into his embrace, knowing I’m venturing into uncharted waters. Whatever this is becoming, it’s nothing like anything I’ve wanted before.
Victor stirs behind me, his breathing pattern changing as he wakes. His arm, which has been draped across my chest all night, suddenly tenses. I feel his body go rigid against mine for a heartbeat, that split second of realization—he stayed the whole night.
I hold my breath, waiting for him to bolt.
Instead, his muscles relax, his hold on me softening without releasing entirely. This wasn’t what I expected. In our brief but intense history, our encounters have been explosive, desperate—rarely gentle.
He shifts, and I turn to face him, curious about this new development. Morning light filters through the curtains, casting his face in dim light. The hardness that usually defines his features has softened with sleep. He looks younger, almost vulnerable.
“Morning,” he murmurs, voice still rough with sleep. Then he does something that catches me entirely off guard—he kisses me. Not the bruising, claiming kisses we’ve shared before, but something gentle. Almost sweet.
“Hey,” I whisper back, uncertain how to navigate this unfamiliar territory.
Victor’s thumb traces my jawline with surprising tenderness. We lie there facing each other, neither of us pushing for more. The silence between us feels comfortable in a way that’s entirely new.
His eyes study my face with an intensity that should make me uncomfortable, but doesn’t. No one’s ever really looked at me like this before, like they’re trying to memorize every detail.
“You slept well,” he says, more observation than question.
I nod. “Better than I have in... I don’t even know.”