9. Chapter Nine
Chapter Nine
Emily
I didn't comment the whole time Dion drove us back to his house, even when he curled his fingers with mine and pulled my hand onto his lap. We arrived, and I noticed the dogs weren't there. "They're with Abby. I'll go get them soon."
Dion guided me to the room I'd slept in before, next to his, and put my suitcase down, then stood almost awkwardly. "It kills me I might have destroyed the chance of something special growing between us."
I sighed. "It's not just about the files. What happened before..." I trailed off, not sure how to continue.
"Scared you," Dion finished for me.
I nodded, wrapping my arms around myself. "I've never... shown that side of myself to anyone before."
"And now you feel exposed."
"Yes." I looked up, meeting his eyes. If I owed Dion anything, it was honesty. "I don't know what to do," I admitted. "I feel like I'm losing control of everything."
"Maybe that's not entirely a bad thing," Dion suggested gently. "Maybe some things aren't meant to be controlled."
I let out a shaky laugh. "You sound like my therapist."
"You have a therapist?" Dion asked, surprise evident in his voice.
"Had," I corrected. "For about three sessions after I graduated when Mom and Dad were still interfering. Then I convinced myself I was fine and stopped going."
Dion's lips quirked slightly. "That tracks."
Despite everything, I felt a smile tug at my lips. "I guess it does."
We stood looking at each other across the room, the tension slowly ebbing away. I still felt raw, exposed, but the blind panic that had driven me to grab my files and threaten to leave was subsiding.
"So, what now?" I asked quietly.
"I won't apologize for what happened between us before," Dion stated absolutely. “You needed it. I needed it."
I gazed at his implacable face, but in an odd way his complete surety settled me. "What does that mean, though?"
Dion's expression didn't change. "It means we keep exploring us."
"You're very sure there is an us." I lifted my chin, and he stepped forward, his arms going around me.
"I am. You're mine, Emily Carter. All of you."
I gaped. "Bossy, much?" But holy hell, his confidence was such a turn on and the distraction I probably needed.
"I'm sure about us," Dion said, his voice dropping to that deep rumble that made my knees weak. "I've known since I first saw you."
I should have scoffed. Should have pulled away. This was insane—we barely knew each other. But something in his eyes, in the certainty of his touch as his hands settled on my waist, made the memory of what we'd shared maybe the only truth I'd admitted to myself in a long time.
"What if it's a mistake?" I whispered, even as I leaned into him.
"You know it isn't." He brushed a strand of hair from my face, his touch feather-light. "But for me, everything about us just feels right."
I couldn't argue because I knew he was correct. I couldn't find words as he lowered his head, his lips hovering just above mine.
"If you need me to stop, tell me," he murmured, his breath warm against my skin.
I should have. But instead, I closed the distance between us, pressing my lips to his.
The kiss started gentle, tentative, but quickly blazed into something more urgent. His arms tightened around me, pulling me flush against his body as his mouth claimed mine. I melted into him, my hands sliding up his chest to clutch at his shoulders.
When we finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Dion rested his forehead against mine. "Still think it's a mistake?" he asked, a hint of smugness in his voice.
"Probably," I admitted. "But I don't care anymore."
He chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest. "That's a good girl."
His words sent a shiver of pleasure through me. Good girl. It shouldn't have felt so right, so natural, but it did.
"Come with me," he said, taking my hand.
I let him lead me out of my room, where Barnaby sat waiting, to his bedroom where I'd stayed the first night. At the threshold, I hesitated. "Dion, I—"
"Let me take care of you."
That simple statement said it all and I followed him inside.
When his fingers found the hem of my shirt, I lifted my arms obediently, allowing him to pull it over my head. His eyes darkened as he took in the sight of me in my simple cotton bra.
"Beautiful," he murmured, running his hands down my sides.
I shivered under his touch, suddenly shy despite loving his touch. "Your turn," I whispered.
Dion smiled, pulling his shirt off in one fluid motion. I'd seen him partially dressed before, but now I allowed myself to truly look—to appreciate the defined muscles, the intricate tattoos that decorated his arms and chest.
"See something you like?" he asked, his voice teasing but with an underlying command that made my pulse quicken.
"Yes," I admitted, reaching out to trace one of the tattoos with my fingertip.
He caught my wrist, bringing my hand to his lips. "On the bed," he directed, his tone gentle but leaving no room for argument.
I obeyed, settling in the center of his large bed, watching as he unbuckled his belt and removed his jeans. His boxers did little to hide his arousal, and I felt a flush of heat spread through me.
"You're overdressed," he observed, crawling onto the bed with the predatory grace of a man completely comfortable in his own skin.
His fingers made quick work of my jeans, sliding them down my legs and tossing them aside. When his hands returned to my body, they were deliberate, commanding—skimming over my skin with just enough pressure to make me arch into his touch.
"Dion," I breathed, reaching for him.
"Patience," he murmured, capturing both my wrists in one large hand and pinning them above my head. "I've been thinking about this since I first saw you. I'm going to take my time."
The dominance in his gesture sent a thrill through me. With my arms restrained, I was completely at his mercy—and somehow, that felt more freeing than anything I'd experienced before.
His free hand trailed down my body, tracing the curves of my breasts, my waist, and my hips. When he finally unhooked my bra, sliding it away to expose my breasts to his hungry gaze, I couldn't hold back a moan.
"So responsive," he praised, lowering his head to take one nipple into his mouth.
The wet heat of his tongue sent lightning through my body. I arched up, straining against his hold on my wrists.
"Please," I whimpered, not even sure what I was begging for.
"Please what?" he asked, his breath hot against my sensitive skin.
"I need... I need..."
"I know what you need," he assured me, releasing my wrists only to hook his fingers in the waistband of my panties. "Too many barriers between us."
I lifted my hips to help him, my embarrassment forgotten in the haze of desire. He slid them down my legs, tossing them aside before settling between my thighs.
"Look at me," he commanded softly.
I obeyed, meeting his intense blue gaze.
"If you want me to stop at any point, tell me," he said, his voice firm but gentle. "I need to hear you say you understand. What's your safeword?"
"I understand, and it's Blue," I whispered, touched by his concern even as need pulsed through me.
He nodded, satisfied, then lowered his head. The first touch of his mouth against my core nearly undid me. I gasped, my hands flying to his hair as he tasted me with deliberate, knowing strokes.
"Dion," I moaned, my hips lifting involuntarily. He lifted his head, his lips glistening with what he'd tasted from me. "Daddy, or Sir," he said firmly, then lowered his head before I even had time to process that order.
His hands gripped my thighs, holding me in place as he continued his delicious assault. One large finger slipped inside me, then another, curling to find that perfect spot that made stars explode behind my eyelids.
"That's it," he murmured against my sensitive flesh. "Let go for me, sweetheart."
The combination of his commanding tone, skilled mouth, and probing fingers pushed me over the edge. I came with a cry, my body arching off the bed as waves of pleasure crashed through me.
Before I could fully recover, Dion was moving up my body, shedding his boxers along the way. He reached into the bedside drawer, retrieving a condom that he quickly rolled on.
"Are you ready for me?" he asked, positioning himself between my thighs.
I hesitated. "Yes," I breathed, reaching for him. "But it's been a while."
He entered me slowly, giving my body time to adjust to his size. The stretch was painful at first, bordering on too much, yet exactly what I needed. When he was fully seated within me, he paused, his forehead resting against mine.
"You feel perfect," he murmured, his voice strained with the effort of holding back.
I wrapped my legs around his waist, urging him deeper. "Move," I pleaded. "Please move."
He began to thrust, each movement deliberate and controlled. His eyes never left mine, watching every flicker of pleasure cross my face. One hand slid beneath me, lifting my hips to change the angle, and I gasped as he hit a spot that sent sparks shooting through my body.
"There?" he asked, a knowing smile curving his lips.
"Yes," I managed, my fingers digging into his shoulders. "Right there."
He maintained the perfect angle, his pace increasing as my breathing grew more ragged. I could feel another climax building, stronger than the first.
"You're mine," he growled, his rhythm becoming more intense. "Say it, Emily."
"I'm yours," I gasped, the words feeling right in a way I never imagined possible. "I'm yours," I repeated, surrendering completely to the pleasure he was giving me.
"Who am I?" he demanded, his thrusts becoming more powerful. "Say it."
"D-Daddy," I gasped.
"Say it again," he ordered.
"Daddy!" I yelled, louder.
"Good girl," he praised and thrust again. "Now, come."
My body obeyed as if it had been waiting for his permission. The orgasm crashed through me, more intense than anything I'd ever experienced. I cried out his name, my body clenching around him as wave after wave of pleasure washed over me.
With a groan, Dion followed, his body tensing above me as he found his own release. For several moments, we stayed connected, our breathing gradually slowing as we came down from the heights together.
When he finally rolled to the side, he kept me close, tucking me against his chest. His fingers traced lazy patterns on my bare skin, and I felt more content than I had in years.
"That was..." I trailed off, unable to find adequate words.
"Just the beginning, baby girl, " Dion promised, pressing a kiss to my forehead.
I smiled, nestling closer to him. "I should be panicking right now," I admitted. "Overthinking everything. Running away."
"But you're not," he observed, his hand stroking my hair.
"No," I agreed, surprised by my own calmness. "I'm not." But Daddy? Was he mad, or was I?
Dion got up briefly and dealt with the condom, then got back in bed, pulling me close.
We lay in comfortable silence for a while, my head resting on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.
His fingers continued their gentle exploration of my skin, occasionally pausing to trace a small scar or birthmark.
"What are you thinking?" he asked finally.
I considered the question carefully. "That I should feel more conflicted about this than I do."
He chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest beneath my ear. "Why is that?"
"Because this is all happening so quickly. Because there are dangerous people after me. Because I've never let anyone see all of me before." I propped myself up on one elbow to look at him. "And yet, being here with you feels... right."
Dion's eyes softened as he brushed a strand of hair from my face. "Sometimes when it's right, you just know."
"Is that what military training taught you?" I teased.
"No," he replied seriously. "That's what life taught me. When something feels right in your bones, you don't question it. You hold onto it with both hands."
His words settled over me like a warm blanket. For someone who had spent her life questioning everything, analyzing every decision to death, the simplicity of his perspective was both foreign and appealing.
"And you think this—us—feels right?" I asked.
"I know it does," he said with absolute certainty. "I need someone who needs me. The question is, do you need me?"
I thought about the way he'd held me through my nightmares, the tenderness with which he'd fed me breakfast, the understanding in his eyes when he found me in the Little room.
I wanted to say yes. Hell, I wanted to scream it, but he just lightly kissed me again.
"Come on baby girl, let's grab a quick shower then eat.
I can scan all those files for Eric so he can do some digging. "
It wasn't exactly a question, but he didn't just inform me that was what he was doing whether I agreed or not. That was probably a huge concession in his world. Plus, I needed help. I nodded and he smiled, then sat up and swung his legs down.
I couldn't help the gasp. It had been dark when he'd gotten in bed with me before, so I'd never seen his back, or the multitude of crisscross scars that littered it. "Daddy," I whispered, and he stiffened as if realizing what I'd seen. I sat up. "Baby, did you get those in the Marines?"
He sighed and turned, clasping my hand. "Nope, I got those between the ages of nine and fourteen… from my father."