2. Damian #3
I reach past her, flipping on the bathroom light. Warm illumination floods the space—all marble and chrome, the glass-walled shower dominating one corner.
She shifts her weight from foot to foot, arms tightening across her breasts. "I can clean myself."
"I'm sure you can." I move to the shower, twisting the handles until water cascades from the rainfall showerhead. Steam begins curling upward almost immediately. "But where's the fun in that?"
Her throat works as she swallows. "This is insane."
"You keep saying that." I test the temperature with my hand, adjusting until it's just shy of scalding. "Yet you're still here."
She doesn't answer. Doesn't need to. The rapid rise and fall of her chest, the way her pupils dilate when I look at her—it speaks volumes.
I shed the towel, letting it drop to the tiled floor. Her gaze tracks the movement, lingering before she jerks her eyes away.
"In." I gesture toward the shower.
She takes one tentative step, then another. Water hits her honey-blonde waves, darkening them to amber as rivulets cascade down porcelain skin. She gasps, arching slightly as the heat soaks into her frame.
Beautiful.
I follow her in, the glass door clicking shut behind us. The space shrinks with my presence, forcing her back against the marble wall. Water streams between us, creating a curtain of warmth and steam.
"Turn around."
"Why?"
"Because I'm going to wash you." I reach for the bottle of body wash on the built-in shelf. "And I want full access."
Her bottom lip disappears between her teeth. But she complies, rotating slowly until her back faces me. The delicate curve of her spine, the slight flare of her hips—every inch draws my attention.
I pour soap into my palms, working up a lather. "Stay still."
My hands settle on her shoulders. She jumps, muscles tensing beneath my touch.
"Relax."
"I can't." Her voice pitches high, breathless. "This is—you're?—"
I drag my soapy palms down her arms, slow and deliberate. Mapping every inch of soft skin, feeling her tremble under my exploration. My thumbs trace the delicate bones of her wrists before sliding back up.
"Your body is responding." I lean closer, my breath stirring the wet strands at her nape. "Getting wet for me already?"
"That's the shower." But her voice cracks, betraying her.
My hands move to her waist, spanning the narrow expanse easily. She's so small. Fragile. Mine to protect and claim and?—
I force the thought down, focusing instead on the task. Suds slide down the gentle curve of her lower back as I work the soap across her skin. She shivers when my fingers dip lower, tracing the swell of her rear.
"Damian—" My name on her lips shoots straight through me.
"Shh." I guide her forward, away from the wall. Water sluices over both of us as my hands map her stomach, feeling the slight tremor of muscles beneath. Higher. Carefully avoiding her breasts despite the way she arches, seeking.
Her breathing turns ragged. Shallow gasps that echo off tile and glass.
I spin her to face me, water cascading between us. Those hazel eyes lock onto mine—wide, desperate, pupils blown so dark they're almost black.
"Please—"
"Please what?" I cup her jaw, thumb brushing her bottom lip. "Use your words."
"I need—" She whimpers, pressing closer. Milk beads on her nipples, mixing with the water streaming down her breasts. "It hurts."
The ache in her voice undoes something in my chest.
I lower my head, capturing her right nipple between my lips. She cries out, fingers tangling in my wet hair as I suck gently. Sweet, warm milk floods my mouth—rich and perfect. I swallow, groaning against her skin.
"Oh god—" Her back arches, pressing more of her breast into my mouth. "Please don't stop?—"
I don't. My hand comes up to massage her left breast, working the tissue with firm, deliberate strokes. More milk flows freely under my ministrations, and I switch sides, drawing from her left while kneading the right.
She's shaking. Whimpering. Completely undone.
"That's it, little girl." I pull back just enough to murmur against her skin. "Give me everything."
"Daddy—"
The word punches through me like lightning. My head snaps up, meeting her dazed expression. She blinks, realization dawning across flushed features.
"I didn't mean—I'm sorry?—"
"Say it again."
"What?"
I rise to my full height, backing her against the marble wall. Water streams over my shoulders as I cage her in, one hand braced beside her head.
"Call me that again."
Her throat works. "Daddy?"
Mine.
The word brands itself across my consciousness, absolute and irrevocable. This beautiful, desperate little thief who lactates at the sight of me, who calls me daddy without thinking—she's mine.
"You're not leaving." The declaration rumbles from deep in my chest. "Not tonight. Not ever."
"I don't understand?—"
I silence her with my mouth on her other breast, sucking hard. She gasps, fingers tightening in my hair as her legs give out. I catch her easily, pinning her against the wall with my body.
She'll never escape.
I won't let her.