Chapter 8 #2
“His princess,” he supplies, voice low and certain.
My chest tightens again, warmth spreading through me. I lean forward, pressing my lips gently to his. Not a kiss of passion, but of connection. Of understanding.
When we part, something has shifted between us yet again. Some new layer of trust.
“The water’s getting cold,” he murmurs, though his arms tighten around me as if he doesn’t want to let me go.
I nod, settling against his chest for one more moment. His heartbeat is strong and steady beneath my ear.
Caleb rises from the tub first, water cascading down the hard planes of his body as he stands.
I can’t help staring. The man is a work of art, all defined muscle and smooth skin, strength contained in a perfect package.
He steps out and reaches for a towel, one of those oversized, impossibly soft ones that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe.
Then he turns and extends his hand to me, helping me stand on legs still weak from everything we’ve done tonight.
“Come here,” he says, his voice a gentle command.
I step out carefully, water dripping onto heated marble floors.
Caleb wraps the massive towel around me, enveloping me in warmth and softness.
But instead of handing it over, he begins to dry me himself, running the plush fabric over my shoulders, down my arms, across my back with careful attention.
“You don’t have to—“ I start.
“I want to.” He cuts me off gently. “Let me take care of you.”
He kneels to dry my legs, starting at my ankles and working his way up. This powerful man on his knees before me, focused entirely on the simple task of drying water from my skin. I don’t know what to do with the feeling it gives me.
When he finishes, he stands and wraps the towel around himself with a quick swipe that leaves his hair adorably mussed. He takes my hand and leads me back to the bedroom, where the rumpled sheets still bear evidence of our earlier passion.
I expect him to get into bed, to pull me down beside him into sleep. Instead, he stops in the middle of the room, turning to face me with an expression I can’t quite read.
“Tomorrow I’ll have Franklin move your things in here,” he says, the words casual as if he’s discussing the weather rather than completely upending our arrangement.
I blink, trying to process what he’s saying. “My things? In here? You mean...”
“This is where you belong now.” His tone doesn’t invite argument, but there’s a question in his eyes, a vulnerability beneath the certainty that tugs at me. “With me.”
A flutter of panic rises in my chest. This is happening so fast. Three days ago, I’d never met this man. Now he’s talking about me moving into his bedroom, the most private space in his carefully guarded fortress.
“Caleb,” I say carefully, “are you sure? We barely know each other. We haven’t even known each other a week. Don’t you think this is moving really fast?”
Something flickers across his face. It vanishes almost immediately, replaced by that calm certainty that seems to define him.
“I don’t do anything I’m not sure of,” he says, reaching up to tuck a strand of damp hair behind my ear. “When I know what I want, I don’t see the point in waiting. And I want you here, Nola. In my room. In my bed. In my life.”
My heart hammers against my ribs. In my life. Not just in his bed or his employment.
“But what if—” I can’t even finish the sentence.
“No what-ifs.” He steps closer, his hand cupping my cheek. “You’re mine now. I’m yours. It’s that simple.”
Nothing about this situation is simple. But looking into his eyes, feeling the gentle strength of his hand against my skin, it’s hard to hold onto my doubts.
I nod slowly. “Okay,” I whisper.
A smile spreads across his face, transforming his features, softening the harsh lines and making him look younger. Lighter. “Good girl.”
He releases me and moves to the bed, pulling back the covers and sliding beneath them. Instead of immediately reaching for me, though, he settles against the pillows, arms folded behind his head.
“Come here,” he says, patting the bed beside me.
I obey, climbing in and expecting him to pull me against his chest like before. Instead, he remains where he is, watching me with heated eyes.
“I want you to have your way with me,” he says, his voice dropping to that register that makes my skin prickle. “Touch me however you want. Do whatever you want. I’m all yours, princess.”
Heat floods my cheeks. In our previous encounters, he’s taken charge completely. The idea of taking control, of directing our pleasure, is both thrilling and terrifying.
“I don’t know if I...” I trail off, suddenly painfully aware of my inexperience.
“Yes, you do.” His confidence in me is unwavering. “Trust your instincts. Trust your body. There’s no wrong way to please me as long as you’re enjoying yourself too.”
I bite my lip, considering. He’s still watching me, patient but intent, his desire evident in the hungry look in his eyes and the growing hardness between his legs. The towel has fallen open, revealing him completely.
Gathering my courage, I move closer, straddling his thighs but not taking him inside me yet.
The position puts me above him, looking down at his face, that scar I’ve already stopped seeing as anything other than part of him.
I place my hands on his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath my palm.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs, his hands coming to rest lightly on my hips. “My beautiful princess, taking what she wants.”
The praise emboldens me. I lean down, pressing my lips to his in a kiss that starts gentle but quickly deepens. His tongue slides against mine, but he lets me set the pace, surrendering control in a way that feels like a gift.
I explore him with growing confidence. The strong column of his neck, the broad expanse of his shoulders, the hard planes of his chest. My fingers find a nipple, circling experimentally. He groans into my mouth, the sound encouraging me to continue.
“That’s it,” he breathes as I break the kiss to trail my lips down his jaw, his neck. “Show me what you like.”
What I like is the taste of his skin beneath my tongue. The sound of his breath catching when I nip gently at his collarbone. The way his hands tighten on my hips when I grind against him, feeling his hardness slide against my wetness.
Desire builds between us, slow and sweet. Different from the frantic need of before, but no less intense. I rock against him, teasing us both.
“Nola,” he groans, his head falling back against the pillows. “You’re killing me.”
I smile, a rush of power flowing through me at the sight of this controlled man coming undone beneath me. “Patience, Daddy.”
The title slips out without conscious thought, but his reaction is immediate. His cock jumps against my thigh, a groan tearing from his throat.
“Say it again,” he commands, his voice rough with need.
I lean down until my lips brush his ear. “Patience, Daddy.” I punctuate the words with a slow roll of my hips that has us both gasping.
His hands slide up to cup my breasts, thumbs brushing over sensitive nipples. “Take me inside you,” he urges. “Please, princess. I need to feel you.”
The please undoes me completely. This powerful man asking, not demanding. I rise up on my knees, positioning myself above him, the head of his cock nudging at my entrance.
Our eyes lock as I slowly sink down, taking him inch by inch. The stretch is delicious, my body still tender from earlier but eager for more. When he’s fully seated inside me, we both pause.
“Perfect,” he murmurs, his hands on my hips but not guiding, just holding. “You feel perfect around me.”
I begin to move, finding a rhythm that sends pleasure spiraling through me. Up, then down, taking him deep with each stroke. His eyes never leave mine, watching every expression that crosses my face with hungry intensity.
“That’s it,” he encourages, his voice strained with the effort of remaining still, of letting me control our pace. “Take your pleasure. Show me how you like it.”
I experiment, changing angles, changing speed, watching his reactions to learn what he likes best. When I lean forward slightly, the friction against my clit makes me gasp, and I move faster.
“Yes,” he hisses, his fingers digging into my hips. “Just like that. God, you’re beautiful like this. So fucking beautiful, taking your pleasure, using me to make yourself feel good.”
His words send another rush of heat through me. I’ve never felt so powerful, so desirable, so completely in command of my own pleasure and his.
“You like watching me ride you, Daddy?” The words come easier now, confidence growing with each roll of my hips.
“Fuck yes,” he growls, his control visibly slipping. “Love watching my princess take what she needs. Love feeling you squeeze around my cock.”
I’m close now, pleasure building with each movement. Caleb must sense it because one of his hands slides between us, thumb finding my clit with unerring accuracy.
“Come for me,” he urges, circling that sensitive bundle of nerves in time with my movements. “Let me feel you, princess. Let me see you fall apart.”
The combined sensation of his cock inside me and his thumb against my clit is overwhelming.
I throw my head back, rhythm faltering as pleasure crests and breaks, washing through me in waves that have me crying out his name.
My inner muscles clench around him, pulling him deeper as I ride out my climax.
“That’s it,” he praises, his voice tight with strain. “So good, so perfect. Mine.”
Before the aftershocks have fully faded, he’s sitting up, arms wrapping around me to hold me close as he takes control. His hips thrust up into me, pace brutal and perfect as he chases his own release.
“Mine,” he repeats against my neck, the word a brand and a promise. “Say it, Nola. Tell me who you belong to.”
“Yours,” I gasp as another wave of pleasure builds, unexpected and intense. “I’m yours, Daddy.”
He groans, deep and raw, his rhythm faltering as he reaches the edge. “Coming inside you,” he warns, his arms tightening around me. “Filling my princess with my come.”
The crude words combined with the feeling of him pulsing inside me triggers another orgasm, smaller but no less intense. I cling to him, our bodies pressed together from chest to hip as we ride out the pleasure together.
When it finally subsides, we collapse onto the bed in a tangle of limbs, his cock still buried inside me, our breath mingling in the small space between our faces. His hand comes up to cup my cheek, thumb stroking gently over my lower lip.
“Definitely moving your things in here tomorrow,” he says, voice soft but certain.
I laugh, the sound turning into a contented sigh as he shifts us to our sides, still connected, his arms keeping me close. “Whatever you say, Daddy.”