Chapter 16 - Vince #2
“What if I do it wrong? What if I disappoint you? What if you realise this is too much work and you could have something easier with someone else?”
“There is no someone else.”
“You can’t say that. You barely know me.”
My hand flexed at her nape. “I know you spent an elevator ride shaking and still managed to make a joke that made me want to bite you. I know you work twelve-hour days keeping men twice your age from blowing up shipping routes. I know you fall asleep on my chest and pretend it’s an accident.
I know you’re the only person who’s ever made me think about a life where I’m not waiting for the next emergency. ”
Her eyes searched mine, looking for the trap and not finding one.
“There is no easier for me. There’s you, or there’s nothing. I don’t do casual. I don’t do half-ownership of my own heart. If I take you on as my sub, I’m taking you on as mine. Full stop.”
Her lip wobbled. My thumb slid higher, stroking behind her ear.
“You’re very intense.” She mumbled, blinking back tears.
“Good. I’d worry you weren’t paying attention if you thought I was chill.”
A small, surprised laugh cracked out of her. It cut straight through my ribs.
My hand slid down the back of her neck.
“So Plain language. I want to be your dominant. Full-time. Not just in bed. I want you to let me watch out for you in ways you’re not used to.
Let me worry loud, not quiet. Let me say eat, drink, sleep without second-guessing.
In return, you stop carrying all of it alone.
You throw some of that weight at me. That’s the trade. ”
She moved and kissed me. Her lips barely brushing mine.
“Madeline.”
“Hmm?” A soft hum against my mouth.
“You’re mine.” The truth sat steady in my chest. “From this second on. You can renegotiate any rule. You can call a halt if you ever feel unsafe. You can walk away if you have to. But you don’t ever call yourself not enough in my presence again. Clear?”
“Bossy.” Her mouth twitched.
“Dominant. Say it back.”
“I’m yours.” Her lashes fluttered. “Your… sub.”
I kissed her, slow, steady, nothing fancy. Just that vow humming between our mouths. Mine. My sub. My first.
For her, this was a risk. For me, it might as well have been a wedding. Crows chose once.
I’d just chosen.
Her hand slid up my chest, tugging me closer, mouth parting like she was already feeding me her surrender without even thinking about it. I caught her lower lip between my teeth, nipping once before letting go.
“Such a good girl for me.” My lips brushed hers. “Such a good girl for Daddy.”
She went rigid. Not flinching away. Just locked. Breath held. Every muscle under my hands tense.
Fuck.
Too much. Too fast. Idiot. Fucking idiot. You finally push the one word you’ve been starving for and now she’s going to hate it.
If she couldn’t stand it, I’d kill it. No argument. Bury it so deep in my throat it never saw daylight again. Call myself every other thing she’d let me be and pretend it didn’t gut me.
Because I needed it. The meaning.
Daddy meant she saw me as safe. As the one in charge so she could finally stop bracing. Provider. Protector. Mine. The man on-duty so she could rest.
For Crows, that word was never taboo. It wasn’t some dirty punchline whispered in scenes.
Every man knelt for one woman, and once he did, Daddy came as easy as husband.
Half my cousins’ wives used it interchangeably.
I’d watched Emmeline lean in a dozen times, hand flat on Marcel’s chest in the war room, murmur daddy in that soft St Cross drawl and talk him out of a retaliation that would’ve lit three borders on fire.
One word. You’re the one who keeps us safe. You’re the one I trust.
I’d never really got it.
Then I met Madeline.
Now it was all I wanted from her mouth. Not because it was filthy. though it was. Because it meant she’d decided I wasn’t just dangerous and useful. I was home. The one she could hand control. She trusted.
My palm slid to the back of her neck, thumb stroking slow at the base of her skull.
“Breathe, baby.” My forehead rested against hers. “In. Out.”
She dragged a breath in. Let it out on a tiny sound that killed me.
“You called yourself—”
“Daddy.” I didn’t back off from the word. If I flinched now, it’d turn into something shameful in her head. “Yeah.”
“That’s…”
My thumb kept circling, steady. Touch ground her. “How does it feel? First hit. In your chest. Not your head.”
If she said wrong, I’d cut my own throat before I let it touch her again.
Her eyes shut for a second. “Warm,” she whispered.
“And second hit.”
Shame flickered hard. “Weirdly turned on. When you say it like that. Then quickly I feel dirty. Wrong. Like there’s something broken in me for liking it.”
You and me both, angel.
“But, I like it when you say it like that…” Her voice dropped.
The craving sharpened. Not just for the word, but for what it meant. Her choosing me as that. Letting me carry that weight for her.
“Good.” It slipped out under my breath.
Her eyes snapped to mine. “You can’t just say good like that.”
“Why not.”
“Because it’s weird, Vince. You know the stories. The jokes. Daddy issues.” Her throat worked. “I don’t want to be… that.”
My jaw ticked. “You think I’m volunteering to cosplay your father. When I say it, I am not asking you to be little.”
Her nose wrinkled. “Obviously not, but—”
“Then listen.” My grip at her nape tightened, not enough to scare, just enough to hold her there with me. “Daddy is not about him. It’s about me. About us. My role. Your safety. That’s it.”
Her brows creased. “It still feels… wrong.”
“Madeline.” I let a little Crow steel bleed into my tone. “Vanilla couples use it. Half the kink forums in the world are full of people using that word. Couples. Subs. Brats. Perfectly functional humans who pay taxes and argue about coffee. You think they’re all broken.”
“No.”
“Exactly.” My thumb brushed her jaw. “It’s common. It’s not some taboo ritual no one’s heard of. People use it because it hits something true. Protector. Provider. The one who’s in charge so they can finally fucking relax. That’s what it means when it comes out of my mouth.”
Her lashes fluttered. “Protector.”
“Provider.” I tipped my head closer. “Mine.”
She blushed. And I loved it. That shade of pink in her cheeks. How that look of steel that she wore all day, disappeared.
I was already half feral for the word. But under all that, the truth stayed simple and ugly. Every Crow knelt for one woman. Earning Daddy from hers wasn’t a kink. It was holy. And I fucking wanted it.
“We can try, sir, master or just Vince. They don’t do what Daddy does to me.” No point lying. “But hear me, your comfort outranks everything. Always. If that word ever starts tasting wrong on your tongue, you tell me and it’s gone.”
Selfish bastard that I am, every part of me still screamed don’t take it from me. It had barely been mine and already I knew losing it would feel like someone ripping off a piece of skin. But I’d rather walk around raw than keep a word that hurt my girl.
My thumb traced along her throat, right where a collar would one day sit. Her pulse kicked under my thumb. I felt the swallow.
She stared at my mouth for a long moment, then dragged her gaze up.
“So…Daddy means I’m safe. That you’re in trustworthy. That you’re my protector. My dom and my provider. I’m yours.”
My chest did something ugly and holy at once. Every Crow instinct in me sat down and shut up. This. This was what I’d wanted. Not just a title. The recognition behind it.
“Good girl.” The praise came out rough. “Such a good girl for Daddy.”
This time it wasn’t tension. It was her body leaning into the word instead of away from it.