Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
Marie
Iwoke up slowly, awareness filtering in through layers of the deepest, most peaceful sleep I'd had in years. The bed was soft beneath me, the sheets smooth against my skin, and there was warmth beside me, solid and real.
It was Wade.
My eyes opened, and the first thing I saw was him sleeping beside me. The ocean beyond the glass walls was painted with sunrise, and the light caught in his platinum hair, making it look more gold than usual.
He was beautiful. Devastatingly, impossibly beautiful.
His hair was mussed from sleep, falling across his forehead, softening the lines of his face. His skin was light and a beautiful contrast against mine where my arm rested over his chest.
This man had saved me, had listened when I crashed into him desperate and bleeding, and had mobilized resources I couldn't even comprehend to rescue women he'd never met.
He’d given me a safe place to heal, carried me when my feet hurt, and had touched me so sweetly last night. He’d kept me present and grounded through pleasure I'd thought was impossible for someone like me.
And yet he'd asked for nothing in return. Nothing except my trust and my presence in his home, my willingness to let him care for me.
I felt my throat tighten with emotion—love and gratitude. This powerful man wanted me as his and showed me what it meant to be cared for. He wanted to be my daddy.
The word made heat flood through me immediately, and my face flushed.
My thighs pressed together as memories from last night came rushing back.
He'd knelt between my legs and tasted me, that word falling from my lips so naturally when nothing else would come.
It had settled me, given me something to hold onto when I couldn't find any other words.
Daddy. He was my daddy, and I loved it. I loved how safe it made me feel, and loved how right it sounded. I loved how he'd responded when I'd called him that.
My eyes traveled down his body, taking in details I hadn't had time to appreciate last night. The breadth of his shoulders visible above the sheets, the defined muscles of his arms, the rise and fall of his chest.
He was shirtless, and I could see the trail of light hair that started at his sternum and disappeared beneath the sheets, leading down to where they were pooled around his waist.
And lower still, to the unmistakable evidence of his arousal straining against gray sleep pants.
My breath caught. He was hard, he’d probably been hard when we fell asleep, and the sight of it made something curious and heated curl in my belly.
I'd seen plenty of erections at The Sanctuary, and I’d learned to hate them, to dread them, to associate them with pain, violation, and everything I wanted to forget.
But this was different. This was Wade's, attached to the man who'd given me pleasure without demanding return, the man who’d packed my clothing and rubbed my feet.
Looking at the outline of him straining against the fabric, I didn't feel dread. I felt curious, intrigued. Wanting in a way I'd never experienced before.
He'd tasted me last night, and I wanted to return the favor. I wanted to taste him the way he'd tasted me, to make him feel as good as he'd made me feel, and to show him that I could give this to him without fear. To show him I wanted to.
I moved quietly, not wanting to wake him yet.
I slid down his body until I was level with his hips, my heart racing with nerves and excitement.
The morning light was gold and pink, the waves provided a rhythmic soundtrack, and I felt almost dreamlike as I reached for the waistband of his sleep pants.
My fingers trembled slightly as I pulled the fabric down, slow and careful, revealing inch by inch until he sprang free.
Oh.
He was big. Definitely bigger than I'd expected, thick and long and already hard, flushed dark at the tip where moisture was already beading.
And somehow—pretty. It sounded silly in my head, but he was somehow, in a way I'd never thought one could be. It curved slightly, a pinkness at the head against his lighter skin.
I reached out tentatively, tracing my fingers along the length of him, and felt him twitch in response. He was hot and velvet-soft over steel. I wrapped my hand around him, feeling the weight and heat of him, and was shocked by how much I didn't hate this.
I wanted to explore, to learn, to understand what made him feel good.
At The Sanctuary, I'd learned to dissociate, to disappear inside my head and let my body go through motions while my mind was far away. But this, touching my daddy while he slept peacefully in the morning light, I was completely present. Completely here, and I liked it.
I stroked him slowly, watching how his breath changed slightly even in sleep, and felt a power I'd never experienced. Not power over him, but power in choosing this. In wanting this. In being curious and safe enough to explore without fear.
I leaned forward, pressing a tentative kiss to the head, and tasted salt and musk. My tongue darted out, licking across the slit where moisture had gathered, and I heard him make a soft sound in his sleep.
Emboldened, I took the head into my mouth, just the tip, sucking gently while my hand continued stroking the rest of him.
He was big enough that I couldn't take much without effort, but this felt manageable. This felt good. His taste was warm, and the weight of him on my tongue felt intimate.
I sucked a little harder, taking him a little deeper, and his entire body tensed. His breathing changed from deep and even to sharp and aware.
"Fuck—" The word came out rough and sleep-graveled, and then his hand was in my hair, just touching. Stroking through my braids as he woke up and took in what was happening.
I looked up at him through my lashes, my mouth still wrapped around him, and saw the exact moment full awareness hit. His pale blue eyes went wide, then dark with heat, and his lips curved into a slow, indulgent smirk that made my stomach flip.
"Well," he drawled, his voice rough and sexy and doing things to me. He brought his other arm up to rest behind his head, the picture of casual indulgence despite his cock in my mouth. "Have you found yourself breakfast, darling?"
I pulled off him with an audible pop, my hand still stroking while I grinned up at him with what I hoped was playful innocence. "The best kind. It’s all protein.”
His laugh was surprised and genuine, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Christ, you're trouble when you're feeling brave, aren't you?"
"You make me feel brave," I admitted, then took him back in my mouth before he could respond, sucking hard enough to make that smirk falter into something more strained.
"Fuck, Marie." His hand tightened in my hair, not controlling but present. "That's it. Just like that, darling."
I experimented with rhythm, with pressure, with hollowing my cheeks the way I'd been taught. This time, though, it wasn't performance. It was genuine curiosity, genuine want to make this man feel good.
I watched his face, learning what made his breath hitch, what made his hips shift slightly, what made his fingers tighten in my hair.
"Good girl," he praised, his voice rough velvet that made me clench with need. "Learning what daddy likes so quickly. You’re so eager to please."
The word daddy made me moan around him, taking him deeper despite the stretch, and his jaw clenched with the effort of staying still.
“You like it when I call myself that, don't you?" His smirk was back, lazy and knowing. "Like being daddy's good girl even when you're the one with your mouth on me."
I pulled off again, stroking while I looked up at him. "I like calling you that, being yours."
“Oh, fuck.” The word was strangled, and then his hips lifted slightly, urging. "Take more if you can, darling. Or stay right there on the tip if that's what feels good. Whatever you want."
I took the encouragement and took him a little deeper, feeling the stretch at the corners of my mouth. His hand was still stroking through my hair, gentle and grounding, and I used that touch as my anchor while I worked him with my mouth and hand.
"That's perfect," he groaned, his hips lifting again to meet my rhythm. "Just like that. Fuck, your mouth feels so good.”
I hummed around him, pleased with the praise, and watched his abs contract with the effort of not thrusting. He was holding back, letting me set the pace and explore without taking control.
I loved him for giving me this power, this choice, this safety to want intimacy without fear.
I pulled off again, licking down the underside, and his face was contorted with pleasure. "Am I doing okay?"
"Okay?" His laugh was breathless. "Darling, you're perfect. A natural at making daddy feel so good."
The praise made me glow, made me want to do even better.
I took just the head back in my mouth, suckling it like candy while my hand worked the rest of him in firm strokes.
His hips lifted again, more insistent this time, and I could tell he was getting close by the way his breathing had gone ragged.
"Marie." My name came out strained, warning. "I'm going to come soon, darling. You need to—"
I sucked harder, taking him deeper, and that was answer enough. I wanted this. Wanted all of him.
He groaned low and deep, his hand tightening in my hair, and then he pulsed hot and thick on my tongue. I swallowed down every drop, because it was his. I wanted this, and making him fall apart felt like the most powerful thing I'd ever done.
When he finally went still, I pulled back slowly, licking my lips clean, looking up at him with what I hoped was a satisfied expression.
His eyes were dark and sated, his chest rising and falling with harsh breaths, and then he lifted one hand, crooking his finger at me in a clear command. "Come here."