Chapter 16
The corridors of the estate are silent at this hour, my footsteps echoing on the polished marble floors.
My rounds are almost complete—just a final check of the east wing before Gunnar takes over the night shift.
I run a hand through my beard, exhaustion beginning to set in after a sixteen-hour shift.
All I can think about is my bed, and maybe, if I’m being honest, about Mackenzi, too.
The memory of her in the kitchen earlier plays in my mind on a loop—the way her eyes widened when I leaned in, the slight parting of her lips, the rapid pulse I’d seen beating beneath the delicate skin of her throat.
I’d come so close to kissing her, but reality came crashing back in when we were almost caught.
She deserves better than a man like me, who can only offer stolen moments between shifts.
As I approach her door, I pause, my hand resting on the polished wood. I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help imagining her in there, sleeping peacefully, and hopefully dreaming of me.
“Damon!”
The sound of her scream slices through the silence, sharp and urgent.
Every muscle in my body tenses. Training kicks in before thought can catch up.
My hand is on the doorknob within a second, turning the knob and shoving it open.
The door swings inward without resistance, with me following immediately behind it.
“Mackenzi? What’s wrong? Are you?—”
The words die in my throat as my eyes adjust to the dim moonlight filtering through her window.
She’s not in danger. At least, not from an intruder or nightmare.
She’s in her bed, the sheets tangled around her legs, one hand buried between her splayed thighs.
Her back is arched, her head thrown back, and my name still echoes in the room.
Blood rushes south so fast, I feel dizzy, grabbing onto the doorframe for balance.
My cock, already half-hard from thoughts of her, now strains painfully against the fabric of my pants.
I should leave. I should apologize, back out, close the door, pretend this never happened.
But I can’t. I’m frozen, transfixed by the most beautiful, intimate sight I’ve ever witnessed.
Her eyes fly open, full of shock and horror.
A gasp escapes her lips as she yanks the covers over herself, scrambling to hide what I’ve already seen.
And already want more of. The movement breaks my paralysis.
I step inside and close the door with a soft click, sealing us in the darkness of her room.
“I’m sorry…” I begin, my voice rougher than intended. “I heard you scream, and I thought…”
“Oh my God,” she whispers, burying her face in the sheets as she pulls them higher up her chest. Even in the dim light, I can see the flush of embarrassment creeping over her face. “Just go.”
“You don’t need to be embarrassed.” The sentence comes out before I can stop it.
“Sure…” Her single word is dripping with disbelief, muffled by the pillow she’s now hiding behind.
I cross the room, my movements deliberate, before flipping on a small bedside lamp. Soft light fills the space, illuminating her face. Her cheeks are a deep crimson, and her eyes are wide and uncertain. I kneel beside her bed, bringing myself to her level.
“You don’t need to be embarrassed, trouble.” I use the nickname that started snidely and has grown to be an endearment. It feels right and natural. I dust the back of my knuckles along her heated cheek, and she shivers at the contact. “I think about you, too.”
Her eyes meet mine, widening slightly. “You do?”
I nod, my thumb dragging over her lower lip.
It’s fuller than I’d imagined, softer. “I’ve been thinking about these lips for the past three hours,” I admit, “and how I missed my opportunity to kiss them earlier.” My tongue darts between my own lips, wetting them slightly.
“And I’m hoping I can make up for that now. ”
Mackenzi nods timidly, and I close the distance between us.
The first touch is electric—a soft, tentative press that quickly deepens.
I angle my head, slanting my mouth over hers, and she responds with a soft sigh that I swallow greedily.
Her lips part, and I take the invitation, my tongue sweeping in to taste her properly.
She tastes of mint toothpaste, and the spicy sweetness is addictive.
Our kiss grows more passionate and demanding.
My hand cups the back of her head, fingers tangling in her soft hair.
Her hands find my shoulders, gripping tightly as if to anchor herself.
I want to lose myself in this moment, to forget everything else—the rules, the responsibilities, and the plethora of reasons this is a bad idea.
All that matters is her—here, and now—kissing me back with an enthusiasm that matches my own.
When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing heavily.
I rest my forehead against hers, my eyes closed as I struggle to regain some semblance of control.
Catching my breath, I notice the hand she was using to pleasure herself is resting on the sheet beside her.
Without thinking, I capture her wrist and bring her fingers to my mouth.
Her breath hitches as I slip them between my lips, moaning around them as I devour the lingering evidence of her arousal.
It’s the most exquisite taste I’ve ever experienced—sweet, slightly musky, and utterly intoxicating.
I suck her clean, coating her fingers with my saliva before pulling them from my mouth with a soft pop.
“Fuck,” I exhale my desire. “Your pussy tastes so fucking good.”
Her cheeks flush even deeper, but that embarrassment doesn’t reach her eyes. There is nothing in those deep chocolate pools but raw, unadulterated need. I press her hand back beneath the sheet and between her thighs. “Show me how you like to be touched,” I command, my voice dropping to a low growl.
She tenses beneath my touch. “No one has ever…” she begins, before trailing off.
“Told you how hot it is to watch you pleasure yourself?” I finish for her.
She shakes her head, answering nervously, “No…”
“That’s a shame,” I murmur, though I can’t say I’m surprised. Boys her age are more interested in getting their dick wet than truly enjoying a woman.
“No… I mean…” She draws in a shaky breath. “Seen me like this. Or at all… I’ve never?—”
Realization dawns at the depths of her confession. While I expected her to be lacking in experience at her age, learning she is completely devoid of it is a shock. I pull back slightly, guilt suddenly warring with desire. “Oh… I didn’t realize you were…”
But she stops my retreat, her hand grasping my wrist. Her thighs part slightly, a silent invitation that makes my cock throb painfully.
“Are you sure?” I ask, my voice hoarse with restraint. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want?—”
“I know.” She nods, her eyes meeting mine with a trust that humbles me.
I kiss her again, softer and more reverent this time as I pull her to the edge of the bed and into my arms. The sheet falls away to reveal a thin sleep shirt bunched around her waist. “May I?” I ask, my gaze dropping to her shirt as my fingers lightly grip the wrinkled cotton.
She hesitates for a second before lifting her arms. My fingertips brush along her skin as they glide up her body.
As the shirt pulls from her head, I get my first view of her naked form in the soft lamplight.
She’s more beautiful than I’d imagined—ample breasts, smooth skin, and soft curves that I want to run my tongue over every inch of.
“Will you show me?” I whisper against her lips, my hands on her hips, thumbs stroking the sensitive skin beneath them. “Show me how you make yourself feel good.”
Her eyes are wide, but she nods slowly, her hand moving down her body.
I watch, mesmerized, as her fingers find the slick folds between her thighs.
She circles her clit, tentatively at first, then with more confidence as she sees the effect it has on me.
My breath catches, and I have to clench my hands into fists at my sides to stop myself from taking over.
“That’s it, trouble,” I encourage, my voice low and rough. “Just like that.”
Her eyes flutter closed, her head falling back as she loses herself in the sensation. Her fingers move faster, circling, pressing, sliding through her arousal. I can’t just watch anymore. I need to be closer, to taste the air around her, and to feel the heat radiating from her skin.
I lower my head, pressing my lips to her inner thigh.
She gasps, her fingers faltering for a moment before resuming their rhythm.
I kiss my way up her leg, alternating soft presses of my lips with gentle nips of my teeth.
The closer I get to where her hand is working, the stronger her scent becomes—giving me more of that sweet, musky scent, making my mouth water and my cock ache.
“Your little whimpers make me so fucking hard,” I growl against her skin, my voice thick with need.
I rise to my feet, my movements fluid and deliberate.
Her eyes follow me, dark with curiosity and desire.
I reach down, lifting her arousal-coated fingers from between her thighs.
Her eyes blow wide as I press them against the stiff bulge straining against the fabric of my pants.
“This is what watching you does to me,” I grit out, my hips arching into her touch.
“Fuck… who am I kidding? This is what you always do to me.”
Her fingers tentatively wrap around me through the fabric, and I have to bite back a groan at the contact. It’s too much and not enough all at once. After a moment, I pull her from me and press her hand between her thighs again, where it belongs.
As her fingers go back to work, I reach for the hem of my shirt, pulling it over my head in one smooth motion.
Her eyes widen at the sight of my bare chest and stomach, the muscles tensing under her appreciative gaze.
“I’m going to take my cock out,” I warn, my hands moving to my belt.
“But I promise, I’m just going to watch you. ”
She lightly bites her lower lip and nods her understanding.
The sound of my zipper lowering seems impossibly loud in the quiet room.
I free myself from my pants, and my cock springs loose, hard and ready.
I take a seat beside her, not touching, but close enough to feel the heat radiating from her body.
I wrap my hand around my length, stroking slowly as I watch her. My free hand lightly dusts over her skin, tracing from the curve of her hip to the swell beneath her breast. She shivers under my touch, her fingers moving faster between her thighs.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” I murmur in admiration. “Show me how gorgeous you are when you come.”
She rubs at her clit, trying to give me what I’m asking for.
“Come on… You can do it.”
Her back bows slightly from the mattress, and a soft cry escapes her lips when her orgasm washes over her. It’s so fucking tantalizing, I nearly come from the sight. I have to stop stroking myself, gripping the base of my cock tightly to hold back my own release.
“Such a good girl,” I praise, fighting to keep what little restraint remains.
She pulls her hand back, still trembling with aftershocks, but I stop her with a gruff whisper. “Don’t stop.” Her eyes meet mine, questioningly. “Your little pussy needs some practice if you’re ever going to be able to take my cock. Slide your finger inside for me.”
A flush spreads across her cheeks, but she obeys, easing a finger into her pussy with a soft whimper. I don’t know whether it’s the sight or how easily she obeys my command, but she has me struggling to hold back my release once more.
“You listen so well to Daddy.” The title slips out before I can stop it. Her eyes widen at the honorific, but desire flares in their depths. She likes it.
I watch her for a minute, my hand resuming slow, leisurely strokes up and down my shaft as she explores herself. “Can you fit another finger in that tight little hole?” I ask, my voice dropping to a low growl.
She bites her lip, a moan unlike anything I’ve ever heard spilling from her lips as she struggles to fit another digit inside. Her brow furrows with concentration, her breath coming in ragged pants.
“That’s it,” I encourage, my own strokes becoming faster and more urgent. “Nice and slow. Stretch that tight little pussy for me.”
I fist myself harder, my eyes fixed on the sight of her taking two fingers, slowly working them in and out of herself. The way her body responds, the little sounds she makes, and the concentration mixed with pleasure on her face—it’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen.
“Fuck… You look so good like that,” I grit my praise through breathy pants. “So beautiful, taking your fingers like that. Imagine how gorgeous you’ll be when you’re stretched to the brink around my cock.”
That thought is my undoing. With a guttural groan, I come, ribbons of my release roping across my stomach, some landing on her thigh. She watches, mesmerized, her fingers still buried inside her as she witnesses my loss of control.
For a moment, we’re both still, breathing heavily in the aftermath. I reach for her, pulling her into my arms, not caring about the mess we’ve made. She comes willingly, her body molding against mine as if she were made to fit there.
“You were so perfect for Daddy.”
“Daddy?” she whispers with a nervous giggle, the word sending a fresh wave of desire through me.
I pull back slightly, my eyes searching hers as my thumb traces her lower lip.
“That timid little laugh tells me you like the sound of it as much as I do.” My other hand tightens on her hip, and I softly command, “Say it in earnest. Like you understand exactly what it means to call me that. Because once you say it properly, there’s no going back.
You’ll be mine to protect, mine to please, and mine to teach.
It’ll be who I am when I’m inside you, when I’m watching you come, and when I’m thinking about you every second of every day. Do you want that, trouble?”
I tilt her face toward me, and her eyes search mine as I wait for an answer.
She drags her teeth over her lower lip before whispering, “Yes, Daddy.”
When I capture her lips in a deep, possessive kiss, she melts against me, and I know there’s no going back.
Mackenzi is mine now. And I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her, to protect her, and give her everything she needs—even if it destroys me in the process.