Chapter 22
I hastily undo my pants and shove them to my thighs, freeing my cock. It springs lose, and her eyes widen at the sight, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. When I lift her from the floor, her legs instinctually wrap around my waist. Her back presses against the cold door as I pin her to it.
“Are you ready for Daddy’s cock?” I ask, positioning myself at her entrance.
“Yes.” She nods, her eyes locked on mine.
I sink into her in one smooth motion, burying myself to the hilt. We both groan at the sensation, her pussy enveloping me and stretching to accommodate me. “So tight,” I grit out. “So fucking perfect.”
I work my hips, slowly at first, then faster as my need builds. Her hips meet mine thrust for thrust as her nails dig into my shoulders through my shirt. The door rattles with the force of our movements, the sound echoing in the stairwell.
“You feel so good,” I pant against her neck, fucking her hard, and not caring who hears from the other side of this door. “So fucking good wrapped around Daddy’s cock.”
“Harder, Daddy,” she demands. “Harder.”
I comply, driving into her with enough force to make her gasp. The coil of tension in my gut tightens, the need to release building with every thrust. “I’m gonna put a baby in this pretty pussy,” I growl. “Would you like that, Doc? My baby growing inside of you?”
Her eyes widen, a fresh wave of arousal flooding her system. I can feel it in the way she clenches around me and the sudden, desperate sounds she’s making. “Yes,” she gasps, sounding like she’s surprised even herself.
“Yes, what?” I demand, slowing my movements to short, shallow thrusts to tease her. “Tell me what you want.”
“Your cum…” she pants. “Deep inside me.”
With a guttural groan, I bury myself deep inside her and lose control.
My orgasm crashes through me, and I fill her with my seed.
She follows me over the edge, her pussy clenching around me as she comes again, milking every last drop from me.
I stay buried inside her as the two of us struggle to catch our breaths.
When we do, I carefully pull myself from her and lower her to the ground.
My hands lingering on her skin, I adjust her panties, pulling them back into place to cover her pussy and keep my cum from seeping out of her.
I help her put on her worn scrub pants and thread the drawstrings through my fingers to tie them into a bow.
She watches me intently, a soft smile playing on her lips as I help her with her sneakers and tie each in a double knot.
“What?” I ask, glancing up at her.
“Nothing,” she says, but her eyes tell a different story. “Just… You fuck so rough… but you’re so gentle.”
“Just giving you what you need. What you deserve.” I capture her mouth in another kiss.
This one is softer, sweeter, and unhurried.
Our mouths fit together like we’ve done this a thousand times and will do it a thousand more.
When I pull back, her breath is still uneven, and her hands rest lightly on my hips like she’s afraid to ask for more but not ready to let go. “Feel better?”
She laughs softly. “A little.”
“Come on,” I say, taking her hand and leading her back to the steps, where we left her food container.
I sit first, then pull her down beside me, our shoulders touching, knees pressed together.
When I put the container in her hands, I notice that the plastic lid has fogged over with condensation.
“You should eat before your meal gets completely cold.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You need to eat, Blake.” My tone is firm but gentle. “You probably haven’t had anything since this morning, have you?”
My answer comes in the form of her popping the lid off the container. She pushes the—previously—hot German potato salad around with her fork before filling it. After taking a bite, her eyes widen as she moans softly around the fork. “Oh my God. This is really good.”
“I’ll let the chef know,” I share, causing her to look at me with a little confusion. “Damon helped since I am, apparently, a hazard in the kitchen.
“A hazard?”
“I’m capable of making semi-burnt grilled cheese and occasionally edible scrambled eggs.”
She takes another bite, chewing thoughtfully before sassing, “Maybe I should be dating him.”
I arch a brow. “So, we’re dating?”
She fumbles, chewing too fast, swallowing like she’s suddenly aware of every word she’s saying. “Well… you are trying to knock me up, so I sure hope so.”
Dating… Me and this incredible woman.
I want it. I need it. I want mornings and messes and her laugh filling a place that feels like home. The thought of putting a baby in her—of tying her to me forever in a way that’s soft and irrevocable—settles deep in my bones like it’s the reason we’re here. Meeting her was destiny.
She fills the fork again and lifts the bite to her mouth. The sleeve of her jacket shifts, riding slightly up her arm. The bruise beneath it is impossible to miss. It’s fresh, dark, angry, and fucking finger-shaped.
“Did I do that last night?” I ask, already hating myself over the mere possibility that I was unintentionally far too rough with her.
“No.” She vehemently shakes her head. “It wasn’t you. It was a… patient.”
Reaching out, I gently take her wrist into my hand and pull the sleeve back. The bruise is worse than I initially thought. Seeing red, my jaw clenches hard enough to crack teeth.
“Who?” I ask, barely containing the rage boiling through my veins. Any man brazen enough to put his hands on her doesn’t deserve to keep them. “Who did this to you?”
She quickly diverts my stare, and her shoulders draw together like she’s bracing for a fight.
Staring into her food and poking at it with her fork, she avoids answering me.
But I don’t need an answer. I know. I’ve been waiting for this shoe to drop since the moment I found the handwritten threat in her trash.
I swallow hard, forcing my voice to soften.
“Blake, look at me.” When she doesn’t, I slip my finger under her jaw and delicately encourage her to.
Her lower lip trembling, she struggles to hold my gaze.
Deep in my gut, a primal instinct stirs, and I’m ready to burn the world down to protect her.
“I need you to tell me,” I insist softly. “So I can help. So I can stop this.”
“It’s nothing.” I know her lie is out of self-preservation, but it still hurts.
“Blake…”