“Say it,” he growls, one hand sliding up to cuff my throat in a gentle squeeze, making my pulse hammer. “Say who you’re giving yourself to. Say my name.”
“Dice,” I whimper. “It’s you, baby. Only you.”
His eyes seething with heat, he hooks his arms beneath my thighs and lifts my feet off the floor. His cock thrusting into me again, and again, angling each one to grind against my clit. “Mine to fuck,” he groans. “Mine to love.”
“Yes… fuck… yes,” I sob, opening my mouth over his, needing all of him inside me. His breath, his tongue, his voice, his body.
We rock together, our hips like pistons, his arms straining, my legs aching. The rhythm gets faster, the thrusts harder. The pressure builds, coiling tight… until it detonates. I scream as tremors rack my body in a series of rapid explosions, clamping all around him.
“That’s it, baby. Don’t let go. Hold me right there. Make me come.” He pounds into me three more times before roaring my name and spurting hotly inside me, his large frame shaking violently with the force of his release.
All fucked out, he pins me against the wall, his face in my neck, both of us damp with sweat and winded. I’m amazed he’s still standing, let alone has the strength to carry me to the bed.
We collapse on the covers, skin to skin, catching our breath. His arm snug around my waist, our legs tangled. Hands lazily soothing each other through the soft afterglow. This kind of intimacy is still new for me, but I crave it now. The quiet luxury of sharing a bed, of letting myself have both the closeness and the calm.
I fall asleep to the steady cadence of his heartbeat under my cheek.
When I wake, the blankets are pulled high around me and his gaze is waiting, open and unguarded. Touched by his vulnerability, I lift a hand from under the covers and slide it up to his jaw and trace his lips. “Sorry I knocked out on you.”
“I don’t mind.” He kisses my fingers. “I dozed off too. You wore me out.”
“Me? You did all the work.”
“The kind of work I love.” Hegrins.
But it fades a moment later when I ask, “Speaking of work, what time are you going to Docks?”
“Benny’s covering for me. I wasn’t in the mood to be there tonight.”
The reason hangs like a cloud between us. “Do you want to talk about it now?”
He nods, his gaze apologetic, fingers lacing through mine. “I wasn’t shutting you out earlier.”
“I know. Sometimes you just need to process first.”
“Yeah, I do.” His throat works on a swallow. “It was a rough conversation. I thought he’d tell me he was unfit, something that would make sense for why he couldn’t be a father to me. But it wasn’t that. He was never with Jasinder in any real way. Just sex after meeting in a bar. She shook him down for money. He paid even though he wasn’t sure I was his. But when I was a year old, he knew. He knew he had a kid. He knew Jasinder was a thief and a con. And still didn’t do shit. He chose the life he wanted—his career, his plans—over me.”
My chest hurts, the ache slicing down the middle.
“The worst part was he acted as if thirty-four years of nothing could vanish just because he told me the truth. He said he wanted me in his life. Both of his sons. Like some neat little family reunion.” His laugh is brittle. “I couldn’t. So, I walked out. Gave him the same fucking nothing he gave me. But afterward… I felt like shit. Like I let Damon down.”
“You didn’t let anyone down.” I stare into the guilt and conflict etched on his face. “He doesn’t get to dump his mess and expect you to just accept it. You’re allowed to be mad. To grieve. To choose. You don’t owe him forgiveness or a timeline. This isn’t about him or Damon. This is about you. Whatever you decide. On your terms.”
“I just feel…”
“What, baby?” I stroke my thumb over his knuckles.
“Like I’ve got nothing left to give to the anger. I’ve nursed it for years. Living in the shadow of a ghost without a name, without a face.That became my story. A father who didn’t want me. A mother who was a con. Blaming myself for both.” He breathes out each word. “Jasinder’s been gone since I was sixteen. She’s toxic, destructive. That door’s closed. With Hayden… it’s different. I hate what he did. The choice that he made. But he’s not the monster I built him up to be. He’s ashamed. Remorseful. He wants to make up for it, even though he can’t. I don’t know what I’m going to do about him moving forward. But I do know this: I can’t let what he did keep defining me. Not anymore. Maybe that’s enough for now.”
Tears sting my eyes. “That’s more than enough, Dice. That’s everything.”
“So, you don’t think I’m broken?”
“No. I know exactly the man you are. Your parents failed you, but they didn’t break you.”
His eyes burn bright as he leans in and kisses me with his whole heart. “I didn’t know how much I needed you here,” he murmurs against my lips. “I couldn’t do this without you.”
“And you won’t have to.”
