I knew it might take a lifetime to act out every fantasy I had regarding Hannah Morgan.
Which was fine with me.
I thought it might take a lifetime and nothing less to get my fill of Hannah Morgan. I suspected I’d go to my grave wanting more of her.
It had thrown her, hearing me speak like that. In forever type terms, telling her how I felt about her. I knew because she was so expressive. And fuck, if I’d loved that when she was writhing under me, taking my cock. When my face was buried in her pussy. When I’d come all over her perfect tits.
My overworked cock came to life just thinking about it.
She wore her pleasure plain as day, and her pain too. It had haunted me all those months. Every night I went to bed, replaying the furrow in her brow, the downcast eyes, the flush in her cheeks, all created by my harsh words and dismissals.
I had to carry that.
Because I’d thought it was for her own good. For mine.
I still had doubts in dark corners of my mind that I was being selfish. Greedy. That I’d somehow fuck this up and hurt Hannahin ways that should be against nature. That I’d hurt Clara in the process.
But I quickly pushed those thoughts aside.
It was remarkably easy to do so with my arms around Hannah, her body pressed into mine, her hair just an inhale away.
This was not a mistake, bringing her into my bed, into our lives.
The mistake would be doing something to lose her.
twenty-four
HANNAH
“You’re in Daddy’s bed.”
I blinked open my eyes, instantly aware and instantly horrified that Clara was standing at the side of the bed, eye level with me.
Beau’s arm was draped over my torso. My luckily clothed torso. If you counted Beau’s tee and panties as clothed.
I was going to move. To do what, I didn’t know. We hadn’t exactly thought this through. Well, we’d thought of this too many times. At least I had. In my wildest fantasies. But that involved a lot of sexual acts, and no consideration for consequences that came from those acts.
Those acts were even better in real life than in my wildest fantasies, if that was to be believed.
And engaging in those acts resulted in me being where I was now. In bed. With Beau. In view of Clara, who up until that moment had only seen me and her father either barely speaking or weirdly dancing around each other. The shock it must’ve been to her system had guilt flooding mine.
My instinct was to move, go back in time, preferably. To make more adult decisions to protect this little girl.
As if reading my mind, Beau’s arm tightened around me, stopping me from moving. His body lurched forward, leaning over to lift Clara into bed with us.
I quickly moved to accommodate her; my heart melted when she snuggled into my arms without hesitation. As though we did that every morning. As if it wasn’t a huge change to her world, her routine.
Clara was easy with affection to those she trusted and loved. Something I’d marveled at, how she’d curl up with me on the couch, hold my hand, kiss Beau unprompted.
Though I wasn’t surprised, given my short, intimate relationship with Beau, he was freely affectionate with me. He hadn’t kept his hands off me since I’d initiated contact on the sofa.
“Hannah is going to be sleeping in my bed from now on. Do you know what that means?” Beau ran his fingers through his daughter’s messy hair.
My breath caught at him stating it so plainly, casually. As if it were going to be this way forever.
“Fuck, I love you, Hannah.”
He’d told me he loved me last night. I had not imagined that. He loved me and he was telling his daughter I’d be sleeping there, in his bed, in his roomfrom now on.
