I force my eyes up.
His expression softens, just a fraction. “You’re safe,” he says, like he’s not just saying it—he’spledgingit.
My chest squeezes. “I know.”
He presses a kiss to the corner of my mouth, slower now, and then another to my jaw—sweet and patient. He touches me like he means it. Like it matters. LikeImatter.
I swallow hard, trying to find my voice. “This is… unexpected.”
Beau’s mouth brushes my cheek, and he lets out a quiet breath that feels like a confession. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “You are.”
His hands skim my sides—careful, appreciative—then pause as if he’s letting me decide the next step. I reach for him, fingers sliding under his shirt again, and the moment I touch skin, he goes still—eyes flashing with heat.
“Beau,” I whisper.
He cups my face, thumb stroking my lower lip like he can’t resist. “Tell me what you need,” he says, rough and gentle at the same time.
I barely recognize my own courage when I say it. “More.”
His gaze darkens—possessive, protective, undone. “Come here,” he murmurs, and pulls me in until I’m flush against him, until there’s no space left for doubt.
We kiss again—deeper, slower—while his hands learn me in careful passes, and my hands learn him back. Everything feels heightened: the heat of his body, the steady strength in his arms, the way he pauses like he’s listening to me even when I’m not speaking.
I break the kiss just long enough to breathe. “I’m nervous.”
Beau rests his forehead against mine, breath warm on my lips. “Good,” he murmurs.
I blink. “Good?”
His hands tighten at my waist like a promise. “It means it matters,” he says. “And I’m going to take my time.”
My throat tightens—because no one has ever said that to me like it’s a gift.
I nod, eyes stinging for reasons that have nothing to do with the warmth in the room. “Okay.”
Beau kisses me again, softer this time—like he’s sealing the agreement. “This is real.”
I nod. “Okay. I want you to take care of me.”
He smiles. “I can absolutely do that for you, Mila. You can call me Daddy.”
I giggle lightly. “Daddy?”
“Not like your real father, but as your daddy who takes care of you.”
I let the idea wash over me, my body coming alive under his touch. “I like that…” I whisper. “Daddy.”
He growls, his cock hardening between us. “Is this what you want?” he asks me, stroking his long, thick dick in his hand.
I bite my lower lip. “Yes, Daddy.” The word is getting easier and easier to say. I like it. Beau taking care of me like I’m the most precious thing in the world to him.
He pushes his thickness at my entrance, and I moan his name.
“Yes, take my dick.” He pushes in even deeper and my breath hitches slightly.
“It’s just so big,” I tell him, worried it may not fit. “What if it…”
As if he can read my mind he gives me a cocky smile. “Oh, it’ll fit, sweetheart. I can promise you that.” He pushes in even further, stalling for a moment so my body can acclimate to his size.
