“I meant what the fuck I said,” I whisper.
“You’re mine.”
“If I didn’t think that hoe ass nigga would get more enjoyment than pain from it, I would’ve invited him to watch me fuck you just like this,” I say arrogantly before continuing, “make him watch you tell me how nobody has every fucked you like Daddy fucks you while you swallow every inch of me.”
“Ohhhh fuck Calil,” she whimpers as I reach around and stroke her fat dick to the rhythm of my strokes.
She smiles, even through the wreckage.
“Say it.”
“I’m yours! I belong to you Daddy!”
I slap her ass hard enough to make her yelp as I soothe it. “If you belong to me, cum with me like a good girl.”
I’m pounding in and out of her. Taking her surrender. I feel the pressure of my orgasm building with every stroke.
“I fucking love you and I can’t wait to give you my last name,” I growl.
My declaration tips us both over the edge as her release covers my hand in thick cream—mine filling her up. I ease out of her slowly watching the evidence of my orgasm leak and dripfrom her open hole. I’m still turned on watch the way her body reacts in the aftermath of our fucking and lovemaking.
We finally make it to the bed and fall into the sheets — sweaty, spent, satisfied but still wanting—I know this wasn’t just sex.
It was affirmation.
She stood in front of the world tonight and claimed herself. Loved herself the way Lena loved her. The way I love her. Proud and out loud.
The room still smells of amber when she tells me. We’re tangled in sheets. Good sex always puts you in a haze you never want to get out of. Zaria’s head rests on my chest. My fingers tracing slow patterns along her spine. The heat from earlier has softened into the type of intimacy I’d been craving.
Then she goes quiet. I feel it before she speaks.
“They reached out again,” she says finally.
I don’t have to ask who.
“Deadnamed you?” I ask anyway.
She nods against my chest.
My jaw tightens.
“I want to meet them,” she says. “In person. I want to see what they want. And I want to correct them. Face to face.”
I don’t hesitate to ask. “You want me there?”
She lifts her head, searching my face.
“Yes. If it’s not too much trouble.”
No pause. No question. “If they’re going to look at you, they’re going to look at both of us.”
Her shoulders relax slightly.
Later that afternoon, we pull up to her parents’ house a few towns over.
The house looks exactly like I imagined it would. Perfect lawn. Perfect shutters. Perfect silence. Nothing about it feels warm. I step out of the car first and walk around to open her door.
She squeezes my hand once before we walk up together. Dr. and Mrs. Thomas answer the door. They blink when they see me. Their surprise and disdain for their child isn’t subtle.
