“Come on, baby girl. Let me feel you squeeze my cock. I want to feel you come all over me.”
Her body tightens, back arching as the orgasm hits her. She cries out my name, pulsing around me in rhythmic waves. The sight and feel of her coming pushes me close to the edge, but I hold back, slowing my thrusts to draw it out for her.
When she catches her breath I flip us so she’s on top, straddling me. “Ride me,” I tell her, hands on her hips. “Show me how much you want it.”
She braces her hands on my chest and starts moving, rolling her hips in a rhythm that makes my eyes roll back. I grip her ass, guiding her, thrusting up to meet her.
“Look at you,” I growl. “Bouncing on Daddy’s cock like a filthy little girl. So pretty when you’re stuffed full. You love it, don’t you? Love feeling me so deep inside you.”
“Yes,” she gasps. “I love it.”
I sit up, wrapping one arm around her waist and taking a nipple into my mouth while she rides me harder. I suck and bite gently, then switch to the other side. Her moans grow louder, more desperate.
“I’m going to fill you up,” I say against her skin. “Pump you so full you will still feel me later. You want that? Want Daddy’s cum deep inside this perfect pussy?”
She nods frantically, grinding down on me. “Yes. Please.”
I thrust up harder, meeting her movements, and rub her clit again. She comes a second time with a sharp cry, clenching around me so tightly it pulls me over the edge with her. I groan her name as I spill inside her, hips jerking with each pulse.
We collapse together, breathing hard, bodies slick with sweat. I kiss her slowly, tenderly now, stroking her back and hair while we come down.
“You’re incredible,” I whisper. “Every single time.”
She smiles against my chest, lazy and satisfied. “That was… a very good distraction.”
I chuckle and kiss the top of her head. “Glad I could help. Now, how about we make some pancakes? I’m starving after that workout.”
Her eyes light up. “Pancakes sound perfect.”
We climb out of bed, pulling on comfortable clothes. I wear sweatpants and nothing else. Sadie borrows one of my flannel shirts, the sleeves rolled up, the hem hitting her mid-thigh. She looks adorable and sexy all at once. In the kitchen I pull out the ingredients while she finds the mixing bowl.
We work side by side at the counter. I measure the flour and she cracks the eggs, laughing when a bit of shell falls in and I fish it out with my fingers. I flip the first pancake on the griddle and she steals a piece of bacon from the plate, popping it into her mouth with a mischievous grin.
“Thief,” I tease, swatting her lightly on the ass.
She giggles and leans into me. “You love it.”
“I do.” I wrap an arm around her waist from behind and kiss the side of her neck while she stirs the batter. “Tell me something about you I don’t know. Something from before all this mess.”
She thinks for a moment. “I used to bake a lot with my mom when I was little. Chocolate chip cookies mostly. She always let me eat the raw dough even though she said it was bad for me.”
I smile and press another kiss to her shoulder. “I can picture that. Little Sadie covered in flour, sneaking dough when no one was looking.”
She laughs. “Guilty. What about you? Before the military, what were you like?”
I flip another pancake, golden and perfect. “Quiet kid. Grew up on a small farm in Montana. Learned to ride horses before I could drive. Spent more time in the barn than in school some days. My dad taught me how to fix anything with baling wire and duct tape. Guess that’s where I got the habit of keeping things running around here. He also taught me how to track animals in the woods behind the barn.”
We talk easily while the pancakes stack up and the bacon crisps. She tells me about her favorite books and how she once tried to dye her hair purple in high school and it turned out more like muddy brown. I tell her about the time my team in the military tried to cook Thanksgiving dinner in the desert with nothing but MREs and a camp stove, and how it ended with everyone laughing so hard they almost got caught by patrol.
She laughs until tears form in her eyes, leaning against the counter for support. I pull her close and kiss her, tasting maple syrup on her lips from the piece she stole earlier.
“You have a great laugh,” I tell her. “I want to hear it every day.”
We sit at the small table to eat, plates piled high. Between bites we keep talking, learning the small details that make a person real. Her favorite color is deep green, like the pines outside. Mine is the blue of the sky right before a storm. She hates mushrooms but loves strawberries. I can’t stand black licorice but will eat almost anything else.
The conversation flows naturally, light and warm, the earlier tension from Magnus fading into the background for now. Every laugh, every shared story pulls us closer. I watch her across the table, cheeks flushed from cooking and from the morning we shared, and feel that deep certainty settle in my chest again. This is what I want. Not just the heat between us, but this. The everyday moments. The pancakes and the stories and the easy laughter.
When the plates are empty I reach across the table and take her hand.
