After we got back home from the station, we didn’t say much, just naturally fell into each other’s arms and buried the trauma of the evening in pleasure and three successive mind-blowing orgasms.
Now though, the thoughts that I tried to push to the back of mind earlier come flooding back. I can’t stop thinking about his passionate confession back at the station.
“I love her!”
If he does, why hasn’t he said anything then?
“A penny for your thoughts,” Wilder says, his eyes searching my face.
“I’ll take a kiss,” I say with a teasing smile.
Wilder chuckles. “Gladly.”
He leans down to kiss me, slowly, his tongue gliding teasingly between my lips, stroking sensuously over mine with unhurried passion. When he finally pulls back, I’m breathing hard, struggling to find my train of thought.
“Now that I’ve paid my dues, what were you thinking about so hard?” he asks, smiling at me like he didn’t just lethally disarm me.
“You,” I say finally, when I’m sure my voice won’t betray me.
“Now, that must be interesting,” he says, his brows dipping slightly like it always does when he’s curious about something.
I clear my throat, swallowing nervously. “Do you… Did you mean it when you said you love me?”
“I do,” he replies without hesitation. “I love you, Millie. I probably have from the moment I met you.”
My chest tightens so hard it’s almost impossible to breathe. I didn’t know how much I needed to hear those words until he spoke them.
“Why—why haven’t you told me this before?”
“Because…I don’t deserve you, baby girl,” Wilder says with a self-deprecating smile. “I have demons…ones I don’t want you to have to deal with.”
“But—”
“You are capable of making your own choices,” he cuts in gently, his smile turning amused. “I know that.”
“Glad you do,” I say, returning his smile.
The words should be terrifying. For nineteen years, loving someone meant handing them something they could break. But looking at him—this man who faced down his own ghosts to keep me safe, who cleans me up and calls me his and means it—I’m not afraid. For the first time, saying it doesn’t feel like a risk. It feels like coming home.
“I love you too, Wilder.”
“You do?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
Wilder’s eyes darken with a familiar hunger at my words. “You know what it does to me when you call me that,” he murmurs darkly, his thumb gliding beneath my left breast. I moan, my nipples hardening painfully under his touch. “You naughty girl. Want some more of Daddy?”
“Yes, Daddy,” I moan, my cheeks flushing brightly.
He cups my breasts in his big hands, trailing his fingers down my ribs and over my stomach. His fingers slip lower to cup my pussy, squeezing gently.
I gasp, pressing against him.
I nuzzle his neck, nipping at a pulsing vein there. I can feel the unsteady beat of his pulse against my lips, thrumming in rhythm to my heartbeat.
I trail my hand down over his belly to grasp his still-damp cock, and to my delight, he begins to swell beneath my touch.
“Wet,” he murmurs, his fingers gently caressing the folds of my pussy. “Always so wet for me. Would you like to taste yourself, baby girl.”
