Page 121 of Scaled Daddy's Secret Heir

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I missed the way her heart stutters against mine.

The way she grabs fistfuls of my back like I’m something to anchor to, not something to fear.

I missed being a man she wanted.

Not a weapon. Not a ghost. Not a memory.

Her.Me.Us.Now.

She’s still pulsing around me in little aftershocks. I stroke her thigh, slow and careful.

“You alright?” I murmur.

She nods, too breathless for words. Her eyes are glassy in the dark, but she holds my gaze like it’s the only solid thing in the room.

“Again,” she whispers.

That undoes me.

“Yeah?” I rasp. “You want more?”

She nods, eyes fierce now. “Wantyou.All of you. As long as you’ve got breath left.”

Gods.

I shift my hips and start to move again, this time slower. More deliberate.

My cock is still buried deep in her—thick and hot and so damn hard it aches—but I don’t chase release.

I chaseher.

Every sound. Every tremor. Every moan like a secret she’s willing to give up just for me.

“Leah,” I whisper, dragging my mouth down her throat, across her collarbone. “You feel like home.”

She arches. “Don’t stop.”

“Not a chance.”

My rhythm builds, slow but relentless. I grind my hips just right, letting the base of my cock hit that sweet spot inside her that makes her whimper.

Her nails scrape down my back—light at first, then deeper. Her mouth is open, panting, legs wide and locked around me.

I fuck her like a promise.

Like I’ve got years to make up for.

Because I do.

The prison. The silence. The war.

All of it’s background noise now.

This is what matters.

The way she keens when I hit that perfect angle. The way her pussy grips me like itknowsme. Like itwantsme.

Like it remembers.

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