We writhe and contort and twist and fall together, tangled up in bliss and covered in sweat and cum. We're whole for once, in perfect accord. Our cries of ecstasy blend into a sigh of completion that echoes throughout the room. And for the first time that I can remember, I let someone see me cry.
I bury my face in his throat, clinging to him as sobs wrack my body.
"Baby girl," he whispers, kissing all over my face. "Shh, pretty baby. I'm right here." He holds me close, running his hands all over me, worshipping me again. He shelters me with his body, my daddy in every way.
"I'm sorry," I whisper what feels like a lifetime later. We're in the bathtub, tangled up together as closely as we were in the bed. He hasn't let me go once, not even to start the water. He's holding me so close; I don't think he's ever going to let me go again.
"Never apologize to me, pretty baby," he whispers back, brushing strands of hair out of my face. "You needed that."
I bob my head in a nod, turning my face up to his.
He seems to know what I want. He kisses me softly, sweetly.
"Did I hurt you?" he asks when he pulls away.
"No," I assure him. He didn't hurt me at all. It was just intense. For the first time in my life, I felt peaceful, completely at ease with myself. " I think I was just overwhelmed. I guess there's always been this feeling of…dirtiness, maybe. Like needing you to be my daddy was wrong or made me bad. I kind of expected that it would always feel like that, but it doesn't. I feel peaceful. Right." I pause, not sure I'm making any sense. "I never imagined it could be so beautiful."
"My sweet girl," he murmurs against my lips. "What am I going to do with you?"
"Love me."
His lips curve into a smile. "Don't you know? I've loved you all along."
"I think I did know," I admit, curling up in his lap again.
"You just weren't ready to believe it."
"I've never had that before…someone to love me."
"Ainsley loves you."
He's right. She does. But this is different.
"Needing a daddy doesn't make you bad," he murmurs. "What happens between us will never be anything less than right. It's my job to take care of you, to give you what you need. Sometimes, it'll be rough. We'll say and do filthy things. Other times, it'll be soft. But I will never make you feel anything less than perfect, Milan. That's my promise to you as your daddy. You will never feel anything less than completely accepted and wholly adored."
"I think I already feel that way," I say.
"Good," he grunts. "Then I'm doing my job right."
I smile as he wraps me up in his arms again, trailing kisses all over my shoulders. We stay just like that for several minutes before he grabs a loofah and dumps his body wash onto it to wash me up.
"I love this," he murmurs, running the loofah down my belly.
"Bathing me?"
"Taking care of you," he corrects. "I've wanted to do it for so long."
"You've been doing it for a long time. You're the reason my father showed up at my eighteenth birthday," I say, and then bite my lip. "You're also the reason I feel safe at his house. I know I'm never really alone, that you have someone watching me."
"I watch you."
I freeze and then pull back to look at him. "You watch me?"
The loofah circles my belly.
"All the time," he admits, meeting my gaze. The truth reflects in his eyes, burning bright. He's not ashamed of it in the least. "I've sat outside your house for hours, just waiting for you to walk past the window or step outside so I could catch a glimpse of you."
"I didn't know that."
"There's a lot you don't know."
"Like what?"
He stares at me for a long moment as if silently debating how much to tell me. "The camera outside your front door. And outside of the guest suite here." He swallows hard, nervous. "I never put one inside your personal space. I didn't go that far."
"Oh," I whisper, not sure how I feel about that.