Her expression turns, quick and quiet. Not surprise, exactly.
"You're telling me I'm stuck with you," she says.
"Sadly, yes."
She kisses me again, slowly, both hands cupping my jaw, and when she pulls back her eyes are bright.
"I love you too," she says. "I never stopped."
I press my forehead to hers. She stays there a moment, then pulls back. Her gaze snags somewhere around my chin instead of my eyes, and her thumb finds the loose strand of hair at her collar and twists it.
"The cancerversary is this weekend," she says. "You know, Cancer-Butt-Kicking-Day, but with a name Mom approves?"
"Of course," I chuckle. "Who could forget Cancer-Butt-Kicking-Day?"
"Dad's on grill duty, so expect everything slightly on fire." The strand of hair gets a twist between her thumb and forefinger. "But literally everyone they know has been invited and it's going to be a great party."
She runs out of momentum there, takes a deep breath, then continues.
"You should come. If you want to." It comes out in a rush. "You can also say no. I understand if it's a lot for you, spending an afternoon with a bunch of strangers."
"Yes," I say. "Of course I'll come."
The smile that lifts her face would be reward enough for the walk over hot coals.
Then her expression turns mischievous, and she kisses me again, her lips demanding and imperious against mine. Maddie makes a small, startled sound as my arm closes around her and she ends up with her feet off the floor, tucked against my chest. Then she stops being startled and loops an arm around my neck.
"Hello," she says.
"Hello."
I turn to the desk and sweep my arm across the surface and the paperwork cascades to the floor. The lease. The Meridian Pacific folder. The other files. The whole carefully organized evening, gone.
I set Maddie on the desk like an idol to be worshipped.
Her eyes are dark. The lamp at the corner throws warm light across her face, across the pale fabric of the nightgown, across the slide of her hair over one shoulder.
I drop to my knees and drape her legs around my shoulders.
She makes a sound when she understands, small and involuntary, and it goes directly to my nerve endings and makes my cock twitch.
"Demetrius," she says.
I push the hem of the nightgown up over her thighs and look at her. Pink and bare and slick already, the scent of her arousal filling my nostrils, pulling something primal straight up from the floor of my chest.
I press my lips to the inside of her knee.
She gasps.
I take my time getting there, working up the soft inside of her thigh until she makes the sound I was waiting for, the edge of impatience cracking through, and then I press my tongue against her perfect pussy in one long, firm stroke and her hips snap forward.
Maddie's hands find my horns as I lick her from her opening to her tiny bundle of nerves in one long, slow stroke.
That is still, unambiguously, my favorite thing. Her grip on my horns, the surprising strength of her small fingers as she tilts her head backward and shuts her eyes to focus on the sensations. I growl against her and her thighs tighten around my neck.
I work her with my mouth, tracing and tasting, cataloguing every shift of her hips, every tightening of her fingers. She is soaking, warm and sweet, and completely uninhibited about the sounds she makes. I press one finger inside her, slow and deliberate, and she clenches around me so tight I nearly climax in my pants.
I add a second finger and curl forward.
