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Fuck, if she heard anything I’ll be pissed. I don’t know why it means so much to me that this day is perfect for her, but it does.
“Angel?” The first grayish pink of the sunrise is coming up over the east side of the lake, casting a glow across the wave tips. The wind kicked up during the night, blowing in a temperature drop and reminding me that Thanksgiving is in a few weeks.
“I’m in here.”
“What are you doing up?” I push open the bathroom door to see her standing there, fresh from the shower and dripping all over the marble floor, sporting a fresh pair of panties with the image of Beauty and the Beast dancing.
“I wanted to take a quick shower before you came back. Today’s the day, right?”
I grab a towel from the counter as I step toward her, opening it up and rubbing it on her dripping hair.
“Yes, Angel, it is. Come on, we’ve waited long enough. I want to show you.”
I scoop her up, leaving the towel in a heap on the floor. A flash of insecurity filters through as my leg reminds me of the parts that are no longer there. Phantom pains, they’re called, and for me they’re a reminder of more than just my missing body parts. I shake it away, nothing is going to come between us today.
We head out the bedroom door toward the stairs and her hands rope around my neck. Already the scent of her is making my chest tighten and my mind spin. I need her.
She has no idea how much.
Chapter Eleven
_______________________________________________
CHASTITY
The scent of the flowers hits me half way down the steps, and Magnus starts kissing me before we even hit the landing, making my body flutter. I feel so small in his arms, so overwhelmed. But when he turns the corner in the hallway off the great room and breaks our kiss, I can see the smile right there, twitching under his thick, black beard. He turns our connected bodies sideways and guides my eyes with his own to the corridor in front of us.
“Oh my God.” My mouth drops open and every girl dream I’ve ever had is blown away.
The corridor floor is lined with vases filled with every kind of white flower I can imagine. Roses. Lilies. Peonies. All pure white and lush with their simple, honest beauty.
“You are too sweet for me, Angel. Too pure. But you’re mine. By whatever grace of God made that so, I will do everything in my power to deserve you. I’m not letting you go. Not ever. You are Daddy’s girl now, and I am going to show you just what that means.”
He strides forward down the hallway, a slight hitch in his step from where his leg was amputated. I swallow, wondering what it will look like. I don’t care, not in that way, I just hope I don’t embarrass myself by staring or looking at it the wrong way. I don’t ever want to hurt his feelings or make him think that it matters to me because it doesn’t.
“Show me,” I whisper, and kiss his cheek, feeling the rough scratch of his beard.
“No, baby, you’re going to show me,” he rumbles as he steps into the enormous bedroom.
There is a massive bed, draped in pure white sheets and about a thousand pillows. Candles are everywhere, lining every flat surface, and a vanilla scent mixes with the smell of flowers in the air.
“Wow.” My eyes dance around the room. It looks like something from a fairy tale.
He doesn’t halt, even for a step, and before I know it he is settling me on the edge of the bed, my legs dangling over the side. Magnus stands straight, and once again I’m in awe of just how enormous he is. His shirtless chest is covered in just the right areas with dark hair, highlighting the thick muscle that tightens and twitches under his skin.
There is a tension in his face; I can tell he’s holding himself back. It only makes me want him more. I can see the erection pushing up and out at the front of his jeans, and it makes me tingle. I squeeze my thighs together as he brings his hands to my cheeks.
“You’re going to do whatever Daddy says, baby. Okay?”
Such soft, sweet words rumbling out of such a hulk of a man.
“Yes, Daddy.” I nod. It feels so natural to call him that, and it’s also making me soak my panties.
“Good girl.” He leans down to take my mouth. His tongue presses forward, urgent, without hesitation. He doesn’t taste sweet or easy; he tastes like wintergreen and a bit of coffee. It’s the taste of a man, and my heart thrums inside me until the room spins.
Our kiss grows frantic, my hands gripping onto his forearms. I love the feel of his muscles under my fingers, flexing and hardening – the way his veins stand out making me melt into a puddle. The size of his forearms would put most men’s thighs to shame.
We break away in a gasp and my body shakes as he stands erect, licking his lips and tracing his gaze over every single one of my curves. I’m still wearing the t-shirt he gave me last night, but he seems to see right through it.
