7. Matilda

CHAPTER 7

Matilda

“Yes, Dad.” I inwardly groan as I flop down on Big Daddy’s inviting sofa. It’s nearly the size of my queen-sized bed in width. Staring at him shirtless and barefoot in his kitchen, I feel my sex pulse and leak with desire.

“I just want you safe, Matilda. You don’t know this man.” But I do. I know his heart and soul. It’s only been twenty-four hours since he rescued me on the side of the road, but I feel in my heart that I was born to belong to this mountain of a man.

“I do, though, Dad. He’s everything I never knew I needed in my life. He takes care of me in a way I’ve never known before.” And after what I said last night, I understand why my dad’s skeptical. It’s my own doing, so now I’m responsible for undoing it. “Wait until you meet him to reserve judgment, please?” I affect a pout in my voice that I know he won’t be able to resist.

“Fine,” he sighs. “Tomorrow night. Dinner, here. Please don’t be late, Matilda.”

I frown at this comment. “When am I ever late for anything? I’m not with Mom anymore.” The woman believed fashionably late was on time.

“Fair point. Call me in the morning so I know he hasn’t murdered you.” I burst out laughing at his joke and promise I will before we hang up.

Slipping into the kitchen, I’m immediately assaulted by the spicy aroma of marinara sauce and melting cheese. “That smells divine.” Kissing Big Daddy’s back as I wrap my arms around his front…or attempt to…he’s too broad for my hands to reach each other. I feel so at home with him here.

“How’d that conversation go?” He glances over his shoulder at me, his chocolatey eyes alight with concern.

“Good. I apologized for what I said last night. I still can’t believe I did that. He forgave me and said it was only natural after the way my mother stifled my teenage years, but he wants to grill some steaks for us tomorrow. Is that okay? I should have asked if you had to leave first. Shoot. Do you have to leave?” My heart pounds with the possibility that he might. I don’t want him to, not yet.

Turning around, he grips both my wrists in one of his powerful hands, and the other, he cups the back of my head and drags me closer, forcing me up onto my toes. “Baby girl, breathe.” I nod and do as he says. “It’ll be fine. I pick up loads when and where I want to. Besides, my sweet little girl begged her Daddy to put a baby in her belly, and I aim to do that before I go anywhere else again.”

“Oh my.” I sag against him and blush, thinking about that moment. I don’t know what came over me, but it felt so right and was exactly what I wished for. “Do you think we could try again tonight?” Kissing the center of his chest, I flick my gaze up to his.

“Baby, we’ll be going all night long because I’m determined to make it happen before the morning.” I giggle at the seriousness of his tone, loving his determination. “But not before I feed you a proper meal.” He grunts as he picks me up, placing me on the island counter opposite where he was prepping.

“What are we having?” I glance at the stove and spot a box of pasta. “If my mother were here, she wouldn’t let me within ten feet of that.” For so long, I was on a restricted diet, and I resented it. I never got to enjoy food. And since coming to Jacksonville, I have found that I have a very untried palate. Pasta, however, is my kryptonite.

“Chicken parmesan tonight, with garden salad and a toasted garlic butter baguette.

“That sounds like heaven,” I sigh and flutter my lashes at him.

His lips quirk up in amusement as he goes back to cooking. I steal a carrot before he can grate it into the salad and start munching. “How can I help?” I eventually ask. “I’m not very good in the kitchen, but I can try.” It’s a bone of contention for me because I’d love to be able to whip up a good, hearty meal for my man after he’s been on the road all day. “Will you teach me?”

I give him an earnest look as our eyes meet. “Let me take care of you tonight, princess. In the morning, we’ll make breakfast together.” Planting a kiss on my lips, he licks me until I open for him, and slowly, he plunders my mouth the way he does between my legs.

I don’t know how long we kiss, but he reluctantly backs off when a timer beeps. “Mmmm,” I moan, licking my lips to get more of him.

Pressing his thumb against my bottom lip, he pulls it down, and I open my mouth. “Fuckin’ delicious,” he growls, and I smile as he pulls away to take the chicken out and finish up getting the rest of dinner made.

We eat leisurely, stealing touches and sharing heated looks before cleaning up quietly together. Big Daddy has dessert delivered to the house—a double chocolate cake with ice cream that is nearly orgasmic. Before Daddy, I would have said completely orgasmic, but I know better now.

Sitting on the back porch, overlooking his slice of the beach, we feed each other bites while I sit in his lap before I become too worked up and slip my clothes off, not caring that someone could see me. I need my Daddy, and I need him now.

“I’m ready for you, Daddy.” Turning around, I give him my back, popping my ass in the air as I bend over, standing between his legs. Stretched forward on the lounger, I wiggle until I feel his fingers dig into the soft globes of my ass.

“Yes, you are,” he mutters, tugging me back and lifting me to my tippy toes. I squeak in surprise as he dives face-first into my pussy like I’m his last meal. Resting my head on the seat, I savor how he devours me. Sucking my lips, flicking his tongue across my clit, pushing his tongue into my hole.

When he moves back, I’m so surprised I can’t breathe. He kisses my rosebud, licking across it and groaning his pleasure.

“Daddy?” My voice quivers with uncertainty and bliss. I never imagined I would enjoy this.

“Close your eyes and breathe, princess. Daddy’s going to take good care of you.” And he does. Such good care. He spends the night dumping load after load of built-up baby batter deep inside my body, tilting me into position so it sinks lower and stops dribbling out.

By the time morning rolls around, I’m too exhausted to get up and help with breakfast. Instead, I sleep until noon and barely move when I do get up. We spend the afternoon on the deck talking about the future and how many babies we want until it’s time to get ready to go to my father’s house, and the butterflies in my belly nearly have me sick with worry as we arrive.