Your Girlfriend Calls Me Daddy

Chapter 162 - 163 | Aftershocks

I built a rhythm, slow and deep, pulling almost all the way out before sinking back in. Every thrust lifted her completely off the ground, her toes pointing uselessly toward the floor while she made these desperate little sounds into the table that drove me absolutely insane.

The drain widened with every stroke, cycling faster, pulling more of her Essentia through the connection until I could taste her thoughts. Her pleasure. Her shock at how good this felt. The way her brain kept short-circuiting every time I hit that spot inside her that made stars explode behind her eyes.

"Harder," she gasped.

"You sure?"

"Harder, Rome, please—"

I grabbed her hips with both hands and gave her what she asked for, driving in with enough force that the table scraped forward an inch across the floor. She screamed, the sound muffled by her arm pressed against her mouth.

"Fuck fuck fuck—"

"Still hate me?"

"Yes!" She pushed back to meet my thrusts, her whole body working against me in perfect counterpoint. "I hate you so much!"

"Liar."

"Shut up and—oh god—right there!"

I angled higher, hitting that spot that made her clench around me like a vice. Her legs kicked uselessly in the air and she sobbed into her arm, completely wrecked, all that perfect control dissolved into pure sensation.

The drain was pulling hard now, flooding me with her power. I could feel her getting close, the way her whole body went tense and her Essentia started cycling faster, brighter, sweeter. Like watching someone charge a weapon.

"Come for me," I said.

"Don’t tell me what to—"

I reached around and found her clit, rubbing circles while keeping the same brutal pace. She went rigid, silent for three seconds, and then fell apart completely.

Her orgasm hit like a freight train. Clenching. Pulsing. Soaking everything. Her Essentia exploded through the drain, vanilla and fire and everything she’d been hiding, and I barely managed three more thrusts before my own climax slammed into me like a physical blow.

I came hard, buried deep, feeling her still shaking through the aftershocks while I emptied everything I had into her.

When I could think again, she was draped over the table like a rag doll, breathing in shallow gasps.

"Holy shit," she whispered.

"Yeah."

"That was..."

"Good?"

"Shut up." She turned her head to glare at me over her shoulder, but there was no real heat in it. "Don’t be smug."

"Can’t help it."

"I still hate you."

"No you don’t."

She tried to push up but her arms gave out. I caught her waist before she slid off the table completely, still inside her, feeling her clench around me reflexively.

"Can’t move," she muttered.

"Not surprised."

"Fuck you."

"Just did."

She made a frustrated sound but I felt her smile against the table. "Insufferable."

I pulled out carefully and she whimpered at the loss, the sound so small and vulnerable that something twisted in my chest. I turned her over gently, lifting her to sit on the table edge. Her legs hung limp and her face was flushed, hair completely destroyed, lipstick smeared down to her chin.

She looked perfect. Wrecked and satisfied and more real than I’d ever seen her.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing."

"You’re staring."

"You’re worth staring at."

She covered her face with both hands. "Don’t say things like that."

"Why not?"

"Because it makes me..." She dropped her hands, grey eyes wide and honest. "It makes this complicated."

"It was already complicated."

"More complicated."

I stepped between her knees, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off her skin. "Good."

"How is that good?"

"Because you’re not running."

She went very still. The drain between us pulsed warm and constant, cycling our Essentia back and forth like breathing. Like we were sharing the same circulatory system.

"I should run," she said quietly.

"But you won’t."

"How do you know?"

I touched her cheek, thumb tracing the line of her cheekbone. "Because you finally got what you wanted."

"Which is?"

"Me. Paying attention."

Her throat worked, swallowing hard. "That’s not—"

"Five years, Noel. That’s how long you’ve been carrying this around." I traced her jawline, feeling her pulse jump under my fingers. "Some asshole kid at a corporate party called you Short Stack and didn’t look twice. And you built your whole academy career around making him look."

"That’s not why I—"

"Yeah it is." I leaned closer, close enough to see the flecks of darker grey in her eyes. "And now I’m looking. For real. All of you. Not the perfect strategic genius. Not the Stark heiress. You."

She blinked rapidly, and I realized there were tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. "You’re really good at this."

"At what?"

"Saying exactly what someone needs to hear."

"Is it working?"

"Yes." She kissed me, soft and slow, tasting like surrender and something sweeter underneath. "I hate that it’s working."

"No you don’t."

"Stop telling me what I feel."

"Stop lying about what you feel."

She pulled back, studying my face like she was trying to solve an equation that kept changing variables. "What are we doing?"

"Honestly?"

"Please."

"No idea." I kissed her forehead, breathing in the scent of her shampoo mixed with sweat and sex. "But I’m not done figuring it out."

"That’s not an answer."

"Best I’ve got."

She sighed, her breath warm against my neck. "This is going to be a disaster."

"Probably."

"Mera and Cheon know about this?"

"They will. I don’t keep secrets from them."

"And they’re just... okay with it?"

"They signed contracts. So did you."

"That was different. That was about keeping quiet, not about—" She gestured vaguely at our current state of undress. "This."

"This is the natural conclusion of that contract."

"How?"

"You wanted to know what I taste like. I showed you." I traced the line of her collarbone through her rumpled blouse. "You wanted to know if the connection was real. Now you know."

"It’s real," she said quietly.

"Yeah."

"And you’re still going to sleep with other people."

Not a question. She’d read the situation, calculated the variables, come to the logical conclusion.

"Yeah."

She closed her eyes. "I really should hate you."

"I know."

"But I don’t."

"I know that too."

She opened her eyes and they were wet, tears threatening to spill over. "What’s wrong with me?"

"Nothing." I kissed the corner of her mouth, tasting salt. "You’re perfect."

"Don’t."

"It’s true."

"I’m a mess."

"Welcome to the club."