Scamp turns her head to look at him, still teary, still needing to hold me. “Thank you, father.”
He nods. “You may not believe it, but I’m sorry for the way I’ve behaved towards you. None of what happened in your life was your fault. Your mother and I had our differences, and keeping you away from me became her way of lashing out. I, in turn, saw you as a screw I could turn to harm her. Somewhere along the way, you and Penelope got forgotten.” Drawing a deep breath, he opens the back door of the car and lifts Pip out of the seat, then sets her on the ground and lets her run to us. “I won’t stand in the way of your happiness, not any longer.”
Scamp nods, then presses her face to my chest as Pip pulls herself into the group hug. I watch her father climb into the car, then he starts up and squeals around us, speeding out of the parking lot.
And a few minutes later, I take my new family back to my hotel.
Chapter 13 – Scamp
I’m still trembling when we get back to Val’s suite of rooms at the RenCen hotel. The thought that I might have lost him won’t quite leave my mind, and I gripped his hand tight as he drove, wouldn’t leave his side when he stopped to pick up Chinese, could barely eat. Val made things as normal as possible, but how do you make these things normal?
“What happened in the casino?” I ask him when we’ve settled Pip into bed in her room, watching her until she fell asleep. “Is Camilo…?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t think so. He got shot but he was still alive when I left him. The FBI probably took him in, but he would have been given hospital treatment. I think he’ll be all right. Alive, anyway.”
I nod, silent, and take his hand between mine and pull it to my chest. I still can’t believe what’s happened. My father, being investigated by the FBI? I guess it was always a risk, but the thought that I could have been caught up in it all… And someone new in the city, who thinks they can take him on… Things are changing, and I always thought I’d welcome that when it came, but the only change I’m happy about is my new surroundings.
“Hold me,” I tell him, and without a word he wraps his arm around me and pulls me in close to snuggle against his warm, strong chest. Here, in his arms, I can almost pretend the rest of the world outside doesn’t exist.
Letting my hand wander, I reach inside his shirt and feel the thick hair on his rippling stomach. I love the way his body is covered in dark curls, so coarse against my own smooth skin. It calms me, centers me, lets me know that he’s a primal force, a warrior, standing between me and the dangers that might come our way.
My fingers trail lower, and I hear his breathing change as they draw close to the growing bulge in his pants.
“Are you sure?” he asks, and I nod.
“There’s no better time than right now. I want to feel alive.”
Gently, far more gently than anyone would believe of a man his size, he lifts me in his arms and cradles me like a child against his front, carrying me through to his bedroom. Our bedroom, I remind myself, because I don’t want to spend another night without him sleeping beside me.
He lowers me onto the bed and stands over me, his gaze lighting on every inch of my body. The shirt I pulled from his wardrobe and tied beneath my breasts, the yoga pants I hastily pulled on when I got the call from my father.
I let my legs fall apart, teasing him with the way the Lycra pulls across my already-dampening pussy. He knows I’m bare underneath. He was there when I dressed. Just a thin layer of fabric stopping me from being totally naked in front of him.
“See anything you like?”
He growls, massaging the front of his pants where the bulge is obvious behind his zipper. “I see everything I like. Everything I want.”
Keeping my eyes on his, I reach for the knot at the front of the shirt and untie it, then I unfasten the few buttons I had done up. When I let it fall free, I trail fingertips along the undersides of my breasts, then stretch my arms out wide.
“Touch your nipples,” he says, unfastening the button on his pants and pushing his hand inside. “Play with them for me.”
I do as he says, my hands going to them both, thumbs rasping over the hardened peaks. I mewl and bite into my bottom lip, my eyes drifting closed. All fear forgotten now as we play. “Your poor cock,” I pout. “I bet it could use some softness.” I let the words pull my mouth into a soft O, then slowly lick my lips. “I bet it could use a nice warm home. My mouth or my pussy. Or perhaps both?”