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Her lips part, her tongue peeking out.
I slowly feed her the bite, fighting a groan as it dribbles across her lips and down her chin. She laughs quietly, licking it up.
"Fuck," I growl, my cock throbbing beneath her round ass. "You picked ice cream as your treat on purpose just to torture me, didn't you, little girl?"
"Maybe." She peeks at me through slit lids, an impish smile dancing at her lips. "But it's so good, Daddy."
I chuckle, shaking my head. "You're lucky I can't fucking tell you no, Davina."
Her smile grows. It's a helluva lot better than the tears that fucker had swimming in her eyes today. I wanted to rip his throat out for that. No one talks to her the way he did today. He won't ever do it again, that's for damn sure.
I scoop up another bite, lifting it to her lips.
She wraps her tongue around the spoon, her eyes locked on mine as she pulls it into her mouth.
"Keep it up," I warn her. "I'll be eating the rest of your treat, and I'll be eating it off your gorgeous fucking body."
My compliment sends color blazing to life in her cheeks…which only makes my dick harder. How it's possible for someone to look like her and have no clue how beautiful she is, I don't know. But she's oblivious to it. It's not that she lacks confidence. She's comfortable in her own skin. She just has no concept of how radiant she is.
"Do you have siblings, baby girl?" I ask, curious about the parts of her life she doesn't talk about—the parts that shaped her into the shy, sweet, magnificent woman she is. I have a feeling the secrets written in those volumes are the key to understanding her and her needs.
"No," she whispers. "It was always just me growing up."
"Just you? No cousins or close friends?"
"Not really." She shrugs, leaning forward to accept another bite.
"Were you close with your parents?"
A shadow passes through her eyes—so fleeting I would have missed it if I weren't focused on her every moment of the day.
"They were close."
"Davina." I hook my finger under her chin, forcing her to turn to look at me. "Talk to me, baby girl. I want to learn about you. I can't do that if you won't let me in."
She hesitates for a long moment and then sighs. "My parents were important politicians. They liked the thought of having a kid more than they liked having an actual kid. I was too loud and messy and needy, I guess." She shrugs, avoiding my gaze. "I spent most of my time with my grandparents, but they were too old to take care of me. When my parents would come and get me, I tried to be good and to stay out of the way, but I always seemed to mess it up. They'd ship me back to my grandparents after a week or two."
"Jesus," I mutter, pissed on her behalf. Who the fuck treats a kid that way?
"They died in a plane crash when I was eleven. My grandfather died a year later. My grandma died when I was fifteen. It's just been me since then. Instead of foster care, I went to boarding school." She smiles sadly. "So I guess I don't really know what it's like to have a family. I never really had one. My grandparents did their best, but they didn't really want me, either."
"That's fucked up, baby girl."
"It's okay. It was a long time ago."
"No." I force her to meet my gaze, mine unyielding. "It's fucked up. You deserved better from the people who brought you into this world. I'm sorry you didn't get it."
"It could have been worse," she whispers. "They were never abusive. They just weren't very warm."
"It was bad enough, little one." I cup her face in my palm, stroking her cheek, awed that she has so much forgiveness and empathy for people who hurt her so deeply. She really is a gentle soul, far too fucking sweet for this world. The way she grew up didn't harden her heart or turn her bitter. She's still soft and gentle, still open and eager to love and be loved.
She's a fucking marvel.
Is it any wonder my heart is in her hands? She owns every inch of it. How could she not when she is who she is? She was made to be loved—to be spoiled and adored, and allowed to heal those innocent parts of herself that got shattered long before they were even allowed to flourish.
And I've never wanted anything more than I want to indulge her every whim and teach her that she has always, always been worthy exactly as she is.
If she's searching for where she belongs, she's found her home. It's right here with me.
