We sat in silence for a moment, the fire crackling the only sound. Outside, the sleet intensified, but inside, it was warm and our sanctuary.
“The kinks came later,” I said, a small smile tugging at my lips. “That Halloween party when you wore the mask as a joke.”
He shifted, and I glanced down, noticing his cock hardening beneath his slacks. “And you looked at me like you wanted to be chased,” he finished, voice roughening with the memory. “We realized pretty quickly that the danger and anonymity… the forbidden aspect fed something in both of us.”
“The masked stranger games,” I murmured. “Pretending we didn’t know each other. The risk of getting caught. You took what you wanted no matter what.”
“It’s like... reclaiming the wrongness,” he said thoughtfully. “Taking what society says we can’t have and making it ours, anyway. On our terms.” He dragged his palm over his raging hard-on, squeezing it and groaning.
I exhaled, feeling my arousal climbing. The mask-play, the public encounters, and the forceful claiming… they weren’t just about thrill. They were about owning our love in a world that would never understand it.
We turned the taboo into something beautiful between us.
“Do you ever regret it?” I asked what sometimes haunted my darker moments.
He turned me to face him fully, hands framing my face with infinite gentleness. “Not for a second. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Casey. Right or wrong, labels don’t matter. What we have is real.”
Tears pricked my eyes, but they were the good kind. I leaned in, pressing my forehead to his. “I love you. All of you. The man who raised me. The man who loves me now.”
“And I do love you,” he whispered back. “Always.”
We stayed like that until the fire burned low, wrapped in each other and the quiet certainty that, whatever the world might think, we’d found something rare and true.
Forbidden and taboo, yes. But ours.
EPILOGUE
TEN YEARS LATER
The cabin sat at the end of a dirt road that no map remembered anymore, tucked against the mountains where the pines grew so thick the stars had to fight to get through.
We built it ourselves, log by log, every nail hammered in between kisses and filthy promises. There’s no cell service, no neighbors for twenty miles, and the only law that mattered here was his.
My daddy’s.
Tonight, the moon hung full and low, silver pouring through the open bedroom windows like liquid mercury. I was on my knees in the middle of our king bed, wrists bound behind my back with ties that weren’t too tight but snug enough I couldn’t escape.
The skull mask sat on the nightstand now, matte black and scuffed, scarred from years of wear and play. It caught the moonlight, taunting me erotically.
Daddy circled me slowly, shirtless, sweatpants slung low enough to show the deep V that disappeared under the waistband. Ten years had only made him bigger, harder, and more harshly beautiful. There was silver at his temples, but when he looked at me, his eyes were the same whiskey fire that had melted me the first time he whispered “babygirl” against my throat.
I was thirty-five and fucking my father, dripping for him, in fact. My tits were bigger, heavier, my nipples hard and aching for his mouth.
“Look at you,” he murmured, voice rough and laced with primal, raw desire. “Ten years of breeding you and you still get wet the second I tie you up.”
Breeding was our kink. We’d never have biological children of our own for obvious reasons, but that didn’t mean we couldn’t get off playing our kinky little games.
I whimpered, thighs slick, pussy clenching on nothing. The plug he’d worked into my ass an hour ago shifted with every breath, jeweled base glinting between my cheeks even though I couldn’t see it. Daddy hadn’t let me come yet that night. He’d been edging me since dinner with his fingers, tongue, and toys until I was shaking and begging and leaking pussy juices down my inner thighs.
He stopped behind me, palms sliding over the curve of my ass, thumbs tracing the crack. He moved his hands lower, dipping between my legs and spreading my folds, inspecting how swollen and slick I was for him.
“Still the greediest little cunt I’ve ever had,” he said, almost tender but still laced with need so dark and feral I actually felt it. Two thick fingers pushed inside me without warning, and I cried out, back arching, breasts shaking, nipples growing tighter and harder. He groaned as if his pleasure hurt. Daddy pumped once, twice, and then curled his fingers hard against that spot inside of me that made me see stars.
“Please, Daddy?—”
“Please what, babygirl?”
“Please breed me again. Please fill me until I can’t take any more.”
