RHETT
Sunlight filters through the cracks in the cabin shutters, painting stripes across the rumpled sheets where Emma's still curled up like a damn kitten, her dark hair fanned out on my pillow. She's breathing soft and even, lashes fanned against her cheeks, lips parted just enough to make my cock twitch at the memory of last night. Christ, I wrecked her good—took that sweet virgin pussy and made it mine in ways that should've been gentler. But she begged for it, didn't she? Clawed at me, called me Daddy, milked every drop out of me like she was starved.
I slide out of bed quiet as I can, pulling on my sweats. No shirt—too damn hot already, even with the morning chill seeping in. My back stings from her nails, a good kind of burn that has me grinning like a fool as I pad to the kitchen. I’ll make her food. Bacon sizzles in the cast-iron skillet, eggs frying alongside, bread toasting over the woodstove. Coffee brews strong and black, the way I like it. I plate it all up, figuring she'll wake to the smell.
Sure enough, she stirs. I hear the creak of the bed, then soft footsteps. She emerges from the bedroom wrapped in my flannel shirt—nothing else, the hem brushing her thighs, buttons half-done like she threw it on in a hurry. Her eyes are sleepy, cheeks flushed, and she's walking a little gingerly. Fuck, that hits me right in the gut.
"Mornin', little one," I rumble, setting the plates on the table.
She smiles shy, rubbing her eyes. "Morning, Rhett."
I pull out a chair for her, but as she sits, she winces—just a flicker, but I catch it. My chest tightens. Can't help myself; I drop to one knee in front of her, hands on her thighs, thumbs stroking the soft skin there.
"You sore, baby?" I ask, voice low and rough.
She bites her lip, nods a little. "Sort of. It's... not bad."
Guilt punches me hard. I should've been easier on her, held back more. "Fuck. I'm sorry, Emma. Got carried away last night."
She shakes her head, fingers threading through my beard. "I liked it."
Yeah, but that don't make it right. I scoop her up without another word—light as a feather in my arms—and carry her to the bathroom. The old clawfoot tub sits there, waiting. I set her down on the edge, gentle as I can, and crank the hot water on full blast. Steam rises quick, filling the small space with warmth. I toss in some salts from the shelf—eucalyptus, to ease the ache.
"Get in when it's ready," I tell her, but she's already unbuttoning the shirt, letting it slide off her shoulders. Jesus. Her body's a goddamn vision—small tits perked up in the cool air, nipples tight, faint bruises from my mouth blooming on her pale skin. And lower... fuck, the sight of her bare pussy, still a little swollen from me, has my cock hardening painfully.
She slips into the water with a sigh, sinking down until the suds lap at her chest. Her eyes close, head tipping back. I should leave—give her space—but instead, I grab a cloth and kneel beside the tub, dipping it in and running it over her shoulders, down her back. The water's hot, her skin slick and pinkening under my touch.
"You feelin' better?" I murmur, washing slow circles along her spine.
"Mmm. Yeah." She arches a bit, like a cat under my hand.
Control's slipping. My cock's rock-hard now, straining against the fabric of my sweats. I can't stop touching her—fingers tracing her neck, her arms. She glances over her shoulder, eyes dark with that same hunger from last night.
"Rhett..."
That's all it takes. I stand, shuck my sweats in one rough yank, and step into the tub behind her. Water sloshes over the edge as I settle in, pulling her back against my chest. My cock nestles against her ass, thick and insistent. She gasps, but doesn't pull away—leans into me instead.
"Thought you needed to relax," I growl in her ear, hands sliding around to cup her tits, thumbs flicking those hard little nipples.
"I do," she whispers, but her hips grind back against me.
Filthy words bubble up, and I can't hold 'em back. "You sure? 'Cause this greedy little cunt's already drippin' for Daddy's cock again, ain't it? Even after I fucked it raw last night."
She whimpers, nodding. "Yes..."
I reach down between her legs, fingers parting her slick folds. She's soaked—hotter than the bathwater. "Look at you. Sore and still beggin' for more. What a dirty girl."
She turns in my arms, water splashing, and straddles my lap. Her small hands brace on my shoulders, knees on either side of my hips. My cock stands straight up between us, the head breaching the surface, flushed and leaking. She looks down at it, then up at me, eyes wide but determined.
"Slow," I warn her, gripping her waist. "You set the pace, baby."
She nods, lifting up just enough to notch me at her entrance. Then she sinks down—inch by torturous inch—her tight heat swallowing me whole. We both groan. She's still so fucking snug, walls fluttering around me like she's fighting the stretch.
"That's it," I rasp, hands sliding to her ass, squeezing but not rushing. "Take Daddy's big cock nice and easy. Feel how you stretch for me? Like this pussy was made to be my perfect little sleeve."
She rocks slow, water rippling with each roll of her hips. Her tits bounce just above the surface, nipples grazing my chest hair. I lean in, suck one into my mouth—hard—teeth grazing until she cries out.
"Rhett—Daddy—feels so deep..."
