"You want that, don't you?" I continue, rubbing tight circles around her clit as I fuck her. "Want me to put a baby in you? Mark you from the inside so everyone knows you're taken?"
"Oh God," she moans, her head falling forward against the tree. "I shouldn't want it—I barely know you—but yes, yes, please?—"
Her confession sends fire through my veins. I increase my pace, pounding into her with abandon, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the quiet woods.
"Gonna come for me," I tell her, not a question. "Gonna come on Daddy's cock like a good little breeding vessel. Then I'm going to fill you up with my seed. Pump you so full it'll be dripping down your thighs all day, reminding you who you belong to."
Her orgasm hits suddenly, her body going rigid before convulsing around me, inner walls clamping down on my cock like a vise. She bites her lip to muffle her cries, but I'm not having it.
"Let me hear you," I demand, slapping her ass sharply. "Let anyone who's listening know who's making you feel this good."
She lets go then, a keening cry tearing from her throat as she comes apart around me. The sound, combined with the rippling of her pussy around my cock, pushes me over the edge. I slam into her one final time, burying myself to the hilt as my orgasm crashes through me.
"Fuck," I groan, emptying myself inside her in hot, heavy pulses. "Taking my cum so well. Such a perfect little girl."
For a long moment, we stay joined, both catching our breath. The forest is quiet around us except for the distant sound of the stream and the occasional bird call. Eventually, I pull out, watching with satisfaction as my cum immediately begins to leak from her well-used pussy.
I turn her gently, helping her fix her clothes, wiping her clean with my handkerchief. Her face is flushed, her lips swollen from biting them, her eyes dazed but satisfied. Thoroughly claimed.
"I meant what I said," I tell her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "No one touches what's mine. No one even looks if I can help it."
"Woodrow..." she starts, then stops, seeming unsure what to say.
"I'm going to eliminate the threat," I continue, cupping her face in my hands. "Permanently. Not just the goons who tried to grab you. The people who sent them. Everyone who might ever try to hurt you."
Something flickers in her eyes—fear, but not of me. "How?"
"You don't need to know the details. Just trust that I have the skills and the resources to make sure no one ever threatens you again."
She studies my face, seeing the cold truth there. I'm not making empty promises. I've killed before. I'll kill again without hesitation if it means keeping her safe.
"Will you..." She swallows hard. "Will you come back? After?"
The question surprises me. She's worried about me leaving, not about what I'm planning to do. My chest tightens with something unfamiliar. Something dangerously close to tenderness.
"Wild horses couldn't keep me away from you," I promise her, sealing it with a softer kiss. "
As we walk back to the cabin, my arm around her shoulders, her body tucked against my side, I'm already planning. I have contacts to call, favors to cash in. I'll find every last person connected to the threat against her and eliminate them, one by one.
And when it's done, when she's truly safe, nothing and no one will ever separate us again.
seven
. . .
Priscilla
I never thoughtI'd be the kind of woman who gets wet just hearing a man's voice. But that's exactly what happens as I stand frozen in the hallway, listening to Woodrow talk on the phone. His deep, rumbling tone carries through the cabin as he paces in his office, door slightly ajar. I know I shouldn't eavesdrop, but I can't help it. He's talking about me. About my father. About why those men came after me. And with each cold, brutal word he speaks, I feel a strange mixture of fear and something else—something like relief that this dangerous man is on my side.
"I don't give a fuck what Marshall told you," Woodrow growls into the phone. "You tell Donovan that if he touches one hair on her head, I will personally ensure he spends the last moments of his life regretting it."
I press my hand over my mouth, muffling my gasp. Donovan. The name means nothing to me, but the menace in Woodrow's voice sends shivers down my spine.
"Three hundred thousand?" Woodrow's laugh is without humor. "For what? Marshall's been bleeding him dry for years. No, this isn't about money anymore. This is about power.Control." A pause. "You know exactly what I'm capable of, Jensen. I left that life behind, but I'll step right back into it if that's what it takes to protect her."
My legs wobble beneath me. Three hundred thousand dollars? My father owes someone three hundred thousand dollars? The amount is staggering. Incomprehensible.
"I want a meeting. Just me and Donovan." Another pause. "I don't care if he's scared. He should be." Woodrow's voice drops even lower, deadly quiet. "Forty-eight hours. Then I start hunting."
