"Who am I?" His hips roll, teasing me with just the tip.
"Daddy," I whimper, beyond shame now. "Please, Daddy, I need your cock inside me."
With a satisfied growl, he pushes forward, filling me in one slow, deliberate thrust that has me crying out his name. He pauses when he's fully seated, our bodies perfectly joined.
"Such a good baby girl," he praises, brushing damp hair from my forehead. "Taking every inch. Daddy's gonna make you swell with our baby."
The dirty promise sends heat surging through me. It's just talk, fantasy—I'm on birth control, have been for years—but something primal responds to his breeding words, my inner walls clenching around him.
He begins to move, setting a rhythm that's neither gentle nor punishing—steady, deep thrusts that hit something perfect inside me with each stroke. His eyes never leave mine, holding me in place as surely as his body does.
"Look at you," he murmurs, one hand sliding beneath me to grip my ass, angling my hips to take him even deeper. "Made for this. Made for me. Made for taking Daddy's seed."
"Yes," I gasp, wrapping my legs around his waist, heels digging into the small of his back. "Made for you."
His pace increases slightly, his control evident even as pleasure builds between us. One hand moves between our bodies, thumb finding my clit with practiced ease.
"Going to fill you up," he promises, circling the sensitive bundle of nerves. "Pump you so full of my cum it’ll be dripping out of you for days. Is that what you want, honey?."
The combination of his words, his touch, and his cock stretching me so perfectly pushes me toward the edge. "Please," I beg, not even sure what I'm asking for anymore. "Please, Daddy."
"Come for me, baby girl," he commands, pressing harder on my clit. "Let me feel you. Let me feel this sweet pussy milk all the nasty cum from my cock."
My orgasm crashes over me like a tidal wave, my body arching beneath him as pleasure radiates from my core outward. I cry out his name—his real name, not his title—as wave after wave of ecstasy washes through me.
He follows shortly after, his rhythm faltering as he drives deep one final time, emptying himself inside me with a guttural groan. "Mine," he growls as his release pulses hot within me. "My sweet baby girl."
We stay joined as our breathing slows, his weight supported on his elbows to keep from crushing me. He presses tender kisses to my face—my forehead, my cheeks, the tip of my nose, finally my lips.
"I meant what I said," I whisper when he finally rolls to his side, drawing me against his chest. "I'm falling for you. Even though I shouldn't be."
His arms tighten around me. "Nothing about this is 'should' or 'shouldn't,' Beck. It just is."
The simplicity of his philosophy is strangely comforting. We just are. Whatever twisted, dangerous path brought us together doesn't matter. What matters is this moment—his heartbeatsteady under my ear, his seed warm inside me, his arms creating the first true sanctuary I've ever known.
"Stay with me," he murmurs into my hair, a rare vulnerability in his voice. "When this is all over. When the bounty's cleared. Stay."
It's the closest he's come to asking instead of demanding. Progress for both of us.
"I will," I promise, and I'm surprised to realize I mean it. Whatever this is—Stockholm Syndrome, trauma bonding, or something real and lasting—I'm not strong enough to walk away. Not anymore.
And maybe I don't want to be.
ten
. . .
Gray
The final piecefalls into place—a signed affidavit from the court clerk who made the original error. It's taken calling in every favor I'm owed, threatening a few people who deserved it, and paying off others who didn't. But it's done. The paperwork clearing Beck's name is processing through the system. Three days, maybe four, and the bounty will be officially rescinded. Three days until she's free. Three days until she could walk away from me if she wanted to. But she won't. Not after last night. Not after she whispered that she's falling for me, her body wrapped around mine, her walls squeezing every drop of seed from my cock. She's mine now. Not just because I decided it, but because she's choosing it too.
I close my laptop, rubbing my tired eyes. Been at this since dawn, making calls, sending emails, pulling strings. Worth it to see the haunted look finally leave Beck's eyes. Worth it to give her the choice to stay rather than the necessity.
She's in the kitchen, humming softly as she makes lunch. The sound filters through the cabin, domestic and perfect. I never thought I'd have this—someone waiting for me, making a homewith me. Never thought I deserved it after the things I've done. The blood on my hands.
But Beck sees past that. Sees something in me worth loving. It terrifies her—I saw it in her eyes last night when she confessed her feelings. It should terrify me too. Instead, it feels inevitable. Like everything since I first saw her photo has been leading to this moment.
I move to the kitchen doorway, watching her unobserved for a moment. She's wearing one of my flannels over leggings, her hair pulled into a messy bun that exposes the curve of her neck. There's a mark there—my mark, left by my teeth last night as I emptied myself inside her. My cock stirs at the memory.
