He enters me in one smooth thrust, and I cry out at the delicious burn of being stretched around him again. My body remembers him from last night, welcomes him back like he belongs there. Maybe he does.
"That's it," he praises as I adjust to his size. "Taking me so well, baby girl."
His hips start a punishing rhythm, each thrust pushing me higher up the shower wall. Water streams between our bodies, making everything slick and hot. I cling to his shoulders, nails digging into hard muscle.
"Gray," I moan as he hits something deep inside me that sends sparks through my veins.
"Say my name," he demands, one hand sliding between us to find my clit. "The one you called me last night when I was buried in this tight pussy."
I shake my head, embarrassment flooding me at the memory.
He slows his thrusts to an agonizing pace, barely moving inside me. "Say it."
"D-Daddy," I whisper, the word setting off fireworks in my lower belly.
"Again." He rewards me with a deep thrust that makes my vision blur.
"Daddy!" Louder this time, shameless.
He growls his approval, his pace turning frantic. "I'm gonna pump you full of my seed right here," he promises, his voice a dark rasp against my ear. "Fill this perfect pussy until you're dripping with me all day."
The filth of his words pushes me closer to the edge. I should be horrified. Instead, I'm desperate for it.
"Please," I beg, not even sure what I'm asking for anymore.
"Please what, baby girl?" His thumb circles my clit mercilessly. "Tell Daddy what you need."
"Please fill me up," I gasp, shocking myself with the words. "Make me yours."
That's all it takes. With a roar, he slams into me one final time, his release hot inside me. The feeling of being claimed so completely tips me over, and I follow him into blinding pleasure, my body milking every drop from him.
As we catch our breath, foreheads pressed together under the cooling spray, a terrifying thought crystallizes through the haze of pleasure: I might never want to leave this cabin. Or this man.
And that scares me more than any bounty hunter ever could.
four
. . .
Gray
My mind won't shutdown. Haven't slept more than an hour at a stretch since bringing Beck to the cabin last night. Not with her soft body curled against mine in my bed, her scent filling my lungs with every breath. I've spent the night alternating between watching her sleep and checking the security system I had installed when I first bought this place. Motion sensors in the trees. Cameras at strategic points. Some might call it paranoid. I call it necessary, especially now that I have something—someone—worth protecting. I've spent the morning on my encrypted laptop, pulling strings with old contacts, verifying what I already knew. The clerical error is real. Beck Maria Monroe is innocent. And it'll take at least another two weeks to clear her name through official channels.
Two weeks I can keep her here. Safe. Mine.
I watch her now through the window, sitting on the porch steps with a mug of coffee between her palms. She's wearing my flannel shirt over her now-clean dress from the diner. The shirt swallows her, the sleeves rolled up multiple times to free her delicate hands. Something primal surges in my chest at the sight of her in my clothes.
She tried to leave this morning. Stood at the open door, freedom just steps away. But she turned back. Came back to me. To safety. To what her body already knows it needs.
I should tell her everything. That I've already started the process to clear her name. That I know exactly who filed the original paperwork with the mistake. That I've been monitoring the other bounty hunters who took the job.
But if I tell her, she might leave once it's fixed.
And I can't let that happen.
I step outside, and she tenses before looking up. Her cheeks flush pink when our eyes meet.Good.She's remembering the shower. Remembering how she begged. How she called me Daddy.
"You've been cooped up," I say, moving to sit beside her on the steps. "Thought you might like to get out. See the mountains properly."
