Deep Wood

A Mountain Daddy Romance

~
By Margot Scott

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 ©2020 Margot Scott
Edited by Kathleen Payne
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any
form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S.
copyright law. This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons,
living or dead, or places, events or locations is purely coincidental. All
characters are productions of the author’s imagination. This work is
intended for adults.

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 She’s mine to claim. Mine to protect. Mine to care for.

I swore I’d never go back to that mountain, not after my childhood

friend and I fell out years ago. So imagine my shock when I find out he’s
died and left me his old hunting cabin.

On the way there, I find myself staring down the barrel of a pistol
without a safety, in the form of smooth thighs, arresting green eyes, and
curves that could charm a sapling into a mighty oak.

But it turns out my old buddy’s gone and thrown me another curveball:
the nymph with the ass that won’t quit? That’s his eighteen-year-old little
girl. She’s running from something, but I’m not about to let anyone lay a
finger on this green-eyed angel.

I’ll put my life on the line to keep her safe, because that’s what good
Daddies do.

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 Author’s Note: Please be aware that this book contains suspense
elements and discussions of past physical abuse. However, don’t let that
heavy stuff fool you. This romance is fast and filthy, with no cheating or
cliffhangers, and features a guaranteed HEA!

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 Contents

Deep Wood
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Epilogue
About Margot Scott

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 Chapter One

Silas
What’s the most reckless thing you’ve done lately?
If you said, quit your job, traded your Lexus in for a Dodge Ram, and
drove halfway across the country jacked up on five-hour energy shots, then
congratu-fucking-lations, you’re as batshit crazy as I am.
I take the winding mountain road at seventy miles an hour, propelled
by the cocktail of caffeine and rocket fuel coursing through my veins. A
swig of bottled water does little to wash away the taste of oxidized fruit and
gas-station coffee, and even less to settle my sour stomach. More
aggravating than all that, however, is the numbness in my hands and feet
from forgetting to switch off the air conditioner at sundown.
Three twin sets of orbs slip out from between the trees. My foot finds
the brake. I barely slow down in time to hurtle past a doe and two fawns
making their way across the road.
“Fuck,” I mutter, my tired muscles stiff and twitching. I slap myself
twice. “Wake the fuck up.” After driving for twelve straight hours, it only
makes sense that I’d be due for a crash of epic proportions. I should’ve
planned this trip better. Hell, I should’ve planned at all. But it’s not like I
walked into work this morning with the intent of upending my whole life.
No. That moment came as soon as I got the fucking call.
I was seated at my desk, staring blankly at the numbers on my
computer screen, wondering how the hell I ended up with a desk job when
all I ever wanted was to work with my hands. The call came in on my cell
from a Tennessee area code. I almost let it go to voicemail, but something
inside me told me I should pick up.
The guy on the other end introduced himself as Jack Benson’s estate
lawyer. I hadn’t heard that name in over ten years. Jack and I had been best
buds growing up, two peas in a pod since we were old enough to tie reef
knots. Closer than friends, we were practically brothers. It’d been the same
for our dads, which was how we wound up spending six weeks a year at
Jack’s granddad’s hunting cabin outside of Gatlinburg, Tennessee.
As soon as Jack’s lawyer said the words, “Mr. Benson has passed
away,” it was like he’d hit pause on the world. My thoughts halted in their
tracks. I had to ask him to repeat himself, including his next line, “Mr.
Benson has bequeathed to you his grandfather’s hunting cabin.”
Jack never liked hunting, much to his dad’s dismay. He’d leave lettuce
out for the rabbits, peanuts for the squirrels, apples for the white-tailed deer.
Then he’d hide under the picnic table and watch them go to town.
Sometimes I’d sit with him, amused by my friend’s appreciation for delicate
things. My own appreciation was far more utilitarian: game was for
hunting, trees were for climbing, the clear, cold rivers for fishing and
cooling off on afternoons when your t-shirt fused to your back like a second
skin. We used to joke about bringing our own kids out there one day,
introducing them to the great outdoors.
It was Jack’s idea to keep the tradition alive after his dad passed on
shortly after Jack’s nineteenth birthday. But it wasn’t long until his grief
turned to anger, and with no one but me to keep him in line, Jack got in
with a bad crowd. He started dealing meth and coke. One night, while I was
working a late shift, he broke into my apartment and stole the Marlin 1895
hunting rifle my dad had given me as a graduation gift.
That was the nail in the coffin on twenty years of friendship.
It might seem counterintuitive that I’d upset my entire life to make the
trip my former friend’s mountain cabin. Maybe I was just tired of the
tedium. All I know is that I couldn’t think straight behind a desk. And the
only way to get my sanity back was to give it all up and get out in the open,
away from the noise and bureaucratic bullshit. I told my boss I was leaving
and then went straight to the dealership where I handed over the keys to my
Lexus, and drove off in a brand-new Dodge pick-up.
The truck’s headlights flash on a road sign announcing Bucky’s
General Store and Liquor Emporium—open 24/7—about a quarter mile
down the road. From memory, I know that means I only have about twelve
miles to go. I reach for my travel mug, figuring I only need one or two
glugs of stale coffee to get me through the last leg of the trip. I come up
empty.
 “Shit...” I toss the mug into the passenger’s side footwell and rub my
eyes. If I don’t get more caffeine in me soon, I’m gonna crash—big time.
I pull into the general store’s parking lot, grateful to discover they’ve
also installed a gas pump. I choose the pay-inside option, figuring I have to
go in for an energy shot anyway. A day-old sandwich might not be a bad
idea either. For all I know, Jack hasn’t been back to the cabin since the last
time we were there, eighteen years ago. Hell, the roof might’ve even caved
in.
A payphone stands like a relic outside the entrance, a reminder that
things move slower out here than they do everywhere else. Bells jingle as I
step inside the store.
The cashier, a stout woman with red hair, shoots me a frustrated glance
before returning her attention to the teenager in a gray hoodie and cutoff
shorts standing at the counter. “Honey, if you don’t have the cash, I’m
gonna have to ask you to put these things back.”
“No,” says the softest voice I’ve ever heard. “I have it. I’m just...not
sure where I put it.”
I grab a passable-looking Italian sub from the cooler and another pack
of five-hour energy shots—plus a bottle of Jack Daniels, because why the
hell not? —then get in line behind the girl at the register. Over her shoulder,
I can see she’s loaded up the counter with a small mountain of food and
camping essentials: matches, batteries, live bait, a loaf of bread, jars of
peanut butter and strawberry jam, plus fixings for s’mores.
S’mores had been Jack’s favorite summer dessert.
“I swear I have the money somewhere.” Her hood is up, so I can’t see
her face, but she sounds tired. If I had more fucks to give, I might be moved
to commiserate. As it stands, my top priority is getting back on the road.
The cashier sighs. “Sweetie, either pay for your things or please step
aside so I can help the next customer.”
“Look, I found some.” She lays a wrinkled bill on the counter. The
cashier takes the bill and smooths it out.
“This doesn’t even cover half of what you’ve got here.”
“There’s more in my wallet. I just have to find it.” She sets her
backpack on the floor. I squint against the fluorescent lights, growing less
easygoing by the second.
Dark-brown hair slips out from the girl’s hood as she kneels to search
her bag. I catch myself swaying as my energy levels plummet, and my
patience spreads itself dangerously thin. If the only thing standing between
me and a bed is one absentminded teenager with a sweet tooth, I’m willing
to throw some money at the problem to get it out of my way.
“I don’t have time for this.” I pull out my wallet, side-stepping the girl,
and smack two twenties onto the counter. “Ring her up.”
“I said I have it.” The girl looks up at me with wide, impossibly green
eyes, ringed with too much eyeliner. I stagger back a half-step and then
catch myself. She’s gorgeous, but it’s more than that. There’s something
familiar about her, though I can’t put my finger on exactly what it is. Her
tongue slips out to wet her bottom lip, a flash of pink on pink. Instantly, my
whole body comes alive, as much as it can, given my exhaustion.
Even my goddamn cock wakes up.
“Sir,” says the clerk, splintering my attention, “you’re offering to pay
for all of this?”
“This, too.” I set my own stuff on the counter.
The girl rises, her mouth bent into a frown, but she doesn’t argue as the
clerk rings me up and bags her stuff. I force myself to stop staring at her
lips. Somewhere inside me, I feel an instant connection to this girl. But
there’s no way in hell we’ve met before. I’d never forget a face like hers.
My temple throbs as the muscles in my legs start to twitch. It’s got to
be the twelve hours of driving, or the four hours of sleep. But part of me
wonders if it has something to do with this teenager. I’ve never wanted to
get both closer and further away from someone so badly.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she says.
“I know.” I pocket my change, and it takes everything I have to drag
my ass toward the exit, away from the very attractive—and very young—
roadside distraction.
I’m halfway out the door with my stuff when I hear the girl call out,
“Thank you!”
As much as I want to get one last look at her, I don’t let myself turn
around.

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 Chapter Two

Silas
Back in my truck, I crack open one of the five-hour energy shots and
take a swig. Closing my eyes, I let my head fall back against the headrest,
giving the rocket fuel a few seconds to kick in—and my body a chance to
calm the fuck down.
What the hell was that about? Sure, it’s been a quick minute since I’ve
been with a woman, but I can’t recall ever being drawn like that to
someone, and certainly not some random teenager I just met.
I practically jump out of my fucking skin at the rap-rap-rapping on the
driver’s side window.
“Jesus...” My pulse races at the sight of the girl from the store,
standing outside my truck, her face half-illuminated by the overhead light
pole. She smiles, and fuck if it doesn’t make my chest flutter, just a little.
Against my better judgment, I roll down the window. She immediately
rests her hand on the door.
“Hey, again.” She’s tied her sweatshirt around her waist, revealing
curves I hadn’t noticed in the store. There’s a two-inch slit down the front
of her white tank top. From my vantage point, I can clearly make out the
small points of her nipples pressed against the cotton.
No bra. None needed, though she’s hardly flat-chested.
A little more than a handful, I catch myself thinking. Knock that shit
right off.
I do not have time for this.
“You’re from Wisconsin,” she says. When I don’t respond, she adds, “I
saw your plates.”
“How perceptive.”
“That’s me, always one step ahead.” She hikes her backpack onto her
shoulder, but keeps her hand on the door.
 I force myself to appear calm and impenetrable. To ignore the part of
me that desperately wants to find out if her skin is as soft as it looks. What
the hell is she doing out here, by herself, at eleven o’clock at night? Is she
camping with friends, or did her piece-of-shit boyfriend send her out alone
to pick up supplies?
Jesus fucking Christ, do not borrow trouble. I don’t know a damn thing
about this girl. There are a hundred reasons why she could be out here
buying camping supplies. I don’t see any other cars in the lot, but there are
cabins and camp sites littered all over these hills. All I need to worry about
is getting back on the goddamn road.
Happy Camper here is just gonna have to find her own way home.
“As much as I’d like to sit here and make small talk, I need to get
going.”
“What a coincidence.” She rests her chin on the hand still planted on
my door. “That’s exactly what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“You don’t say.” I gesture for her to step away from the truck. She
doesn’t budge. I consider getting in her face for emphasis, but I’m not
convinced I’ll be able to pull away if I get too close. “Look, kid, my
hospitality only extends so far.”
“Are you heading east through Pittman?” she asks. I am, but that’s
beside the point. “I can pay you.”
“Haven’t we already established that you don’t have any money?”
She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a worn leather wallet. Not
the sort of thing you’d expect a teenager to store her cash in. She probably
stole it from her dad, or another unsuspecting mark with a soft spot for
jailbait.
She holds up the ten-dollar bill from before. “It’s yours if you give me
a ride.”
“Ten bucks to cart your ass around?” I knock my thumb back,
motioning for her to take a hike. “No, thanks. Try Uber.”
“I would, but my phone’s dead.” Her shoulders sag. “Please?”
“I said no. Now get off my truck.”
She sighs and pulls out another ten. Where the hell was that when she
was digging for change? “Twenty bucks for a half-hour ride. It’s all I’ve
got. I wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t absolutely necessary—”
“Don’t you get it? This isn’t about money. I’ve been driving for over
twelve hours. I’m dog-tired. I just want to get to where I’m going without
having to worry about some random kid pocketing my wallet while I’m
busy trying not to crash into a goddamn tree.”
“You think you’re tired?” She scoffs. “I was on a bus for five hours,
then I hitchhiked with a lady who did nothing but talk about original sin for
twenty miles. After that, I walked, and I have been walking for the past
three hours. My feet are ground-fucking-beef.”
Something in the way her brow crimps when she’s pissed hits me like
a tidal wave of déjà vu. Caught in her gaze, I feel like I’m drowning, and
for some reason, I can’t help picturing Jack. He always took injustice so
personally, especially when we were kids. He just couldn’t accept the fact
that sometimes, people are dicks.
“Sorry,” I tell the girl. “I can’t help you anymore.”
“Can’t or won’t?” She scowls. “You know what? That’s fine. You’re
obviously not the kind of guy I thought you were.”
She marches back to the store with her bag of groceries and takes a
seat on the steps of the small front porch. I start my truck, keeping the
window down to let in some fresh air. Already, I feel the effects of the
energy shot kicking in. The twitchy fingers. The racing thoughts.
Don’t look at her, I tell myself. There’s no fucking point. It’s time to
get back on the road.
But as I shift into reverse, my gaze snaps back to the girl on the steps,
sitting cross-legged with her shoes off. Even from a distance, it’s obvious
her feet are killing her as she rubs them.
I’m struck by the memory of a different girl, playing barefoot in the
grass. After my falling out with Jack, I moved out of Tennessee and got a
job with a real estate company. In Wisconsin, of all fucking places. I put on
a suit and traded my work boots for oxfords. My own dad hardly
recognized me when I came back for Christmas.
That was the last time we saw each other before a heart attack took
him out.
Jack had the nerve to show up at my dad’s funeral, with his wife and
kid in tow. He tried talking to me after the service, but I wasn’t interested in
making amends with guy who’d sold my dad’s last gift to me to buy coke. I
went outside to avoid making a scene, and that’s when I noticed Jack’s little
girl playing by herself on the lawn, not ten feet away from the road. She
must’ve been five or six, small for her age, with big feet and unruly hair the
color of almond skin. I watched as she peeled off her shoes and socks and
thought, someone should be looking after this girl. But she wasn’t my kid,
so she wasn’t my problem. And instead of going to sit with her in the grass,
I got in my Lexus and drove off.
Which is exactly what I need to be doing now.
Shaking off the memory, I put the truck in drive and peel out of the
parking lot.
My pulse gallops as I lean on the gas. Trees fly past in a blur. I crack
my neck and settle in for the last leg of the drive. A moment later, a thought
surfaces like words whispered in my ear. What if you hadn’t driven off?
What if I had sat down in the grass across from Jack’s little girl and
introduced myself? What if I’d helped her with her shoes, taken her hand,
walked her back inside, and listened to what her dad had to tell me? Maybe
we could’ve patched things up.
Or, maybe I could’ve been there for him when he needed me.
When I asked Jack Benson’s lawyer how my old friend had died, the
lawyer said he’d been killed in a bank holdup. Apparently, the killer was
still at large, as were his accomplices.
There’s no guarantee that things would’ve gone down differently had I
been there. Maybe we’d both be dead right now. But growing up, nobody
ever tried to fuck with Jack, because they knew if they did, they’d have to
fuck with me. It wasn’t just that I was taller and stronger. I’d come from a
rougher part of town, where I’d learned early on how to throw a punch, and
more importantly, how to take one.
Jack, ever the conscientious objector, had no talent for, or interest in,
learning to fight. The day a robin broke its neck crashing into the cabin’s
screen door, it was Jack who’d insisted we give it a proper burial. When my
dad first introduced us to catch-and-release fishing, Jack took one look at
the blood on the fish’s mouth and refused to touch the rod.
It’s amazing the two of us got along, considering what opposites we
were. But somehow it all worked out. Where I was stubborn, Jack was
forgiving. If I was the muscle, Jack was the heart.
A figure darts across the road—a dark-haired boy in board shorts, thin
as a beanpole, and pale as snow.
Jack...
I slam on the brakes.
The seatbelt cuts into my chest as I lurch, swerving in time to miss the
sign for farm-fresh summer squash, but not soon enough to avoid spiraling
partway into the bar ditch on the side of the road.
“What the fuck,” I mutter, my heartbeat galloping like a prize-winning
Clydesdale. My truck’s dash lights up, dinging a with all kinds of
notifications informing me that some crazy shit has gone down.
Yeah, no fucking kidding.
I switch off the engine, unhook my seatbelt and climb out of the truck.
The Tennessee heat wraps around me like a damp beach towel as I
survey the road. I squint into the trees, lit up by my headlights, searching
for the kid who almost got me killed.
“Hey,” I call out. “That stunt you pulled was really fucking stupid. You
could’ve killed us both.”
I get no answer.
Sweat drips down my back as I scrub my eyes, replaying the image of
the boy sprinting across the road. Obviously, it wasn’t Jack. But for some
reason, my mind keeps inserting him into the memory. It’s got to be the
cocktail of guilt and rocket fuel making me see and hear things that aren’t
there. Not to mention the very real memories of all the summers Jack and I
spent out here as a kid.
And who could forget the green-eyed girl from the store, with the
uncanny knack for dredging up things I don’t want to remember?
I head back toward my truck, now pointing in the direction I just came
from, and climb inside. As I restart the engine, I hear another soft voice at
my ear.
Would Jack have driven away?
I know the answer before the question even registers.
If Jack had been in my place tonight, he wouldn’t have looked at the
girl beneath the “$1.99 Hot Dogs All Day Long” sign and seen her as a
burden. He’d have seen her as an innocent creature in need of help.
I growl, smacking the steering wheel with both hands in surrender.
“She’d better be fucking worth it, buddy.”
I peel out of the ditch—grateful for four-wheel drive—and reach the
store in under a minute. The girl jumps to her feet as I pull up to the steps,
her stance defensive.
“Get in,” I tell her.
She eyes me warily. “Why?”
“Because it’s dark out.” I reach across the passenger’s seat and open
the door for her. “Come on. I haven’t got all night.”
 She slips her shoes on and grabs her backpack, leaving her socks
behind. I force myself to stare straight ahead as she settles in beside me.
“Thanks for coming back,” she says.
“I didn’t do it for you.” I pull onto the road and drive off into the night,
praying I don’t eventually come to regret this.

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 Chapter Three

Norah
As soon as I slip inside the truck, I start to work my magic.
Setting my backpack on the floor at my feet, I let my knees splay to
either side. I’ve rolled my shorts up so that they’re practically kissing my
thigh crease. The man stares straight ahead, like he's intentionally trying not
to look at me. That's going to be a problem if I hope to get what I'm after.
"If you didn't do it for me,” I ask, “then who'd you do it for?"
"An old friend.” He turns the fan system up, though the windows are
already open. His gaze flickers to my inner thigh.
Now we're in business.
I unzip my backpack and pull out a package of beef jerky. He shakes
his head when I offer him a piece. It was nice of him to pay for my
groceries. So nice, that I couldn’t pass up the chance to expedite my
journey. I wasn’t lying when I told him my feet felt like ground beef, or
when I said he didn’t have to pay for my groceries. I’d already slipped a
bunch of food and supplies into my backpack in the minutes before he got
there. The pile on the counter was just a decoy to frustrate the clerk so she’d
be glad to get rid of me.
For the record, I don’t like stealing. But sometimes you have to do
what’s necessary to survive. I just happen to be really good at it. For that, I
can thank my ex-boyfriend, Brody.
The nice man’s truck smells like stale coffee and new leather, and the
lack of dust and stains makes me think it might be new. That, or he’s one of
those anal types who likes to keep their cars spotless. But judging by his
messy hair and five o’clock shadow, I don’t think that’s the case.
When I first saw him, my heart literally stopped. Tall as a mountain,
legs like two towering pines, messy blond hair, and a chiseled jaw, he
looked like no one I’d ever seen in real life. Dressed in khakis and a pale,
blue button-down, he could’ve been any corporate stooge, but something
about the no-bullshit look in his eye gave me pause. This is a guy who isn’t
afraid of getting his hands dirty, I thought. I bet his bosses don’t even
realize they’ve let a lumberjack into the boardroom.
From the moment his storm-cloud eyes locked on mine, I was his
willing hostage. It was almost as though his gaze held the power to reach
inside me and gather my sins like a deck of playing cards, laying them out
one by one—here’s the time you took fifty bucks from your mom’s purse,
and the time your boyfriend talked you into smuggling drugs across the
state border. And who can forget the day your boyfriend conned you into
staging a robbery at the bank you worked for?
The same day he shot your father...
I had just graduated from high school a few weeks before it happened.
Unemployed and still living at my parents’ house, my mom and I fought
constantly about everything, from me coming home late to the pills she’d
found in my purse—Brody’s drugs, but I didn’t tell her that; my parents
already hated him enough. My dad stuck up for me. He believed I could
change because he'd changed, supposedly. But I was tired of being treated
like a problem child.
I wanted to move out and get a place with Brody, who was living with
his cousin in a one-bedroom apartment. I got a job as a bank teller at a
branch near my house and started saving. The money I was making was
barely enough to cover a third of what landlords in our area were asking for.
Then Brody got the idea that we should just rob the bank, since I knew
where all the cameras were, and how long it would take for the cops to
reach us.
I didn’t want to do it, and I told him so.
Brody said we’d be stupid not to take advantage of a golden
opportunity. Once we had the money, we could move anywhere, he’d said.
Anyway, he reminded me, it wasn’t my decision. I was his girl. I belonged
to him, which meant I had to do whatever he said. That’s how it was with
us. He tried to get me to call him Daddy a few times, but the word never
tasted right. Not for Brody. Considering what happened next, I’m grateful
the title never stuck.
The morning of the robbery, my hands shook so bad, I spilled a quart
of milk all over the kitchen counter. My dad made a dumb joke about
butterfingers, and I laughed. He even helped me clean up the mess.
 I was sure everyone at work could tell I was waiting for something to
happen. When Brody and his sleazy friends stepped through the door
wearing ski masks, I thought I was going to vomit. They pulled out their
guns. Brody ordered me out from behind the counter, and held a gun to my
temple, just like we’d rehearsed. He told my co-workers to empty all the
registers, while two of his friends ran to my manager’s office to make him
open the safe.
My heart leapt into my throat. Everything was going according to plan,
and for a second, I thought we might actually walk away from this without
anyone getting hurt. Then my dad stepped through the door, and our eyes
locked.
He saw the gun pressed to my temple, and charged.
Brody must’ve recognized him, but that didn’t stop him from pulling
the trigger. The blast was deafening. I watched my father crumple to the
ground. Time slowed to a crawl. I didn’t notice the purple lunch tote in his
hand until after he’d fallen. I must’ve forgotten it at home, and being the
helpful man that he was, he’d stopped in to bring it to me on his way to the
office.
As the ringing in my ears subsided, all I could hear were the screams
—my own, and others’.
Then came the sirens.
“We’ve gotta go,” Brody shouted, pitching me to the ground. He and
his friends made a break for the exit. By the time the police reached the
bank, Brody and his team were long gone.
The paramedics rushed my dad to the hospital, but he was already dead
on arrival. My mom and I held each other in the waiting room. The next
day, the police questioned me for three hours, but Brody had trained me
well. In the end, they simply apologized for my loss, and vowed to do
whatever it took to catch the guys responsible.
I’m the one responsible, I wanted to shout. Brody may have pulled the
trigger, but my father was dead because of me.
I pinch my eyes shut at the wave of remorse that rises into my throat.
Now’s not the time for waterworks, I tell myself. I have to get what I need
from this man and then get out of his truck before he realizes what I’ve
stolen from him. I have some food, but I need a plan, and a plan is going to
require more money.
 “Do you live around here?” I ask, then cringe at how cliché the
question sounds.
A few seconds tick by before the man responds. “I have a hunting
cabin.”
“Cool. So do I.” Technically, it was my dad’s cabin, passed down to
him by his father. And if you want to get really technical, he didn’t exactly
to leave it to me.
According to my dad’s lawyer, the cabin where I spent every summer
since I was born now belongs to some guy named Silas Walker. I’ve never
met this man, never even heard his name. I can only assume my dad knew
him before I was born and just never got around to correcting his will.
Right now, I couldn’t care less about Silas Walker, or whoever’s name
is on the cabin’s paperwork. My dad’s old mountain cabin is the only place
I feel safe.
After the robbery, I made yet another mistake in a series of huge
mistakes. I broke up with Brody over text. When he showed up at my house
to “talk some sense into me,” I said I’d turn him in if he didn’t leave me
alone. Now he thinks I’m a threat, and in his words, the only thing to do
with a threat is eliminate it.
A chill skitters down my spine. I gaze out the passenger-side window
at the dark forest rushing by. Thankfully, Brody doesn’t know about the
cabin. The only people who do are me, my mom, and some guy I’ve never
heard of.
“My dad used to bring me out here when I was little,” I say, breaking
up the silence. I study the man in my peripheral vision. He said he'd been
driving for twelve hours straight. That's the whole damn day. He looks tired
—but hopefully not too tired to get it up for me. “I really appreciate you
giving me a ride.”
“Don’t mention it.” He taps the steering wheel restlessly. I wonder
how many of those energy shots he’s had to drink. Shifting in my seat, I
scoot a little closer to the center console.
“You’re sure you won’t take the money?”
“I’m sure.”
I turn the fan system down a notch, the gesture catching his gaze like
wool on a cat’s claws. “Well, if you don’t want my money, then what do
you want?”
“Nothing,” he says. “I don’t want anything from you.”
 “Are you sure?” I take a chance and rest my hand on his thigh, inches
from the bulge in his jeans that I swear has doubled in size since I first
climbed into his truck. I’ve never done anything like this before—I mean,
I’ve given my boyfriend head, but he’s the only one. Offering to blow a guy
I’ve only just met might be the most reckless thing I’ve ever done.
His hand tightens around the steering wheel. He’s probably thinking it
over, imagining what it would feel like to have my mouth around his cock.
“You don’t have to do that,” he says.
For a second, I wonder if I’ve misjudged the situation, but the bulge in
his pants seems pretty straightforward. I’ll admit, the fact that he isn’t dying
to get into my pants does make me feel a little safer. If he was too eager, I’d
be worried about his intentions.
“I know I don’t, but I want to.” I take a deep breath to quiet my nerves
and then slide my hand onto his bulge. Air hisses through his teeth. “I’ve
been told I’m good at it.”
“Just because you’re good at something, doesn’t mean you have to do
it.”
“Don’t most people like doing what they’re good at?” I massage him
through his jeans. “I want to help take the edge off."
"You're gonna take us off the damn road if you don't move your hand."
"So pull over."
The man looks at me with an intensity in his gaze that I’m not ready
for. I yelp as he makes a quick turn onto an unmarked dirt road. My pulse
picks up speed along with the truck. I'd hoped he'd just pull over on the
main road, but instead we seem to be heading deeper into the trees.
When we finally come to a stop, I notice my hands have migrated back
to my own lap. The man shifts into park, then sits back to look at me.
"All right, little girl. You want my cock so badly, it's yours."

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Four

Norah
His hand is warm and a little rough as he grasps my wrist and lays my
palm on his thigh. I sit there, frozen in a stranger’s truck, unable to make
my limbs do what I need them to.
“Go on,” he says.
I swallow to loosen the tightness in my throat. I asked for this, I know,
and I thought I could do it when push came to shove. But now that he’s
given in, it’s like I’ve forgotten why I thought this was a good idea. He’s the
hottest man I’ve ever met, though admittedly a lot older than what I’m used
to. I’m attracted to him. So why is this so difficult?
"You look scared," he says.
I scowl. "I'm not."
Even to my own ears, I don’t sound convinced.
"You should be,” he says. “What the fuck are you thinking? Grabbing
a stranger’s dick like you know what to do with it."
"I know what to do with it."
"Do you know how to get out of a choke hold? How to stop a guy from
choking you with his cock?"
"I know how to punch a guy in the balls, yes"
"That's a good way to piss him off. And a pissed off sociopath can
quickly become more trouble than you bargained for. You don't exactly look
like you could take a punch."
"You don't know what I can take." What I've already taken...
Cold sweat drips down my back. Maybe my intuition was wrong.
What if this guy is dangerous?
He opens his mouth to say something, then closes it. He sighs, his
expression softening. "You shouldn't be offering blow jobs to strangers in
the first place. It's dangerous. I'm old enough to be your dad."
 "Maybe I like that." I’ve only had one boyfriend, and if he’s any
indication, I guess my usual type is tall, dark-haired and lanky. He’s a few
years older than me, at twenty-five—okay, maybe more than a few—but my
point is, even though this guy is way older than Brody and built like a
lumberjack, I don’t completely hate the idea of sucking his cock. Just...you
know...not right now.
"How old are you?” he asks.
I stiffen. “Twenty-one.”
He straight-up laughs in my face.
“Sure, sweetheart. If you’re twenty-one, I’m sixty-five.” In the glow
from the dashboard, he doesn’t look a day over forty. He pinches the spot
between his eyes. “Look, I really just wanted to give you a ride. Your
companionable silence from here on out will be thanks enough. All right?”
I lift my backpack onto my lap and fold my arms around it. “Fine.”
He shifts into drive. "Now put your goddamn seatbelt on. And keep
your hands where I can see 'em."
He turns the truck around, taking us back toward the main road. I lean
my head against the window, surprised to feel at once frustrated
and...relieved. I don’t know where I’m going to find money now, but I can
at least settle in for the rest of the ride and not have to worry about my
safety.
We drive the darkened roads in silence. For the first time in weeks, I
feel my body start to relax. At one point, I think I hear my dad whistling,
then realize I must’ve drifted off. Not the smartest idea, falling asleep in a
stranger’s car. But something about this man makes me want to let my
guard down.
Eventually, we come to the intersection I’ve been waiting for. I sit up
straighter in my seat.
"Turn left up ahead," I tell him. He makes the turn. I direct him to a
dirt road about a mile and a half from the cabin. My body might trust him
not to do anything nefarious on the road, but that doesn’t mean I want him
knowing where I lay my head. "You can pull over here.”
"Pull over where?" he asks.
"Anywhere along this road.”
He slows the truck to a crawl but doesn’t stop.
"It's pitch black out,” he says.
 "I have a flashlight." I unbuckle my seatbelt and unzip my bag, waiting
for him to park.
“Where’s your cabin?”
My muscles tense. “It’s around.”
"I don’t like the idea of dropping you off in the woods in the middle of
the night."
"I'll be fine, seriously."
He shakes his head. “Just tell me where your cabin is, and I’ll take you
there.”
My heart starts to pound. “Stop the car, please.”
“Not gonna happen.” He picks up speed, taking a turn I didn’t tell him
to take. "My cabin isn't far from here. You can spend the night and head out
in the morning, or charge your phone and call an Uber to take you the rest
of the way."
I hug my backpack tightly, not sure if he’s just being a good Samaritan
or if he’s actually trying to kidnap me. "Please just let me out. I can walk.
Really."
He doesn’t respond.
"Where are you taking me?”
“I told you, to my cabin.”
I reach for the door handle.
"You’ll break your fucking neck if you do that,” he says, and he’s
right. We’re going too fast for me to jump without at least spraining
something.
I close my eyes and try to calm my heartbeat. This is it. He's going to
trap me in his murder basement and flay me alive. A tiny voice inside me
whispers, maybe you deserve it.
After everything I’ve allowed to happen?
Yeah. Maybe I do deserve what’s coming.
Finally, the truck slows. I stare out the windshield, having lost my
sense of direction in the midst of my panic. The headlights flash across a
garage door with a dent that looks oddly familiar, followed by an even more
familiar-looking porch.
I sit stock still as the man cuts the engine and climbs out of the truck.
This stranger has brought me to my dad's hunting cabin.
Only, it’s not my dad’s cabin anymore.
 He opens the passenger-side door. “You getting out, or would you
rather sleep in here?”
I slowly turn to face him. “Silas Walker?”
His expression turns cautious. “How the hell do you know my name?”
“I’m Norah Benson. Jack Benson was my father.”

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Five

Silas
Thank God some other asshole didn’t get to her first. That’s my first
thought; my second is a lot less charitable. My dead childhood pal’s
daughter just tried to suck my cock.
I knew I wasn’t going to let her put her mouth on anything, long before
I pulled into the woods. But I wanted to call her bluff. Maybe scare her a
little, so she’d think twice about trying something that stupid again.
Some guys can only think with their dicks. Fortunately for this girl,
Norah, I’m not one of them. My relationships over the years have been
mostly casual, but I’ve never cheated. Getting a boner from looking at a
pretty girl is a natural reaction, but that’s all it is—a reaction. Putting the
burden on her to finish what she started is like waking up with morning
wood and expecting the dawn to fuck you.
Granted, she had been trying to get me excited, and I’d be lying
through my teeth if I said her efforts hadn’t worked. Her small hand rubbing
all over my cock had my balls aching something fierce. But a teenager
wouldn’t run around offering blow jobs for rides if she had any other
options. Call me old-fashioned, but I’m not the kind of guy to take
advantage of that level of desperation—no matter how soft her mouth
looks.
And here I thought my biggest challenge after all these years would be
finding the damn place.
The front door is locked when I try to open it, then I remember the
lawyer saying something about mailing me the key by the end of the week.
Thankfully, Jack kept the spare where his dad always hid it, hanging on a
screw hook between two porch railings. I’m acutely aware of Norah’s
presence behind me as I unlock the door and step inside the pitch-black
cabin.
 I reach into my pocket for my phone to use as a flashlight, just as
Norah slips past me into the darkness.
“Wait,” I tell her, “I’ve got a light—”
There’s a click followed by a warm glow from a tabletop lamp. The
last time I was here, the place didn’t even have electricity. I take in the
unfamiliar furnishings, the leather couch and stone fireplace, the oak dining
table and stainless-steel appliances in the kitchen alcove.
Well, I’ll be damned. Jack’s obviously made some improvements over
the years.
Norah lays her backpack onto the dining table and unloads her
groceries, making herself at home. That’s because she is home, I remind
myself. This place might be in my name, but I’m willing to bet she’s been
coming here all her life. I move into the living area, taking my time to study
all the new furniture a bit more closely. Some of it looks handmade, like the
coffee table with little fawns and fox pups carved into the legs.
Pulling the curtain back to reveal a sliding-glass, door, I flip the nearby
light switch and peer out at the back porch. There’s a semicircle of chairs
surrounding a metal fire pit, and a covered hot tub wedged into the corner. I
don’t know what I expected to find once I got here, but it sure as hell wasn’t
this.
“Jesus,” I say to myself. “When the hell did Jack do all this?”
“It wasn’t always this nice,” Norah says. My muscles go taut. I’m not
expecting her to be standing right behind me. “He worked on it little by
little, over the years.” Turning to face her, I’m once again struck by how
beautiful she is. Full cheeks and green eyes, a heart-shaped face. My gaze
centers on her mouth a second too long. My cock aches.
“Look,” I say, putting some distance between us, “I’m sorry about
what happened on the way up here. I was a dick. Let’s just try to forget
about it, okay?”
“Sure, okay.” She folds her arms in front of her, creating a shelf for
those tits I have no business looking at now that I know who she is. I move
around the cabin opening windows to let in fresh air. The downstairs
bedroom is exactly where I remember it, across from the only bathroom.
“Does the loft still have beds?” I ask Norah without looking at her.
“A futon,” she says. “It’s actually pretty comfy.”
“Good. I’ll take the loft. You can sleep in here.”
 "Wow, gee, thanks so much for letting me sleep in my parents’ old
bed.” Her gaze hardens. “Can I ask you something?” She doesn’t wait for
my go-ahead. “My dad’s been bringing me to this cabin every summer since
I was born. Why did he leave it to you?”
“I honestly have no fucking idea.” While I can remember a time when
this place felt like a second home, it doesn’t feel like mine anymore. I
should give it back to her family, transfer it to Jack’s widow for a dollar she
never has to pay and be done with it.
“Did you know my dad?” Norah asks. “Are you like, long-lost brothers
or something?”
“We were friends,” I say, and thank god for that, considering what she
tried to do to me in the truck, and the way I scared her.
She seems to consider this, her stare wandering over my face. “My dad
said he and his best friend used to come here all the time when they were
kids. But if you were such good friends, then why haven’t I met you
before?”
“People grow up and apart.” I debate whether or not I should go into
detail. Figures Jack would choose to leave the less-flattering facts about his
youth out of the narrative. But ultimately, I decide against enlightening her
about her dad’s seedy past. The man died two weeks ago. This cabin is
probably the place she feels closest to him now that he’s gone.
From the anger in her eyes, it’s obvious Norah hasn’t begun to process
the loss. But that doesn’t change the fact that this is now my cabin. She can
spend the night, but she can’t stay here. It wouldn’t be right.
“Tomorrow, you can call your mom to come and get you. Or see if you
can find an Uber. I’ll drive you into town if they won’t pick you up here.”
Her brow knits. “You’re kicking me out of my own house?”
I brace myself for another battle. “I know this place feels like your
home, but right now, it isn’t. You seem like a nice person, but you and I
barely know each other.”
She closes the distance between us, laying both hands on my chest.
“So, let’s get to know each other.”
I know fear when I see it. She’s trying to hide it behind forced desire,
but it’s plain as day on her face. This isn’t about attraction. She’s running
from something.
“Not interested.” I remove her hands. “Like I said, I’ve had a long day,
so unless you want to tell me what’s really going on, come tomorrow,
you’re going to have to find somewhere else to camp.”
“Nothing’s going on.” She backs away, holding her own hands. “I just
miss my dad.”
“If you can miss him here, you can miss him at home.” I sigh,
struggling to keep my cool. My patience for liars is thin on a good day, and
today’s been just about the worst. “It’s obvious you’re running from
something, Norah. Now you can either tell me what it is, or plan to get the
hell out of my cabin."
"It's not your cabin."
"According to your dad's will, it is.” I don’t realize I’ve walked her
back against a wall until I’m close enough to press my hand to the wood.
“You don’t owe me all your secrets, sweetheart, but you can’t expect me to
let you stay if you don’t tell me what kind of trouble you’re in.”
I can see her thoughts churning behind her eyes. She’s cooking up
something, and I’m willing to bet it’s not a pot of truth. I cup her chin,
forcing her to meet my gaze.
"Whatever you do, little girl, do not lie to me. Or I'll toss you out on
your ass tonight.”
She glowers at me for a long, hard moment, until finally, her
composure breaks. I feel her jaw slacken against my palm. "My ex-
boyfriend is looking for me."
My whole body goes taut. “Bad break up?”
She almost chuckles, then nods.
I should’ve guessed it. Why else would she be so damn determined to
stay off the grid? I let go of her chin and give her space, knowing the awful
answer before I’ve even asked the question.
"He hurt you?"
She closes her eyes, takes a breath. “The word hurt doesn’t begin to
describe what that asshole did to me.”
The next time she looks at me, I don’t just see the ballsy teenager with
the green eyes. I see the little girl she once was, black dress and bare feet on
the grass. I’ve never wanted to protect another person so fiercely. I’ve also
never wanted to kill someone so intensely. But I swear, I could beat her ex-
boyfriend to death.
It makes no goddamn sense. I know nothing about this girl. But
sending her off to fend for herself is no longer an option.
“You can stay here until I leave,” I tell her.
 “When will that be?”
“I’m not sure.” I can almost feel the tension creeping back into her
limbs. “Not for a few days, at least.”
That seems to calm her well enough. She shoulders her backpack and
heads for the bedroom, stopping halfway there to say, “Thank you, Silas.”
Hearing my name on her tongue does strange things to my stomach—
and other body parts. “Don’t mention it.”
She closes the bedroom door, and I take the stairs up to the loft. There,
I find a tall dresser and a plush reading chair, plus the futon she promised. I
pull the futon out into a bed and then find a spare set of sheets in the
dresser, alongside some men’s jeans and T-shirts that I can only assume
were Jack’s. No towels, though. And after driving all day, what I could use
more than anything is a long, hot shower.
I check for towels in ten different places and come up empty. Finally, I
have no other option but to ask Norah where they are.
I knock softly on the closed bedroom door. “Hey. Where’d you guys
keep the towels?”
Muffled footsteps approach before the door swings open. She’s still
got her tank top on, but no shorts. Just plain black panties. If I wasn’t
holding on to the door frame, I’d be on my knees, my mouth watering for a
taste of something juicy.
“They’re above the washer,” she says, drawing my attention back to
her face. I didn’t even know this place had a washing machine. She seems
to sense my confusion. “I’ll show you.”
I follow her to the kitchen, trying and failing not to watch her ass sway
from side to side as she walks. Every inch of this girl’s body is forbidden
fruit, begging me to take a bite. She opens a pocket door to reveal a
washing machine, and on the shelf above it, stacks of colorful towels.
“Thanks,” I mumble. She smiles.
I grab a towel and shut myself in the bathroom before the bulge in my
khakis can make things even more awkward. Goddamn, what is this girl
doing to me? I’ve never had such an intense and immediate reaction to a
woman before. And now she’s going to be staying here. What the hell have
I gotten myself into?
I strip down and step into the shower. Thankfully there’s already soap
and shampoo in a plastic caddy. In my race to get here, I didn’t think to
bring much of anything—including clothes. Hopefully something of Jack’s
will fit me. As I’m soaping up my body, my thoughts float back to the drive
up here. To Norah’s thin tank top, her creamy thighs.
And, oh yeah, her hand on my dick.
My cock is hard, and has been since the moment I first saw her. But
it’s the pressure in my balls that needs relieving. I wrap my fist around my
shaft and stroke. I think about porn. I think about blonde chicks with fake
tits and leather cuffs around their wrists.
I think about anything other than the girl asleep in the next room.
But after a while, the usual bondage fantasy just doesn’t cut it. My
cock knows what it wants. It wants Norah Benson on her knees. Her soft,
pouty lips wrapped around the head, her pink tongue stroking the underside.
It wants her hands gripping my shaft, her big, green eyes gazing up at me,
questioning. Is this right? Am I doing it right, Daddy?
Fuck, yes, baby girl. You’re doing it just the way I like...
I bite back a moan as my cock throbs in my fist, shooting cum all over
the shower tiles.
One by one, my muscle groups start to relax, as the reality of what I’ve
done starts to sink in.
I am in deep fucking trouble.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Six

Norah
In the hazy space between sleep and waking, I almost forget where I
am. I forget that my dad is dead because of me, and that I’m technically
sleeping in a stranger’s bed. But as my eyes adjust to the light, the
memories come flooding back, and I can’t stem the tears that follow.
How did this mess become my life? Why did I let an utterly despicable
asshole like Brody take control of my mind and body? My parents never
beat me, though they weren’t always around. My mom’s a pretty scattered
person, and my dad was constantly working.
Materially speaking, I had everything a girl could ever want. But
knowing my parents love me isn’t the same thing as feeling their love.
Brody saw what I was missing and worked hard to fill in the cracks. He
weaseled his way into my mind and heart, until I was convinced that he was
the only one I needed. And the only escape I got from Brody’s control were
the weeks I spent here at the cabin with my family.
I aim my sobs into the pillow as the memories come rushing back:
playing cards on the porch with my parents, helping my mom hang the
laundry, all the afternoons I spent hunting and fishing with my dad. Maybe
if those moments hadn’t been segregated to only a few weeks every
summer, I wouldn’t have fallen prey to Brody’s manipulation. I wouldn’t
have let him mold me into the kind of person who lies and steals and cheats
to get what they want.
Because that’s who I really am underneath. I put on a good-girl act for
my parents, but inside, my blood is poison, killing everything I touch. What
happened to my dad was my fault. I can lie to my mom, to the police, to the
whole damn world, but there’s no lying to myself.
Thankfully, lying to Silas came easily enough. Brody always said the
best lie is one that includes a version of the truth. When Silas threatened to
kick me out, I knew I had to tell him something. Not the whole truth, but
just enough for him to understand why I couldn’t go home.
My stomach twists and gurgles. At first, I think it’s my guilt eating
away at me, until I remember I never actually bothered to eat dinner. I dry
my eyes, and drag myself out of bed, listening for signs that Silas is up and
walking around. Hearing nothing, I tiptoe to the kitchen for a towel and
then scurry back to the bathroom to shower. I put on a fresh pair of panties
and a black tank, plus my shorts from yesterday.
I’m about to leave the bedroom when I remember my dead
smartphone. After rummaging through my backpack for the power cord, I
plug my phone in to charge, but don’t bother powering it on. I don't need to
deal with the barrage of threatening texts that are undoubtedly waiting for
me.
In the kitchen, I make toast with peanut butter as quietly as I can,
knowing Silas is still asleep in the loft. As I’m putting away the bread, I
hear him yawn, and decide to leave everything out in case he wants
breakfast. I also put the kettle on. My mom’s a big tea drinker, so there’s
always plenty of tea bags in the cupboard. Instant coffee, too. My grandma
on my dad’s side used to say there wasn’t anything two people couldn’t
come to terms with over a cuppa.
I pray she’s right, as I pretend not to watch the hottest man I’ve ever
seen making his way down the stairs.
“Morning,” he says. I do a double take before I realize why the jeans
and T-shirt he’s wearing look familiar. He’s wearing my dad’s clothes.
“Hope you don’t mind, I raided the drawers. I didn’t exactly pack for this
trip.”
“It’s fine.” I swallow the lump of sadness and try to smile. “I put on
water for tea or coffee, and there’s bread for toast.”
He nods. I let him find the instant coffee on his own so I can check
him out without being noticed. The jeans he’s wearing are about an inch
and a half too short for him, and the Guns N’ Roses T-shirt hugs his body
like spandex. I knew he was a big guy, but now that he’s testing the seams
of my dad’s old clothes, I have a clearer idea of just how jacked he is. I
wonder what he does for a living, if he works out a lot or if he gets his
muscles from breaking up boulders with his bare hands.
Just thinking about his hands sends warm chills down my spine. Last
night, he’d stood close enough to me that I could smell him—a heady mix
of sweat and something undeniably masculine. I should have felt terrified
with my back against the wall and a strange man towering over me. Yet
somehow, I knew Silas wasn’t a threat. When he touched my face, I flushed
from head to toe, and wished with all my heart that he hadn’t rejected my
offer to blow him—not because I wanted his money, but because I wanted
him.
And even though he’d told me no with his words, I had a sneaking
suspicion that his body still wanted me. That’s why I didn’t bother to put
shorts on before opening my door. I wanted to gauge his reaction to seeing
me in my underwear.
“Cream?” His question yanks me out of my memory. I tear my gaze
from his backside.
“There’s dehydrated milk in the pantry, but that’s it.”
He fixes two black instant coffees, sets one in front of me, then pops
two pieces of bread into the toaster. I munch my own breakfast at the table
as he makes his, spreading jam onto one slice of toast, and peanut butter on
the other. He settles into the seat across from me, then takes a large bite of
his PB&J, devouring nearly a quarter of the sandwich in one go.
His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “So, how old are you, really?”
“Eighteen.” I sip my coffee, a little bitter but not too bad. “How old are
you?”
“I was born the same year as your dad,” he says.
I do the math. “So, thirty-eight?”
“Thirty-seven. My birthday’s in November”
“I was close,” I say. “Still, that’s not too old.”
“Not too old for what?”
I quirk my lips into a flirty smile. Silas shakes his head.
“I meant what I said last night, sweetheart. I’m not gonna throw you
out, so you don’t have to flirt with me like your life depends on it. This
place is more yours than it is mine, and I plan to give it back to you. I just
need a few days to figure things out.”
“What things?” It occurs to me that Silas might be running from
something, too.
“My job, for starters.” He finishes his sandwich and washes it down
with more coffee. “I sort of up and quit without notice.”
“Do you wish you hadn’t?”
 “No. I was losing my mind in that place. I should’ve changed course
years ago.”
“Changed from what?”
“Real estate,” he says with a grimace.
“You mean, like, real-life House Hunters?” I cannot picture Silas
guiding a stuffy middle-aged couple through a four-bedroom bungalow as
they ooh and ahh over crown molding.
“Commercial real estate, but yeah, pretty much.” He gathers our dirty
breakfast plates and sets them in the sink. “As for where I’m headed, who
the hell knows. What about you?”
I close one eye and pretend to study him closely. “I’m thinking
lumberjack.”
“Maybe in a few weeks.” He palms his stubble. “But I meant, where
are you headed?”
I shrug. “Don’t know. Someplace far from home.”
“Where’s home?”
“Maryland. We moved there eight years ago, when my dad got a job at
the hospital in DC.”
I note his look of disbelief. “Was your dad a doctor?”
“Hospital administrator.”
“That’s almost more surprising,” he says. “I can’t picture Jack putting
on a suit every day.”
I can’t imagine my dad not wearing a suit and tie to work, but
apparently Silas knew him before all that. “What was my dad like as a kid?”
He tips back in his chair. “A little neurotic, but happy. He loved
coming out here even more than I did. His dad tried hard to get him into
hunting, but Jack couldn’t hurt a gnat on a fly’s back.”
“Seriously?” Now it’s my turn to stare in disbelief. “He used to take
me hunting out here every summer.”
Silas squints at me over the rim of his mug. “Jack hunted?”
“Of course. He taught me how to shoot. I mean, I never got anything,
but it was nice just to be out there with him. Some of his rifles are still here,
in the safe.”
A strange look passes over Silas’s features, then vanishes. I’m starting
to think there’s more to the story between him and my dad than he’s willing
to share.
 “I know my dad wasn’t perfect,” I tell him. “He told me he got into
some really shady stuff before I was born. But for as long as I knew him, he
was a good man, even if he wasn’t around much. He saw the best in
people.” I don’t finish the thought out loud: in the end, that’s what got him
killed.
“People change, I guess,” Silas says.
“Some people can.” Tears burn my eyes. Taking my mug to the sink, I
pour out the cold coffee and then start to put away the fixings from
breakfast. As I reach up to store the peanut butter on the top shelf of the
cupboard, I feel the warm sweep of a feather-light stroke on my right hip.
"Where’d you get this?" Silas asks. He’s so close I can feel his breath
on my neck and the heat from his body behind me. Again, he traces the V-
shaped scar on my hip. My shirt must’ve ridden up when I went to put away
the peanut butter.
"My ex gave it to me,” I tell him. “He used a bent metal coat hanger.
Heated it up with his lighter. He promised it wouldn’t hurt. He lied."
Silas doesn’t move a muscle, but I can feel his anger crackling around
him like the quiet before a crash of thunder. Brody hadn’t forced me to take
his brand, but with him, it was never a choice. He just assumed that I would
always do what he commanded. And in the end, I always did.
"Why a V?" Silas asks. I put the sink at my back and Silas in front of
me. I’m not ready for the look on his face, or the rage he’s barely containing
for my sake. It’s a look I would’ve expected to find on my dad’s face, had I
gathered the courage to tell him what Brody was doing to me. Silas has no
reason to care beyond general pity, but he’s obviously taking my situation to
heart.
“It means virgin. Brody got off on the idea of me being ‘untouched.’
He’d fuck my mouth twice a day, but he wouldn't touch my pussy. He said
he was saving it for a special occasion."
I don’t know why I’m telling him this, beyond the simplest reason:
because he asked. Normally, when it comes to keeping secrets, I’m a
fortress. But something about Silas makes me want to tell him things I’ve
never told anyone. I feel like I can trust him. I don’t even flinch when he
reaches out to squeeze my shoulder. I don’t mind that he’s placed himself
well within my personal bubble, or that he’s made it his business to worry
about me.
 “You’re safe now,” he says. “That waste of fucking space isn’t coming
anywhere near you again.”
“I know. That’s why I came out here, to get away from him and
everyone. He knows where my friends live, all the places I usually go. He
has a habit of just showing up wherever I am, without warning. But right
now, the only person who knows where I am is you."
His mouth tips into a small, lopsided smile. “Sorry I crashed your
hiding spot.”
I shake my head. “No, I like that you’re here. It feels safer.”
He studies my mouth like he wants to kiss me, and I desperately wish
that he would. I know it bothers him that he’s so much older than me, but I
honestly don’t see the problem. I want him to want me, and I suspect that he
does.
“Just so you know,” I say, “I wasn’t flirting with you because I needed
a place to stay.”
His brow arches. “Oh yeah?”
“I was flirting because, even though you’re a grumpy bastard, I like
you.” Even as he smirks, I can feel his gaze boring into me. He’s so
controlled, but little by little, I can sense his resolve slipping. His hands curl
into fists like he’s fighting to stop himself from using them. I want him to
use them on me.
Eventually, his control wins out over his desire.
Folding his arms across his chest, he takes a step back and clears this
throat.
“The bathroom sink’s leaking,” he says, definitively changing the
subject. “Where’d your dad keep his toolbox?”
“There’s a workshop out in the garage. If you need any help fixing up
the place, I’ve been told I’m pretty good with a hammer.”
Silas heads for the door. Just when I think he’s chosen not to dignify
my bad joke with a response, he fires back with, “When I find some wood
that needs nailing, I’ll call you.”

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Seven

Silas
“Go fish,” Norah says.
I draw a card from the pile on the wooden table between us. “That’s
four queens.” I set aside the small stack of royals. “Your turn.”
Her eyes narrow as she studies the cards in her hand. I’ve come to
learn that in addition to biting her lip, she sometimes closes her left eye
when she’s trying to focus. Her dad used to do the same thing.
“Got any sixes?” she asks.
I sigh and toss her the three sixes I’ve been saving. She grins.
“Looks like I’m going to win.” She gathers the sixes and adds them to
the pile of fours-of-a-kind stacked next to her.
“You sure you’re not cheating?”
“Asked the sore loser.” She shakes her head. “Pitiful. Got any Jacks?”
“Go fish.” I rearrange the cards in my hand, fighting back a smile. I’ve
been doing that more often than usual lately. Smiling, laughing, cracking
jokes. She brings it out of me. She’s pretty quick herself, always keeping
me on my toes. It didn’t take long for me to realize that Norah Benson is a
pistol without a safety.
It’s been four days since I offered her a ride. That’s four days living
with a girl half my age. Eating together, doing chores together, watching the
sunset, and roasting marshmallows by the fire. There are moments when I
forget the reason she’s here, when the why and how of what she’s lost and
what she’s running from falls away, and it’s just the two of us camping
under the stars.
Then I recall the pain her eyes as she described the things her ex-
boyfriend had done to her, and my blood starts to simmer. That fucker had
better pray he never meets me, because if I ever get my hands on him, he’s
dead. No questions. No mercy.
 “Time to cough up those threes,” I say.
A cool breeze ruffles Norah’s hair. She pouts. “How’d you know?”
“I warned you when we started that you were playing with a Go Fish
champion.” I take her threes and make a stack. “Your dad and I used to
play, and nine times out of ten, I always beat him.”
“You gonna brag some more or can we keep on playing?”
“Someone’s eager to lose.” I snicker. If you’d asked me a week ago if
I’d ever be caught dead playing cards on this porch again, I’d have said you
were dreaming. I had forgotten how much I loved being up here, on the
mountain. And the improvements Jack made to the cabin are truly
remarkable.
But even with the updates, there were still hinges that needed oiling,
shutters that needed nailing, and a few planks on the porch were starting to
rot. And as it turns out, Norah hadn’t been lying; she really is good with a
hammer. We set out to fix the things we could, made a list of the supplies
we needed, all while eating our weight in s’mores and peanut-butter
sandwiches.
Yesterday afternoon, I stopped into town to pick up hardware supplies
and groceries. When I got back, Norah wasn’t in the cabin. I called for her
outside, but she didn’t answer. I checked the garage. No sign.
Panic wrapped its cold fingers around my throat. Was she out for a
walk? Or, had she gotten bored of mountain life and decided to hitchhike
home?
I searched the woods, and eventually found her by the brook, sitting on
a rock overlooking a small pool. She wasn’t naked, but she was damn near
close, and she’d obviously already jumped in to cool off. Dappled sunlight
glinted off the droplets on her legs. I knew what the water would taste like
if I licked it off her thighs. Fresh. Clean. Cold.
My cock—already at half mast from being around her the past few
days—was two throbs away from bursting through my zipper. For one brief
moment of insanity, I asked myself what would be so wrong with giving her
what she wants. She hasn’t stop flirting with me since the night I picked her
up. I’d been chalking it up to loneliness or a rebound crush. But if all she
really wants is to forget about her shitty life for a few hours, what would be
so wrong about granting her the reprieve? About granting it to each other?
I couldn’t remember ever wanting anything so much. But I also
couldn’t shake the feeling that this girl was dropped into my lap for a
reason.
Against my better judgment, I’m starting to care about Norah—about
her happiness, and what she needs. She needs someone she can rely on to
be there when the going gets rough. She isn’t a fast fuck, or a pit stop. She’s
a girl on the run who just lost her father, and as badly as I want to put my
hands on her, I know the second I cross that line, I won’t be the man she
needs anymore.
I’ll just be the old guy who picked her up in his truck, brought her
back to his cabin, and fucked her.
A gust of wind blows the playing cards off the table. Norah drops to
her knees to collect the deck before it’s lost. I join her, stuffing the cards in
the box as I grab them.
“Cold front’s moving in. I’ll go split some wood.” I hand her the box
of cards and then run around back to fetch the axe. Beneath the awning off
the garage sits a pile of logs protected from the elements by a blue tarp.
I grab an armful of logs and take them to the chopping block. I bust
through half a dozen before I feel like I’m being watched. When I turn, I
find Norah standing there, watching me.
“Enjoying the show?” I grab a fresh log. She shivers as if shaking off a
trance.
“I’ll start bringing these in.” She fills her arms with wood and then
runs off, returning just as the first drop of rain hits the back of my neck. I
break up the last log and help her gather the remaining pieces. We’re
halfway to the house when the sky opens up, dumping frigid water down on
top of us.
“Better make a run for it,” I yell.
We sprint toward the house. Norah reaches the porch before I do,
dumping her pile on the porch with the first load so she can open the door. I
rush inside, drop my wood by the fireplace, then hurry back to help her with
the rest.
Thunder rumbles in the distance. My T-shirt clings to my chest and
back, and my jeans feel like they’ve gained thirty pounds.
“It got so cold so fast.” Norah rubs her arms. Even in the dim, gray
light, I can make out the points of her nipples through her tank top. My
cock perks up as I imagine fixing my mouth to her breast, tonguing her
nipple through her shirt. I picture her without the shirt altogether. Soft,
creamy skin. Round, jiggly tits. Stiff nipples.
 She catches me staring, and rather than cover herself, she stands up
straighter. Forcing myself to look away is like telling a wolf not stalk a
rabbit, or a lion not to lick its chops. Someday soon, Norah and I are going
to sit down and discuss what to do about this thing between us. It’s time to
set some ground rules, like no more paper-thin tank tops.
“Go dry off,” I tell her. “I’ll start the fire.”
She looks like she wants to say something, then purses her lips. As
soon as I hear the bathroom door close, I let out a breath.
“Fuck...” This isn’t good. I have to get myself under control before she
comes back.
I stack the logs in the fireplace, tuck a crumpled piece of paper into the
center, then light it with a match. The fire crackles to life as another rumble
of thunder shakes the cabin. The storm will be on top of us in a few
minutes.
I peel my wet shirt off and toss it in the washer along with my jeans.
My boxers are damp, but I leave them on so I don’t accidentally give Norah
and eyeful on my way up to the loft. I’m about to head upstairs for dry
clothes when I spot Norah standing by the fire, gripping a towel around
herself that barely covers her ass.
She eyes me through strands of rain-soaked hair. I know she’s naked
under the towel, and I know all it would take to see her in all her glory is a
swift flick of the wrist.
“Silas,” she says. I don’t move a muscle. She moves closer, her bare
feet sinking into the rug with every step.
My muscles tense like they’re gearing up for a fight.
She drops her towel, and my pulse jackknifes.
“I want you.” She takes another step. I can’t stop my gaze from
drinking her in, and soon enough, I’m drunk. The firelight flickers off her
bare skin. She’s even more beautiful than I imagined.
The boxers I’m wearing are a size too small. They don’t stand a chance
once my cock starts to swell. She glances down at my bulge and her lips
drift apart. I catch the glint of her teeth and the tip of her soft, pink tongue
as she wets her mouth.
“Norah, we talked about this. I’m too old for you.”
“Actually, you’ve avoided talking about this. And you’re the only one
who thinks you’re too old for me.”
 My fingers twitch at the realization that she’s close enough to touch
now. Rising onto her toes, she gently skims her nails through my beard
before running a fingertip over my lower lip. It’s a titan effort to keep my
hands at my sides, as her nipples brush against my chest. She’s so fucking
beautiful.
“I feel safe with you,” she says, “and I like that you want to look out
for me. But I also like the way my heart beats faster when I’m around you. I
feel like I can talk to you about anything.”
“You can talk to me.” I rest my hands on her shoulders, hoping she
won’t notice how badly they’re shaking. “You’re just missing your dad,
sweetheart. That’s all this is.”
She cocks an eyebrow. “Silas, my dad and I never did anything like
this. But you’re right, I do miss him. So much.” Her lip trembles. She takes
a ragged breath. “This isn’t about him. I think about you all the time. And I
know you think about me. I’ve heard you jerking off in the shower.”
Her hand brushes my abdomen and threatens to glide downward. I
catch her wrist before she reaches my boxers. If she touches my cock again,
I won’t be able to stop. I’ll have her on her back in front of the fire with her
legs in the air faster than she can say, fuck me, Daddy.
There’s that word again.
I take a step back, but she follows. Then I realize I’m still holding onto
her wrist. She tries again with her free hand, cupping my erection before I
can stop her.
My cock pulses against her palm. It takes the last remaining speck of
my control to tell her, “Don’t start something you can’t finish, little girl.”
“That’s the thing, Silas. I want you to finish it.”
She kneels on the carpet in front of me, then pulls my boxers down.
My cock juts out at her, tapping her cheek. Her eyes go wide as she grasps
the shaft. Her fingers don’t even fit all the way around.
I rest my hand atop her head. This is my last chance to push her away.
But I can’t escape the pull of those big, green eyes. “All right, sweetheart.
Show me how much you want this cock.”
She licks the tip gently. I suck in a breath. She licks up and down the
length of my cock, then places a kiss on the head.
With her eyes locked on mine, she takes the head into her mouth.
My hand fists in her hair. She bobs her head, taking me deeper with
each slow pass, and gliding my shaft along her velveteen tongue. Already,
my balls feel tight, like they could erupt. I fight the urge to fuck her face,
but she’s sucking me off too well. My hips rock. She takes it like a pro, only
flinching a little when my head makes contact with the back of her throat.
“That’s it, baby,” I rasp. “That’s a good girl.”
Norah’s mouth feels like it was made to wrap around my cock—the
front two-thirds of it, anyway. Frankly, I’m impressed she’s managed to
take that much.
Thunder rattles the cabin. The storm’s right on top of us now. The heat
from the fire warms my left side and illuminates the right half of Norah’s
gorgeous face. She looks younger on her knees. Less hardened. More
vulnerable.
Guilt scratches at the back door of my mind, but I refuse to answer.
I’m too focused on the beauty in front of me.
I thought having sex with her would undermine the bond we’ve
worked so hard to build. I was wrong. Someone or something brought us
together for a reason. I was meant to find her, just as she was always meant
to be mine. Mine to protect, mine to love, mine to take care of. I’ll be her
guardian because it’s what she needs, and her husband someday, if that’s
what she wants.
But what I really want to be is her Daddy.
Norah already knows what it’s like to live under the thumb of an
abusive prick who doesn’t deserve her. I want to show her how it feels to be
guided through life by a firm, yet loving Dom. I haven’t topped a woman in
years, and the last time I did, it was very casual. I couldn’t be casual with
Norah if I tried.
She quickens her pace, turning her hands into an extension of her
mouth. Pleasure courses through my veins. I’m going to come soon. I grasp
her hair with both fists and fuck her mouth as her mouth fucks me.
My balls tighten. My cock throbs.
“You’re gonna swallow it all, aren’t you, sweetheart?” I rasp as a
warning that I’m about to paint her throat. “You’re gonna take it all, like a
good girl.”
She doesn’t slow down or pull off. She knows what’s coming. She
wants it.
I groan through clenched teeth as heat and pleasure surges up and out
of my cock. It’s like a fucking geyser, emptying my balls and filling her
mouth with everything I’ve got.
 Her throat contracts around the tip of my dick as she swallows every
drop. I pet the side of her face like a kitten. “That’s Daddy’s good girl,” I
tell her. “Daddy’s dirty girl...”
As soon as the words leave my mouth, I regret them. I should’ve
talked to her about it first, made sure she was into the whole Daddy Dom
thing before I went and dropped the D-word. If she’s not familiar with the
kink, she’s going to think I’m sick, or that in some twisted way, I’m trying
to take her dad’s place. That’s not my goal at all. Jack will always be her
father. But only I can be her Daddy.
She lets my cock slip from her mouth, then licks her reddened lips. I
clear my throat and rack my brain for a way to explain myself.
But before I can even say a word, she hits me with, “Did I do a good
job, Daddy?”
The fire dances in her green eyes as she gazes up at me. Once again,
I’m lost in her emerald spell. Of course calling me Daddy would come as
naturally to her as calling her sweetheart came to me.
We were fucking made for each other.
“Baby, you were perfect.”
I hook my hands beneath her arms and lift her. She wraps her legs
around me. I kiss her swollen mouth, salty from swallowing my cum, and
carry her over to the dining table. I lay her down on the tabletop and
proceed to kiss and lick every inch of her neck and chest. She whimpers as I
swirl my tongue over her nipple.
“That feels good,” she says, and I’m so fucking glad because I’ve
wanted to taste her nipples for days. I play with her tits, cupping and
palpating them, making them jiggle.
I suck her nipples until they’re as red as her mouth.
My cock, never having gone soft, aches to get inside her. But I need to
make sure she’s good and wet before I try testing her virgin pussy. I spread
her thighs and growl with anticipation at the sight of her glistening folds.
Spreading her lips, I gently stroke her clit with my thumb.
“Oh my god.” Norah’s whole body twitches as her words come out in
a single stream. “Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod...”
“You okay, sweetheart?”
She nods. “It just feels so much better when you do it.”
“Better when I stroke your clit?” I wag my thumb up and down over
her tight little nub. She bites her lip, rising onto her elbows to watch me
work.
She looks like a kid who’s just learned how their favorite candy is
made.
“Has anyone ever touched you here, Norah?”
She shakes her head. I try not to gawk at her in disbelief.
“Your ex never made you come?” I ask. She shakes her head again.
“But you’ve played with yourself?”
Color fills her cheeks. “Maybe... A couple of times.”
Her shyness is adorable. Still, I can’t believe no guy’s ever given this
angel an orgasm. All I know is, this situation calls for more than just
thumbs.
Grasping her knees, I scoot her ass to the edge of the table and then
pull out a chair. Her eyes go wide as cherry pies as I take a seat in front of
her spread thighs.
“Make yourself comfortable, sweetheart. Daddy’s ravenous.”

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Eight

Norah
Silas licks my pussy, and everything else fades into the background.
I assumed oral sex would feel good, but nobody told me it would
render me into a puddle of liquid pleasure all over the dining table. His
beard tickles my sensitive lips as he covers my clit with his mouth. I moan
as he sucks me gently, my hands gripping the edge of the table.
“Daddy...” I whimper. “Oh, god, Daddy...” I can’t stop moaning the
word. When Silas called himself my Daddy, it was like the stars aligned in
my own private universe. Everything I’ve been missing, all of my
conflicting desires, suddenly made sense. How safe and secure I feel in his
presence. How desperately I want to touch him.
I close my eyes and focus on the wonderful things his tongue is doing.
Swirling and lapping, sending tingles up my back and down my arms.
Silas exhales a warm breath as he draws his tongue from the base of
my pussy all the way up to my clit. My hips buck. I might actually be too
excited to come, but I’m happy just to let him explore. He can play with my
pussy when, where, and however he wants.
“You’re delicious, baby girl. I could eat this pussy every day, for
breakfast, lunch, and dinner.” He kisses my inner thigh, then dives back
down to continue devouring me. I whimper as pleasure twists and curls like
smoke inside me, reaching into my deepest, darkest corners.
He settles into a steady rhythm. After a moment, I feel his finger tease
my opening, then glide inside with no trouble at all. I’ve never had anything
inside my pussy, not even tampons. He fucks me with his finger, and soon,
my hips are rocking to meet his thrusts.
The fact that Silas is touching parts of me that have never been
touched before is both a mindfuck and not surprising at all. I think deep
down I was always waiting for someone like him—maybe even waiting for
Silas himself. That’s the only explanation I have for why this feels so
natural. So inevitable. So right.
The orgasm I didn’t think I could reach is suddenly rushing over me. I
white knuckle the table as my inner muscles tighten around Silas’s finger—
correction, fingers. I don’t know when he added the second digit, but I feel
my pussy clench and release around both of them. He doesn’t stop licking
my clit even as my entire body shakes and shudders.
I bury my hands in his dirty-blond hair. My clit is bordering on overly
sensitive after my first orgasm, but it feels too good to make him stop. He
flutters his tongue lightly, teasing me, but it’s just what I need for him to
push me over the slope a second time. I hurtle into another orgasm, this one
sharper, more acute.
Silas withdraws his fingers from my pussy and slips them into his
mouth. His gaze centers on mine as he savors the taste of me. I watch
closely, brain fogged and a little sore. He stands so that he’s towering over
me, his hard cock resting on my mound. It’s so long and thick, I can’t
believe I was able to fit even half of it in my mouth.
“Do you know what it means to be Daddy’s good girl, Norah?” he
asks.
It takes me a second to organize my thoughts into words. “It means
I’m yours.”
“That’s right.” He glides his hand up my stomach to rest between my
breasts. “But more importantly, it means you choose to be mine, because
you want to serve me, as my little girl.”
I know what he’s doing. He’s giving me the choice my ex never did.
The choice to be owned, possessed, dominated. But I already know my
answer to the question he hasn’t asked yet.
“I want you, Silas.” I lay my hand over his on my chest. “I’ve been
yours from the day I climbed into your truck.”
Heat flares in his eyes, and I can see him working hard to tamp it
down. He’s obviously holding back because this is my first time. But I don’t
want him to hold back. I want the fire inside him to consume me.
I sit upright and press a kiss his collarbone, aware of the tension in his
muscles.
“Fuck me, Daddy,” I tell him. “I want to know what it means to be
your baby girl.”
 Finally, his desire overtakes him. He pulls me flush against his chest
and kisses me with enough force to bruise my lips. His need for me is
evident in the hard cock pressed against my belly. He breaks the kiss to say,
“Take a deep breath, baby girl. It’s gonna be a tight fit.”
I brace my hands on his shoulders as he lines his cock up with my
pussy. As he draws me in close, his cockhead slips inside me. I gasp. My
muscles burn as he eases further into me, inch by rock-hard inch. When he’s
all the way inside, I wrap my arms around his neck and hold on for dear
life.
“Your pussy feels like heaven, baby girl.” He withdraws partway and
then thrusts back in. I moan. “How does it feel for you?”
“It’s so...big.”
“I know, sweetheart.” He grasps my hips and starts to piston back and
forth. “But I know you can take it. Show me what a brave girl you are.
Show me how you handle Daddy’s need for you.”
I slowly adjust to having something long and thick inside me.
Thankfully, I’m more than wet enough to take him. After the initial ache
subsides, the slip-slide of his cock in my pussy starts to feel good. I rock my
hips, doing my best to meet his thrusts.
And pretty soon, it starts to feel nothing short of amazing.
“That’s my girl,” he rasps. “I swear your pussy was made to take my
cock.”
He fucks me harder. I hold on tight to his shoulders and take the
pounding he’s giving me. I want this, all of it, even the parts that hurt. He
kisses me, and I lose myself in the feeling of his tongue in my mouth and
his cock railing me. It’s like he’s a part of me now, and I know it’s too early
to feel this way about him, but I think I could love this man.
I yelp as Silas slides his hands under my ass and lifts me like I weigh
nothing. He fucks me in midair, walks us over to the wall, then pins me
against the wood. I hook my ankles behind his back for stability. I’m not
exactly light as a feather, but Silas is strong. I trust him not to drop me.
“You feel so fucking good, Norah. I’m gonna come soon...” He pumps
faster. “I’m gonna come inside you.”
“Come inside me, Daddy.” I can’t believe I’m saying it, but I actually
want him to. I want to feel him shoot off inside me, feel it dripping down
my thighs as I walk.
 Silas grips my ass to the point of pain as he drives his cock deep. I yelp
as he slams my backside against the wall, sending echoes of pleasure
throughout my entire body. Heat pours into my pussy as he continues to
pump. His breathing is ragged. For a fleeting instant, there’s a vulnerability
to his movements, like he’s lost to himself and his pleasure.
After catching his breath, he walks me back to the dining table and sets
me down.
It’s darker inside the cabin than it was when we brought the wood in.
The fire crackles, though the flame could use another log. I listen to the rain
tapping on the metal roof for a long moment, before I realize I don’t hear
the hum of the fridge.
“The power’s out,” I say. One of the quirks of living on a mountain is
that the power always goes out when it storms. “It’ll come back when the
rain stops.”
“Guess we’ll have to keep ourselves busy.” Silas kisses my neck.
Finally, his cock softens and slips out of my body. He kisses me softly,
whispering against my lips, “That was beautiful, Norah. I’m sorry I sprang
the whole Daddy thing on you.”
“It’s okay. I loved it.”
“I’ve never wanted to be someone’s Daddy before,” he says. “But I
can’t imagine playing with you any other way.”
“I’ve never wanted to be anyone’s baby girl, until now.” I bite my lip
as I smile. “You’re saying I’m your first?”
His fingers tangle in the hair at the base of my neck. “My first and
only.”
I sigh into his kiss. We kiss and hold each other until the chill causes
my arms to break out in goosebumps. Silas grabs the spare blanket from the
back of the sofa and wraps me in it, then adds a few logs to the fire. I notice
a wet spot on the table between my thighs, and recognizing it as cum—his
and mine—I drag my fingertip through the puddle and then taste it.
“Oh, baby,” he growls. “Watching you do that is so fucking hot.”
I bite my lower lip and shrug. “I just like the taste of you.”
We cuddle by the fire until our growling stomachs force us to seek out
food. Fortunately, the stove runs on gas, so we don’t need electricity to
cook. Silas heats us up a can of tomato soup, while I make the grilled
cheese sandwiches.
The power comes back on halfway through our meal.
 “It’s too bad,” he says. “I kinda liked eating by firelight.”
“Me, too.” I sip tomato soup from my mug. “Is that how it was before
this place had electricity?”
“Yeah, pretty much.” A hint of sadness seeps into his smile. I consider
letting it go, but the not knowing has to be worse than knowing.
“Did something happen between you and my dad?”
Silas stares at his plate for a while. “A long time ago, before you were
born, Jack broke into my apartment and took something very special from
me.”
“What did he take?”
“A rifle. It was my dad’s last gift to me before he died.” He scrubs a
hand down his face. “Jack sold it to buy drugs.”
“Oh...” My heart aches for Silas, but also for my dad. In a few rare
moments of vulnerability, my dad told me he’d done some things in his
youth that he wasn’t proud of. He wouldn’t go into detail, but it was
obvious the awful things he’d done still haunted him. I suspect it’s why he
was always so forgiving toward my own fuckups.
“It’s not just that he stole it,” Silas adds. “It’s that, when I confronted
him about it, he lied to my face. Before my dad died, he asked me if it was
worth throwing away almost twenty years of friendship over a stupid
grudge. But Jack apparently thought nothing of throwing it all away over a
bag of coke, so...” Silas shrugs.
Guilt winds tighter and tighter around my throat, like vines. For days,
I’ve wanted to tell him everything, the whole messed-up story. But I'm
scared once he learns the truth about what I’ve done, the things I allowed to
happen, he'll hate me.
My dad lied to him twenty years ago, and they never saw each other
again. If I tell him I’m the reason my father’s dead, he won’t be able to see
me as his little girl. The day we met, he looked me in the eye and told me
not to lie to him. A man like Silas isn't going to differentiate between a lie
of omission and a half truth.
I bring our dishes to the sink, rinse them, then tell Silas I’m going to
take a shower. In the bedroom, I decide it’s finally time to turn on my
phone. As I suspected, there are over twenty missed calls and three dozen
text messages. Some from my mom, a few from my friends, but most of
them from Brody.
 “What’s wrong?” Silas asks from the doorway. I must be wearing my
anxiety on my face.
“Nothing,” I say, turning my phone back off. “Just some stupid texts.”
Honestly, I wish they were just stupid. Stupid, I can take. Rude,
insulting, even disgusting messages can be purged without a second
thought. But the threats Brody’s been sending me are bone-chilling. Not
least of all because I know he’s capable of following through.
“From your ex?” Silas asks, joining me on the bed. I nod. He folds his
arms around me and strokes my back. “You’re safe now, baby girl. No one
is ever going to hurt you again.”
If only I could believe him.

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 Chapter Nine

Silas
“Careful,” I tell Norah. “Don’t stick yourself.”
She bats my hand away. “This isn’t my first time fishing, you know.”
I lean back and watch her bait the worm on the hook. It takes her a
minute to secure the wriggler, but eventually she gets it. Honestly, I never
doubted that she could do it on her own. I just like to be the one to show her
how.
“Voila,” she says. “Told you I had this, Daddy.” Sometimes she calls
me Daddy, sometimes Silas, depending on her mood. But in bed, I’m
always Daddy, and she’s always sweetheart or baby girl.
“Forgive me for not wanting to see you impaled like that worm.” The
boat rocks slightly as she casts her line into the sun-dappled pond. I’ve been
in and out of the garage a hundred times looking for tools, but didn’t notice
the motorboat hitched to the rafters until this afternoon.
It was Norah who suggested we take the boat out. I was glad to find
the engine still had some juice. We hitched up the trailer, loaded up my
truck and drove the half mile down the mountain to the pond. The scene
was perfect from the moment we got here. Clear skies, and crystal waters.
Birdsong and crisp mountain air.
I know I said I’d give the cabin back to Norah’s mom, once I figured
out where the hell I was headed. But after a week in the great outdoors, I
can’t imagine returning to civilization. More importantly, I can’t imagine
going back to my empty apartment, back to the nine to five, back to life
before Norah.
And from the way she’s smiling at me now, I have a hunch she feels
the same way.
Ever since the day of the storm, I haven’t been able to keep my hands
off her. If I can’t touch her, then I need to at least be able to see her, and if I
can’t see her, I’m counting down the seconds till she’s in my arms.
 Being inside her feels like coming alive and coming home. My topping
style in the past has always been more heavy-handed. Before Norah, I never
wanted to call a submissive my baby girl. She brings out the Daddy in me,
the part that wants to cherish and look after her. But the Dom that wants to
tie her up and eat her from behind while fingering her tight little asshole is
always there, waiting for his chance to make her squirm and writhe. Just
last night, I had her bouncing up and down on my dick while we played a
rousing game of Simon Says. Halfway through the game, I realized I will
never get enough of this girl.
But it’s not all about the sex. Norah’s relaxed out here, quick to laugh
and quicker to smile. The fear has left her eyes, and she’s stopped jumping
at every little bump in the night. She’s even quit looking over her shoulder
when we go into town for supplies, because she knows what she’ll find if
she does. She’ll find me, watching her back, always close enough to reach
out and touch.
“I take it your dad taught you how to fish?” I ask her.
“He did. And I bet you’re going to tell me all about how much he
hated it when he was younger.”
“That’s where you’re mistaken.” I cast my line into the shimmering
pond. “Jack would’ve had to at least tried it to hate it. If he so much as
looked at a fish before it was cleaned and filleted, he couldn’t eat it. He said
their eyes were watching him.”
“Unbelievable. That bastard used to chase me around the yard with
fish eyeballs.” She stares out at the water, lost in her memories. “Do you
think he’s here with us?”
My body tenses. I don’t consider myself superstitious, and I haven’t
given much thought to whether I believe in Heaven and if so, which one.
But I suspect that if Jack were here somehow, he might not be so amenable
to the idea of me shacking up with his kid.
“I don’t know,” I tell her. “If he is, I hope he’s catching more fish than
we are.”
Her mouth tilts, but her smile doesn’t reach her eyes. “You don’t think
he’d be happy for us?”
“If I were him, and you were my daughter, I’d be furious.”
“I am yours.” She drapes her arm around my neck. “And if he were
here to see how good we are together I know he’d be happy for us.”
“You’re sure about that?”
 “I am.” Her optimism makes my chest tighten. I have to kiss her.
She moans softly as I weave my fingers into her hair. I have no real
idea how Jack would feel about the two of us. But in getting to know
Norah, I’ve gained a much clearer picture of the man he grew into. A
compassionate, responsible, hardworking man—a workaholic from the
sounds of it. Sadly, in his determination to provide for his family, he missed
out on watching his daughter grow up.
One thing I know in my bones is that Jack couldn’t have known what
Norah’s ex was putting her through. If he had, he’d have killed the little
prick himself. No doubt Brody had used her father’s absence to his
advantage. If Jack hadn’t been so busy working, he might’ve noticed the
anguish in her eyes, or the scars hiding in plain sight on her skin. He
would’ve put a stop to Norah’s pain before it even started.
Hell, I could’ve done the same.
If hadn’t refused Jack’s apology at my dad’s funeral, maybe we could
have patched things up. If I hadn’t been so stubborn, so self-righteous, I
could’ve been there to look out for Norah as she grew up. I could’ve sent
that shithead packing with two black eyes the moment he rolled up in the
driveway.
Everything about the trajectory of our lives could’ve been different.
“I think I’ve got something,” she says. Grasping her rod with both
hands, she starts to reel in her catch. Sure enough, her line goes stiff.
“Nice and steady, baby,” I tell her. “You’ve got this.”
She reels faster. A largemouth bass bursts out of the water, flapping
and twisting on the end of her line.
Norah beams proudly. “I got one. Daddy, I got one!
“Yes, you did, baby girl. And he’s a fatty.” I catch the line in the air
and bring the fish into the boat. “Grab the line. I’ll get the cooler.”
I hand the line off to Norah and fetch the ice-filled cooler, dragging it
to the center of the boat. When I turn back around, Norah’s staring off
toward the bank, holding up her fish like she’s showing it off.
“What’cha doing, sweetheart?”
“Showing my fish to the boy,” she says. “He’s cheering me on.”
I scan the bank. “Where is he? I don’t see him.”
She shoots me a strange look. “He’s right over there—” She turns back
to the shore and frowns. “I guess he ran off.”
 The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I shake off the odd feeling,
cut the fishing line with my pocket knife, then give the fish a few hard
smacks on the back of the head to kill it fast. After cutting the gills and
bleeding it out in the water, I submerge the bass in ice inside the cooler.
“Now we just have to make a quick stop at the store and then have
ourselves a nice fish dinner.”
I start the motor and take us back to shore where my truck’s parked.
We load up the fishing supplies and the cooler, hitch the boat to the trailer,
and then head into town. At the market, we pick up fresh herbs, olive oil,
and assorted veggies for grilling. Norah insists on getting a peach pie for
dessert, and I insist we grab a cherry pie, too, because why the hell not? We
get gas at the station next door, then start the drive back to the cabin.
Norah rests her hand on my thigh and says, “I had a really nice time
today, Daddy.”
I squeeze and rub her hand. “I had a nice day, too, baby girl.”
It occurs to me that every day could be like this, if we wanted it badly
enough. The cabin is practically a house at this point. What’s to stop us
from making it into our home? I could start my own real-estate consulting
firm, or shift gears completely and do something different. Norah could get
an online degree in whatever field sparks her interest. We could build a nice
little life together, Norah and me, up here on the mountain.
A figure slinks out of the trees beside the road. A small doe or a young
moose. I brace my foot on the brake, ready to stop the truck. But as we
drive past, I swear it looks more like a person waving. A boy with dark,
messy hair...
“Is that the kid you saw?” I ask Norah.
“What kid?”
“The kid by the road.”
“I didn’t see anyone by the road,” she says.
Again, the back of my neck breaks out in pins and needles. I shake off
the uneasiness and chalk it up to the twilight playing tricks on me.
The sun’s just beginning to set when we reach the cabin. I help Norah
unload the groceries onto the porch.
“I’ll start food prep,” she says. “You grab the charcoal and get the grill
up and running.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I fetch the bag of charcoal briquettes from the garage
and bring them around to the back porch. Dropping the bag by the grill, I
call to Norah through the open window, “Baby, I need matches.”
She doesn’t respond.
“Baby?” I call again. No answer.
I enter the kitchen through the back door. There’s a half-sliced
eggplant on the cutting board, but no knife.
No knife, and no Norah.
“How did you find me?” she says from the living room, her voice thin
and brittle.
My whole body goes rigid, every muscle pulled taut.
“Come on, Nor,” says a guy’s voice I don’t recognize. “Haven’t you
ever wondered how I always seem to know where you are?”
I move slowly through the kitchen, careful not to step on the loose
floor boards. Rounding the corner to peer into the living room, I see him.
Pale, skinny, greasy, and armed with a Glock.
“Remember how grateful you were when I gave you that new
smartphone?” he asks her. “I didn’t just buy it for you out of the kindness of
my heart. I installed a little tracking app, so I could keep tabs on you. Make
sure you weren’t off sucking some other guy’s dick. I thought I’d lost you
for a while, but as soon as you turned your phone back on, I knew exactly
where to find you.”
The greaseball reaches out to stroke Norah’s cheek. She flinches. My
blood turns to magma, my whole body into a raging inferno. I should be
coming up with a plan of attack, but all I see is red.
There’s a stranger in my cabin, and he’s pointing a gun at my little girl.

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 Chapter Ten

Silas
I round the corner, advancing on the asshole waving a Glock in Norah’s
face. The piece of shit spots me before I can reach him. Quickly, he grabs
Norah and drags her out in front of him, pressing the barrel of the gun to her
jaw.
“Take it easy, Daddy,” he says, his gaze narrowing. “Wouldn’t want to
ruin this pretty face.”
I stop in my tracks. The sight of Norah’s eyes filled with fear turns my
stomach. I don’t have to ask who the fuck this guy is. I already know.
“Put the fucking gun down, Brody.”
His mouth curls into a smirk at the sound of his own name. “I see
Norah’s told you about me. Though, I’m afraid I haven’t the slightest clue
who the fuck you are.”
“I’m the guy who’s gonna gut you like a fish if you don’t point that
gun somewhere else.”
Brody’s nostrils flare. “Empty threats are cute, but they don’t answer
my question.” He rubs Norah’s stomach. “I watched you two through the
window this morning. Watched you fuck her from behind. Heard her call
you Daddy. I’ll admit, I was a little jealous. She’s only ever called me that
because I told her to.”
I ball my hands into fists as he touches the gun to her lips.
“You’ve got this one wrapped tight around that pretty pussy of yours.”
He draws the barrel down her throat. “You think sucking Daddy two-point-
oh’s dick will ease your conscience?”
“Brody, please...” Her voice cracks. “Don’t...”
“You haven’t told new Daddy that you’re the reason old Daddy’s
dead?” He narrows his gaze at me. “It’s a killer story. You might want to sit
down for this.”
 “I’ll stand.” I have no idea what part Norah could have possibly played
in a random bank robbery. But as long as this blowhard keeps talking, he’s
not pumping bullets into my little girl. “Go on, enlighten me.”
“Norah was in on the heist from the start. We planned the whole thing.
Well, actually, my buddies and I planned the whole thing, but Norah
provided the important details. You see, she was a bank teller, so she knew
exactly how much cash they kept on hand, and how long it would take for
the cops to get there once the alarm was tripped.”
Norah studies me with tears in her eyes. I wait for her to shake her
head or object to the tale in some way, but the guilt written all over her face
tells me Brody’s story is true.
“The job went off beautifully,” Brody continues. The blowhard clearly
enjoys listening to himself talk. “Besides the one glaring, unfortunate hitch.
Why don’t you finish the story, Nor.”
He nudges her, sending tears streaming down her cheeks. She closes
her eyes. “He wasn’t supposed to be there.”
“No.” Brody sighs. “He wasn’t supposed to be there. But sweet little
Norah forgot her lunch, so dear old dad thought he’d do her a solid and drop
it off at work. Too bad he had to walk in at exactly the wrong moment.”
“I’m sorry, Silas.” Norah’s practically sobbing now. “I didn’t want to
lie, but I was scared—”
“Dad just had to play the hero,” Brody cuts her off. “I’m sure seeing
his daughter the way you’re seeing her now set off a spark in him he could
not extinguish. But I couldn’t let him come to her rescue. It would’ve upset
the whole plan.”
Rage churns in my gut, but as shocked as I am by this new
information, none of my ire is for Norah. Yes, she made terrible choices.
Yes, she lied. But I can’t blame her for what this monster made her do. She
may have opened the window of opportunity for Brody to creep in through,
but he’s the one who pulled the trigger.
I stare daggers into the eyes of Jack’s killer.
“Everything was perfect,” Brody says, running the gun barrel down
Norah’s cheek. “We were in the clear. But then my sweet, obedient Norah
went and got stupid. That’s the only reason I can think of for why she’d
threaten to turn me in.”
He wedges the gun barrel between her lips. My muscles cramp from
holding myself back from ripping his fucking head off. He’s right. I know
exactly how Jack must’ve felt, walking into that bank.
Brody grins. “You have the same look on your face as dear old dad.”
He whispers loudly to Norah, “I think this one’s in love with you, babe.”
As much as I hate giving the bastard credit for anything, he’s right
again. I do love her. I love her more than life itself. But also know that if I
do something rash, and he shoots me, there won’t be anyone left to stop him
from killing Norah.
Brody chuckles, a harsh, scratchy sound that makes my blood curdle.
“Wake up, man. You don’t actually think she gives two shits about you.
You’re just a means to an end. A loose end.” He touches the barrel, slick
with Norah’s saliva, to her temple. “I’m sorry it has to end like this, Nor. I
mean that.”
I expect her eyes to fill with terror, but all I find is renewed
determination. She meets my gaze, a look of urgency creeping across her
features, as her hand slinks out from behind her back.
The paring knife glints in her fist. This time, my smart girl came
prepared.
All she needs is a distraction.
“You know as soon as you shoot her, I’m gonna wrestle that gun from
you and pump your scrawny ass so full of bullets, you’ll be more lead than
meat.”
His sneer twists into a snarl. “That’s assuming you’re fast enough, old
man.”
“Maybe I’m not.” I stare him down. “But is that a chance you’re
willing to take?”
I can see the wheels turning behind his ugly mug as he weighs the
threat in front of him. Clearly, I’m the one he should be wary of. Not Norah.
Not his obedient little doll.
He swings the gun in the direction of my face. At that same moment,
Norah plunges the knife into Brody’s stomach.
The gun goes off.
Ringing fills my ears, but it only takes half a second to realize I’m not
shot.
And in that instant, I charge.
I slam into Brody, taking him down and forcing the knife deeper into
his gut. He howls.
“Norah, run!” I shout. She heads for the bedroom, probably to call 911.
 I grab Brody’s wrist and try to slam the Glock out of his hand.
Something hard makes contact with the side of my head—a hunk of
firewood. My temple throbs.
“Mother...fucker,” he blubbers, blood leaking from his mouth. I right
hook his jaw, sending at least one tooth flying. My hand slips on his wrist,
giving him a chance to smash the other side of my head with the butt of his
gun.
I wince as pain blurs my vision. He wrestles until he’s on top of me,
blood dripping from his battered gob. The barrel touches my brow.
“If I...can’t...have her,” he chokes out, “Neither...can...you.”
An explosion shakes the room. Brody’s body jerks and then collapses.
I take a second to catch my breath, then shove his limp ass onto the
hardwood. Whatever blood not soaked up by my pants and shirt now pools
on the floor. As I push myself up, I can see that Brody’s entire right side’s
been blown out.
“Is he dead?” I look to the bedroom doorway, and there stands Norah
—my little girl, my love—wielding a Chekov’s Marlin 1895 hunting rifle.
“Yeah, baby.” I approach her slowly. “He’s gone.”
I reach out to take the rifle, but her grip is firm. She’s still staring at
Brody’s lifeless body like it’s about to reanimate and attack her. I step
between her and Brody’s corpse, cupping her chin in my palm.
“It’s okay, baby girl. You can let go of the gun now. The bad man is
gone.”

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 Chapter Eleven

Norah
Silas holds me while he calls the sheriff’s office, and doesn’t let go all
throughout the interview—not even when the sheriff’s deputy threatens to
arrest him. I tell them everything. About the bank robbery and my dad and
Brody’s abuse.
They say they’ll be in touch with the Baltimore Police Department, but
allow me to stay with Silas as long as I promise not to skip town.
Since the cabin is effectively a crime scene, Silas books us a suite at
the ski resort in Gatlinburg. Normally, I’d be in awe of the enormous bed
and massive jacuzzi tub, but emotionally I still feel like wreckage washed-
up on the shore.
Now that Silas knows I lied to him he’ll never trust me again.
We had to surrender our blood-stained clothes as evidence, but there’s
still plenty of dried blood under our fingernails. Silas runs me a bath,
scenting the water with a few drops of lavender oil, compliments of the
resort. I expect him to leave me to it, but instead, he sheds his clothes. The
involuntary ache between my legs upon seeing him naked fills my chest
with regret.
What if this is the last time I’ll ever get this close to him?
He undresses me like I’m a child incapable of removing her own
snowsuit, then helps me into the tub. We sit together in the warm, scented
water, my back to his front. Using a washcloth, he bathes me, making sure
to scrub the dried blood from under my fingernails. Once I’m good and
clean, he begins to wash himself, careful not to disrupt the dressing the
paramedics applied to his temple.
When he’s finished, he cradles me like a baby, and that’s exactly how I
feel. Small and helpless in my Daddy’s arms.
“How long has your dad had the rifle you used tonight?” he asks.
 I clear the tightness from my throat. “For as long as I can remember.
We weren’t allowed to use it, though. He said it belonged to a friend.”
“What made you choose to use it tonight?”
I shrug one shoulder. “It looked like it would do the job.”
He chortles. “You know, that rifle’s the same make and model as the
one your dad took from me.”
My tears join the bathwater. “I guess you’ll be taking it back now.”
He sees my tears and shifts us so that I’m straddling his lap. Even skin
to skin, I’ve never felt farther away from him than I do at this moment.
“It’s okay, Norah,” he says. “It’s gonna be all right.”
“No, it’s not,” I sob. “I’ve ruined everything.”
“What have you ruined?”
“Us.” I suck in a ragged breath. “I ruined us. I lied to you, and now
you’re going to leave and never come back, just like you left my dad.”
Silas shakes his head and kisses me, catching my sobs in his mouth.
His tongue strokes mine. I melt against him, inhaling his exhales and
wishing he’d hold me forever and never let go. He kisses me until I’m
breathless, then pulls back, his eyes searching mine.
“Look at me, Norah. I used to think that what your dad did to me was
unforgivable. When he came to my father’s funeral, with you and your
mom, he tried to apologize, but I wouldn’t listen. I got in my car and drove
off, just like I did to you the night we met.” He cradles my face in his wet
hands. “I would give anything to go back to that afternoon and listen to
what Jack had to say.”
I don’t remember much from that day. Just bits and pieces. People in
dark clothing standing around a living room. My dad’s nervous chatter. My
mom getting a call and taking me outside so she could answer her phone. I
got grass stains all over my feet, and my mom got mad at me.
“That was your dad’s funeral?” I ask. “I don’t remember seeing you.”
“I saw you,” he says. “And it kills me to think that by not letting Jack
apologize, I missed out on years of knowing you.”
Silas runs his hands up and down my arms, then skims them across my
breasts. The gesture is arousing even through my sadness. I let my head fall
back as he strokes my nipples, the occasional tear still trailing down my
neck. His touch is so tender it tickles, but I relish it. Even as I can’t help
feeling like I don’t deserve to be coddled. Not after everything.
“I wish I’d known you before,” I whisper.
 “Me, too,” he says. “I keep thinking that if I’d been in the picture
sooner, you wouldn’t have dated Brody. And if you hadn’t dated him, then
he wouldn’t have had a reason to rob your bank. You see where I’m going
with this, don’t you?”
“I think so.” I close my eyes. “You’re saying my dad would still be
alive if I hadn’t dated Brody.”
“That’s only half of it, sweetheart. I’m saying that if I hadn’t let my
stubbornness keep me away from you, you wouldn’t have felt the need to
date anyone else. Because you would’ve had my love from the beginning.”
I bury my face in his neck. I can only imagine the different paths my
life would have taken if I’d had Silas there to love and protect me from day
one. A guy like Brody never would’ve stood a chance against a love like
that. Whether or not Silas could have controlled himself and waited until I
was legally old enough, is another story. Knowing me, I wouldn’t have
made it easy for him to be patient.
I’d have done everything in my power to make him crack.
His mouth finds mine. I feel his hard cock rise between my legs as our
tongues mingle. I want so desperately for him to fuck me until I forget the
day’s events, but I have to know where we’ll stand once morning comes.
“So you forgive me?” I ask, breathless from the kiss.
“Sweetheart, you were forgiven before you even opened your mouth.”
He tucks a lock of damp hair behind my ear. “Now let’s get you into a warm
bed before the water gets cold.”
Silas helps me out of the tub and then dries me off. The hotel’s towels
are the big, plush kind that feel like a warm hug. I’m watching him dry my
toes when I feel the urge to tell him I love him. No matter how hard I fight
to keep it inside, or how scared I am that it won’t be requited, I can’t hold
back the truth another second.
“I love you, Silas.”
His hands still. He looks at me with heat and wonder blazing in his
eyes. “I love you too, baby girl. It’s only been a week, but I don’t fucking
care. I have to spend the rest of my life inside you.”
My heart expands inside my ribcage. I’m ready for his arms when he
reaches for me, know exactly what to do with my legs when he lifts me up.
His mouth claims mine in a kiss that makes me forget everything outside
this hotel room. His cock slaps my ass as he carries me to bed.
 As soon as my back hits the comforter, he’s thrusting his cock inside
me. I moan as my muscles stretch to take him, whimper as he starts to fuck
me. Tonight, I need it rough and furious. I need him to fuck me so hard that
I bruise. When I sit down to breakfast tomorrow, I need to remember how it
felt to be completely overwhelmed by him.
I want there to be no doubt who I belong to.
Silas licks his thumb and reaches between us to massage my clit. The
combination of his gentle stroking, plus the hard, unrelenting pounding he’s
giving my cunt, has my entire body revving like a juiced-up engine. He lifts
my legs to rest them on his shoulders and thrusts deep. I moan.
“Play with your pussy,” he rasps. “Show me how you make yourself
come.”
My eyes widen. He can’t seriously be asking me to do that in front of
him...
“No more secrets, little girl,” he growls. “Eventually Daddy’s gonna
see everything. This is just the start.”
I take a fortifying breath and inch my hand downward. Silas spreads
my knees. His gaze is locked on my pussy, on my shaky fingers circling my
clit.
“You’re so fucking beautiful, Norah. I want you to make yourself
come just like this.”
Panic pokes me like a safety pin that’s been left inside a new dress.
“But...what if I can’t do it while you’re watching?”
“If you want Daddy’s cum, you have to give him yours.” He glides
most of the way out of me and then thrusts back in. “I know you can do it,
baby. There’s no need to hide from me anymore.”
I do my best to concentrate on how good it feels to have his cock
inside me, how hot he looks standing over me, hair damp from the bath and
muscles bulging. I’ve never been this open, this honest, this completely
myself in front of anyone. But I want to be this way for Silas. He knows the
worst of what I’ve done, and he still loves me. There’s nothing left to be
afraid of.
“Fuck me hard,” I tell him. “I need you to fuck me harder.”
“Whatever you need, baby.” He pounds into me with greater force, as I
rub small circles over my clit. It feels so good, so right, so perfect. Pleasure
stacking like a deck of cards.
This is what you do to me, Daddy. This is how badly I want you.
 I can tell he’s working hard to hold back his own orgasm by how veiny
his arms are. He looks feral, like an animal in heat. My Daddy is the most
handsome, rugged man I’ve ever met. Wild, yet controlled. And now he’s
got me on my back, exactly where he wants me. He’s taken such good care
of me this past week.
The least that I can do is what I’m told.
I rub my clit faster and harder, until I feel the pleasure surge. The
hunger in Silas’s eyes goads me on, coupled with his words. “That’s it,
baby. Let Daddy see you come...”
My pussy throbs as I come around Silas’s fat cock. I can practically
feel his gaze on my face, sense it roving over my body, taking it all in. He
growls as he slams into me, finally letting himself finish. Wet heat fills and
then leaks from me, trickling down my ass onto the comforter. Silas
must’ve been holding back longer than I thought.
“Watching you touch yourself was beautiful, Norah.” He drops onto
his elbows to kiss me. “Thank you for letting me watch. I know how hard
that was for you.”
“It was.” I smile. “I’m glad I did it, though.”
Silas strokes my cheek, then kisses me one last time before pulling out
of my pussy. He turns down the covers and tucks me into bed, then slides in
beside me.
I nestle into the crook of his arm. “How long do we have to stay here?”
“The sheriff said they’d only need the cabin for a few days.” He
pauses. “I still plan to give it back to you, you know.”
I shift so that I’m lying on top of him with my chin resting on my arm.
“Maybe you should keep it.”
He eyes me curiously. “You don’t want it?”
“No, I do. But...maybe we can share it.”
A smile pulls at his lips. “The easiest way to do that would be if we
were married. Then what’s mine would automatically be yours.”
I know it’s fast. I know it’s crazy. But I can’t suppress the excitement I
feel at the thought of being Silas’s wife. “That might be nice.”
He kisses the back of my hand. “You wouldn’t want to give it some
time? See if what works out here actually works in the real world?”
“Our world is real, Silas. And anyway, I don’t want to live in a world
without you in it.”
 He folds me in his arms. I sigh contentedly as he rubs my back,
soaking in his warmth.
“If you want to stay on the mountain, we’ll move into the cabin,” he
says. “If you want to live somewhere else and keep the cabin as a second
home, that’s fine too. You are my world now, Norah. It doesn’t matter
where we lay our heads. As long as we’re together, we’re home.”

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 Epilogue

Silas
Five years later.

The aroma of beef and onions fills the evening air, as the sun glides
behind the distant hills. We had some of the dead trees removed a few years
back to create a small yard around the cabin. One of the perks of fewer trees
has been stellar views of the sunset.
I flip the burgers and top them with cheese just as Norah emerges from
the kitchen, cradling our three-month-old daughter, Thalia, in her arms.
“Smells amazing,” she says. I kiss her forehead, then our daughter’s
forehead. “Do you want me to bring out the chips and dip?”
“Let’s eat inside. After last night’s rain, the mosquitoes have been
downright vicious.”
“I’ll set the dining table.” She gestures to our four-year-old son, Jack—
named after Norah’s father—sitting in the moss below his tree fort. “Make
sure he lets that poor creature go before he comes inside.”
“On it.” I whistle. “Jack, dinner time.”
He comes skipping onto the porch, holding the mason-jar terrarium I
made for him, complete with leaves, twigs and air holes. Today, he’s caught
himself a disgruntled looking toad.
“Your mom needs help setting the table,” I tell him. “But first, it’s time
to let this little guy go.”
“Can’t he sleep over?” Jack asks, frowning.
“Afraid not. He’s probably got a family of his own to get home to.”
Jack sighs and crouches by the edge of the porch. He unscrews the lid
and upturns the jar. The toad lands on his feet, then hops off into the bushes.
Jack stands up and waves.
“Bye!” he yells. At first, I think he’s waving goodbye to the toad. Then
I follow his line of sight to the tree fort.
 I’ve stopped pretending that I don’t see Norah’s father out here in the
woods. Our son sees him all the time. Sometimes they even play together.
I move the burgers to a plate, then cover the grill to burn off the
smaller bits stuck to the grate. Jack and I head inside, delivering the meat
just as Norah’s finishes opening the dips. Jack doles out the napkins and
forks, just like his mama taught him. By the time we sit down to eat, it’s
time for Norah to feed Thalia.
I hand feed my wife bits of her dinner so her food doesn’t get cold as
the baby suckles her breast. Watching the two of them converse in their own
special love language, I can’t help but smile. The night before our wedding,
Nora told me she didn’t think she’d ever have a life like this. A comfortable
mountain home, two beautiful kids, a loving husband who adores her.
It’s been my privilege to be able to give her the life she didn’t dare
dream of.
As for myself, I had no idea what the hell I was going to do after I left
the real estate business. Thankfully, it turns out my knack for fixing things
comes in handy pretty much everywhere. When the ski resort in Gatlinburg
posted a job advert for a General Maintenance Technician, I applied. A few
months later, I was promoted to Lead, with a hefty pay bump to match.
After the dinner dishes are washed, and the bedtime stories are read—
and read again—I kiss Jack goodnight in the loft and then head downstairs
to the bedroom. Norah’s already putting the baby to sleep in the bassinet. I
fold my arms around her from behind.
“How many times did he make you read that book?” she asks.
“Two and a half.” I gaze down at my sleeping daughter. She’s
beautiful, just like her mama. But judging by the size of her feet, I have a
feeling she’s going to be much taller.
Norah turns and hooks her arms around my neck. “Daddy looks tired.”
“Daddy’s had a long, hard day.” I kiss her. “And if mommy doesn’t
stop rubbing against him like that, he’s gonna have a long, hard something
else pretty soon.”
She bites her lip, and I know that means she’s craving some Daddy-
Norah time. I plant a kiss on her nose, then glide my hands down to squeeze
her ass.
“Is it time for Daddy to put his baby girl to bed?” I ask.
She nods eagerly. My cock is already hard as a rock as we crawl under
the covers. I spoon her, grinding my erection into the cleft of her ass.
 “What’s that, Daddy?” she whispers in the dark. No matter how old we
get, neither of us will ever tire of this filthy game.
“It’s a surprise for you, sweetheart. But we have to be quiet.”
She lifts her leg and I align my cock with her pussy from behind. She
gasps as I push inside her. Normally, I would play with her tits, but the last
time I did that, milk went everywhere and we had to change the sheets. I
play with her clit instead, rocking my hips, fucking her nice and slow.
Within minutes, her whole body starts to tremble. She whimpers. I
place my hand over her mouth.
“Shh, baby. We don’t want your mama to hear us.” I keep my pace
steady, knowing she wants me to go hard. But if she wants that, she’s going
to have to give me what I want first.
Reaching around, I find her hand between her legs.
“That’s it, baby.” I kiss her neck. “Play with your clit until you come.”
And she does, rubbing vigorously, as her pussy flutters around my shaft.
Finally, I roll on top of her and shove my cock in deep.
“Daddy loves his little girl,” I whisper at her ear. “No matter how
grown-up she gets.”
~
Want more from Margot Scott?

Some lines should never be crossed.

But sometimes the temptation is too good to resist…
 Mason Black was everything to me: my father, my provider, my
protector. But then one day, he vanished, leaving me lost and alone. I was
devastated.
Years later, just when I thought I had put the pieces of my life together,
my world splintered apart again. Everything I thought I knew about my
biological father and Mason’s role in my life? Turns out, it was all a lie.
Every. Last. Word.
Now Mason’s back. However, he offers no excuses, no explanations. He
just wants me to be what he claims I’ve always been: his little girl.
But the ache inside me won’t be denied. The longing I feel isn’t one of a
little girl who misses her father.
No. I need Mason to be more than just a father figure. More than a
loving protector.
I need him to be my Daddy.
Buy Pretty, Dark & Dirty or read it for free in Kindle Unlimited
~

There’s a daddy-sized void inside me,

and his boss is determined to fill it.

I flew from Cali to Sydney to visit my dad, only to find he couldn’t care
less about seeing me. My dad’s boss, on the other hand, hasn't been able to
stop undressing me with his eyes.
Brian Murdoch, CEO of the #1 banking firm in the country, is at least
twice my age and looks like sin dipped in Armani. I’d be crazy to get
involved with the billionaire who pays my dad’s salary. I already have one
rich man in my life whose promises aren’t worth anything.
But when my dad blows me off again, it’s Mr. Murdoch who offers to
take me out instead. Now he’s determined to be the only Daddy I’ll ever
need. At home, at the office, and in my bed.
Buy Down Under or read it for free in Kindle Unlimited

~
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 About Margot Scott

Margot Scott likes long nails and short, sexy reads, rainbow sprinkles
on vanilla ice cream, and rainy days spent in bed with her furbabies. When
she's not writing forbidden love stories about bearded older men, you can
find her browsing Pinterest for pictures of pink things.
~
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