Chapter Five
Charlie
I wake to sunlight spilling through the thin curtains of the bedroom, warming my skin, wrapping me in a hazy glow. For a moment, I just lie there, staring at the ceiling, replaying everything that happened last night.
Jack’s mouth and hands on my skin, branding me. The way his voice goes rough when he calls me princess, and the way his eyes darken every time I call him Daddy.
Heat floods my cheeks, but I don’t care. For the first time in my life, I don’t feel like the senator’s daughter, the overprotected girl who lives in a cage of marble walls and armed bodyguards. I feel like a woman. His woman.
Stretching, I realize the space beside me is empty. A flicker of disappointment pricks at me, but then I catch movement out of the corner of my eye.
I slide off the bed, padding barefoot to the window, and the sight that greets me feels almost like a punch to the gut.
Jack is outside. Shirtless.
My throat goes dry.
His body is a map of strength—hard, corded muscle shifting under sun-kissed skin, scars carved across his chest and arms like proof of the battles he’s fought and survived.
His back flexes as he moves, broad and powerful, sweat glistening along the ridges of muscle.
He looks like he’s working out—or more like training.
Every movement of his body is sharp, disciplined, controlled.
He drops low into push-ups, his body a line of power. Then he shifts into planks, then a series of brutal kicks and strikes, like he’s fighting invisible enemies. His jaw is hard, focused, his eyes narrowed on nothing and everything at once.
For the life of me, I can’t look away.
My thighs squeeze together involuntarily as my stomach flips.
I shouldn’t be spying on him like this, but God, I can’t help it.
Watching him is like watching raw masculinity in motion, every muscle a reminder of the danger he’s capable of…
and the way he held me last night, careful but possessive, like he owned every inch of me.
Before I even realize what I’m doing, I grab my camera from the nightstand.
At some point last night, before we fell asleep, Jack admitted that he had already gathered my things from the hotel, even before following me to the club.
He said he’d had a feeling we wouldn’t have time to go back for them.
And even though it’s just another example of my father’s overprotectiveness and paranoia, and that fact that Jack has been stalking me for days, I find myself grateful for it now. The familiar weight of my camera in my hands steadies me, grounds me, even as my pulse pounds in my ears.
I lift it, aim through the glass, and start to shoot.
Click! The shutter captures the curve of his shoulders, the flex of his arms.
Click! The beads of sweat rolling down his spine as he drives his fists through the air.
Click! The focus in his eyes, cold and sharp, a man who looks like he was born for war.
Through my lens, I see more than the soldier. I see the man. The man who carried me to bed. The man who kissed me like he wanted to consume me. The man who calls me princess in a voice that makes my body shiver.
The man who might just ruin me completely.
I lower the camera slowly, my hands trembling. My chest rises and falls too quickly, like I’ve just run a marathon.
And still…I can’t stop staring.
When I finally drag myself away, I slip back toward the bed where Jack’s shirt lies draped across the rumpled sheets. I lift it, pressing it to my face for just a second, breathing in his familiar scent, masculine and oddly calming. It makes my stomach flip.
I smile faintly and tug the shirt over my head. The fabric swallows me, the hem brushing the tops of my thighs. It smells like him. Feels like him. I shiver, my stomach tightening with anticipation, and an idea pops into my head.
I turn away from the window with a small giddy laugh and pad barefoot to the door, careful not to make a sound as I tiptoe outside. The morning air is cool against my legs, and the sound of his movements fills the clearing.
He’s still focused, throwing another hard strike into the air, his muscles bunching and flexing. He doesn’t notice me. Or at least, I think he doesn’t.
Suppressing a giggle, I crouch low, inching toward him, my pulse racing with childish giddiness. If I can surprise him, then—
Suddenly, I yelp as my world flips. In a blink, my back hits the ground, the breath rushing from my lungs, and Jack is hovering over me, pinning my wrists to the grass.
“Thought you could sneak up on me, princess?” he asks, his lips spreading in a sinful smirk.
I laugh breathlessly, wriggling under him. “I almost had you!”
“Almost doesn’t count.” He leans closer, his hair falling slightly over his forehead, sweat glistening on his temple. The sight should be intimidating, but instead it makes heat curl low in my belly.
“You’re impossible,” I mutter, still squirming.
“And you’re reckless,” he counters smoothly, lowering his face until his lips graze my ear. “But cute as hell when you try.”
My cheeks flame, but laughter bubbles out of me again. I twist, managing to push one of his shoulders weakly. He doesn’t budge, of course. He’s solid, immovable.
“You’re too heavy,” I complain, but my grin betrays me.
He huffs a laugh, then suddenly dips his head to steal a kiss. It’s quick at first, teasing, but when I gasp, his tongue slides against mine, and he deepens the kiss. My stomach tightens, heat spreading all over my body.
When he finally pulls back, I’m panting, my lips tingling.
“See?” he murmurs, brushing a thumb along my jaw. “You can’t win against me. You’re mine.”
The words, his voice…it all feels so raw and possessive, sending a shiver racing through me. “Yours,” I echo softly, almost without thinking.
For a while, we just lie there in the grass, him above me, the sunlight filtering through the trees. Then slowly, he rolls to the side, tugging me with him until I’m curled against his chest, my head rising and falling with his breaths.
“You always train like that?” I ask after a moment, my fingers absently tracing the scars across his chest.
His jaw tightens under my touch, but his voice stays even. “Every morning. Old habits die hard.”
“Military habits?”
He nods once, his eyes distant for a beat. “Navy SEAL. Eight years.”
I whistle softly. “That explains why I ended up on my back in two seconds.”
He smirks faintly, but there’s a heaviness in his gaze now. “It explains more than that.”
I wait, letting him decide if he wants to share.
Finally, he says, “You see these scars, princess? Each one’s a reminder. Places I’ve been. People I couldn’t save. I train because…stopping means thinking. And thinking means remembering.”
My chest tightens. I reach for his hand, squeezing gently. “You saved me.”
His eyes meet mine, sharp blue softening just slightly. “That doesn’t erase the others.”
I swallow hard, searching for something to say, but words feel small. Instead, I lift his hand, pressing my lips to the back of it softly. “Maybe you don’t have to erase them. Maybe you just…start adding new memories. Better ones.”
Something flickers in his expression, surprise maybe, or something deeper he doesn’t want to reveal.
“Christ,” he mutters, cupping my cheek, dragging me closer until his lips brush mine again. “You’ll ruin me, princess.”
“Well, you ruined me first, so it’s only fair,” I tease, but my voice comes out soft, trembling.
His grip tightens, his thumb brushing over my lower lip. “Careful. You play that game with Daddy, and you won’t walk straight for a week.”
A shiver rockets through me at the way he says it, dark, promising, full of heat. I bite my lip, meeting his gaze with a spark of boldness I didn’t know I had.
“Maybe I wouldn’t mind,” I whisper.
His groan rumbles against my chest as his mouth crashes down on mine again, our laughter fading into breathless kisses.
He reaches between my legs, his fingers delving into my heat. He growls low in his throat when he realizes I don’t have panties on. The roughened pads of his fingers stroke over my clit and circle my opening before plunging inside.
With my lips pressed to his, I moan, my hips circling.
He fingers me leisurely, fanning the fire in my core.
Then his kiss gentles into a slow, deep fucking of my mouth.
He cups me in his hand, his long middle finger sliding lazily in and out of me, his palm rubbing against my clit.
I gasp, my body clamming up from an overload of pleasure.
His other hand grips my hip, holding me in place, restraining me.
Jack’s control seems absolute, his seduction wickedly precise, but he’s heaving with a force that suggests the depth of his desire.
I pull back and slide my hand into his pants, reaching for his cock.
“Fuck, princess,” he growls as I start to stroke him. His hips buck involuntarily even as his finger curves inside me. I feel thick drops of precum roll down my fingers to my fist.
“Charlie,” he pants. “Fuck.”
I stroke him again, my mouth watering as I watch him, wildly aroused by his pleasure and the knowledge that I have such a profound effect on such a blatantly sexual creature.
He lets out a gruff curse, his fingers leaving me as he grabs my hips, dislodging my grip on him. Then he yanks his pants down, driving his hard length into me.
I cry out, sinking my teeth into his shoulders as my sex clenches violently around the pulsing cock. His jaw and neck are taut with strain as he starts to come, spurting hot and hard inside me. Filling me.
My nails dig into the hard muscles of his back, my mouth opening to draw in desperate breaths of air.
“Take it,” he bites out, pushing harder and deeper inside of me. “Take me, princess.”
“Yes, Daddy,” I moan, welcoming the soreness of having him so deep. The orgasm takes me by surprise, my hips bucking as heated pleasure tears through me.
Instinct takes over, my hips moving of their own volition, my thighs clenching and releasing as I focus only on this moment…this man.
“That’s it, princess,” he encourages hoarsely, still hard inside me as if he didn’t just have a teeth-grinding climax.
His reaches down, his fingers wrapping around my throat. He squeezes gently, burying himself even deeper inside of me. He doesn’t pull back this time. Instead, he starts to grind, rolling his hips in a way that drives me over the edge.
I close my eyes, giving myself up to the pleasure rocketing through my body in waves. I moan his name, alternating breathlessly between Jack and Daddy.
My walls clench around him rhythmically, another orgasm rushing up quickly. I falter, my senses overwhelmed. “Please,” I gasp. “Jack, please.”
He adjusts his weight, then raises my legs, throwing them over his shoulders. Then he grabs the back of my knees, holding me in place as he thrusts deeply into me, over and over…shafting my sex with fast, powerful thrusts.
“Call me Daddy,” he commands. “Say it!”
“D-daddy,” I moan breathlessly.
The friction of his thick cock within me becomes too much. I jolt violently, coming yet again, my fingers digging into the grass.
Shuddering, Jack follows me over, his arms tightening around me until I can barely breathe. I feel utterly possessed, completely defenseless.
“God, princess.” He buries his face in my throat. “I need you. I need you so much…”