Chapter 8
Eight
J ack
"It's just ice cream, Jack. Not a firing squad."
Delaney's voice floats up from beside me, almost childlike in its lightness. Her hand—Christ, so fucking tiny—disappears completely in my grip, her delicate bones fragile enough to snap if I'm not careful.
We're walking down Wildfire’s main street, and I can feel every pair of eyes on us. It’s like they know.
You fucked that little girl rotten, you filthy old man.
She’s still filthy with me. Sore and red and walking with a slight trepidation.
But she looked at me like I’d just given her a lifetime pass to the amusement park. Her legs wide, ‘more, more,’ she’d rattled in that sex rough voice, calling me Daddy and giving me the keys to the fucking kingdom with that title.
Clearly, I’d do anything for this girl, because she dragged my ass not only off the mountain but into town. God, I fucking hate town. Small towns aren’t the fodder for romance novels most think.
They’re incestuous and judgmental. Quirky, yes. But they’re full of people who seem to think we’re all one big found family and instead most of them are just a pain in the ass.
It started with a question over breakfast—"Is there anywhere to get ice cream around here?"—and suddenly I was making a list in my head of everything she needed. Clothes. Toiletries. All that female shit I've never had to think about before. Practical necessities. Because if she is staying—and she is fucking staying, even if I have to chain her to my bed—she can’t keep living out of that one pathetic backpack and my shirts that swallow her whole.
Two hours in Wildfire's only boutique, watching her eyes go wide as I told the saleswoman to give her one of everything. Panties. Bras. Jeans that actually fit her tiny waist. Sundresses because I want to flip up that hem and let my hands roam any fucking time I please.
Tampons and whatever the hell else she tried to whisper to the clerk until I growled that she didn't need to hide anything from me. The woman's eyebrows had nearly hit her hairline when I pulled out a roll of hundreds thick enough to choke a horse, but she was smart enough not to comment.
Nine bags sit in the back of my truck now. Nine bags of things that say she's not temporary. That she's mine to provide for.
The sundress she wore out of the store is the color of the mountain sky, barely covering the tops of those creamy thighs. She fought me as if her protests were going to stop me from giving her everything she needed to settle in next to me in this life.
“It's too much, Jack" and "I can’t pay you back" —until I growled in her ear that the money means nothing to me. What matters is marking her as mine with something other than the bruises my fingers leave on her hips when I'm buried inside her.
The plastic spoon in her ice cream cup scrapes against the bottom as she chases the last melting swirls of strawberry. Pink, like her nipples. Like her pussy when I've worked it raw with my mouth and fingers.
My jaw clenches as Bill Carson from the hardware store pauses mid-sweep to stare at her legs. His eyes are hungry, starved. I imagine my boot on his throat, pressing until cartilage pops. Maureen from the diner whispers something to her daughter behind the counter as we drift by, Delaney chirping on about how the ice caps pushed the granite down from Canada into Michigan. Their eyes track her movements, and I don’t like being on display.
"Your face is doing that thing again," she says, bumping her hip against my thigh.
"What thing?"
"That 'I'm calculating how many bodies I can bury before sundown' thing ." She tilts her face up, eyes sparkling with mischief. "It's hot, but maybe not for ice cream."
A laugh escapes me—rough, unpracticed. "Can't help it. Don't like people looking at what's mine."
Her cheeks pink at the word "mine," but she doesn't correct me. Doesn't pull away. Just squeezes my hand tighter. Progress.
We reach the truck, parked at the far end of the street where fewer eyes can linger. I open the passenger door, lifting her easily—Christ, she can't weigh more than a hundred pounds soaking wet—by the waist to set her on the seat. Her legs dangle, too short to reach the ground from my truck's height. The sight punches me in the gut, makes my cock twitch. She looks like a little doll I could break with one hand.
"Thank you for this," she says, suddenly serious, her hand on my chest stopping me from closing the door. "For coming to town. For the clothes. For everything."
I cover her hand with mine, feel her pulse jumping beneath my fingers. My palm swallows her hand completely. I could circle her wrist with my thumb and pinky, could span her entire waist with my hands. "You're my thing," I tell her, the words coming out like gravel. "Everything else adjusts around that."
The smile she gives me then—Christ. Bright enough to blind a man. That smile is my fucking church. Nothing has made me more at peace than seeing her light up. Not even my mountain.
As I round the truck to the driver's side, I catch Bill Carson still watching, only he’s licking his lips now and barely hiding the lust in his eyes. A red curtain drops over my vision. My hands curl into fists, tendons popping. I imagine the wet crunch his skull would make under my boot, the satisfying crack of his jaw when it splits. I stare him down until he looks away, pale and sweating. Message fucking received.
Mine. Eighteen and tight and wet and all fucking mine.
My phone buzzes as I pull away from the curb. Beau's name flashes on the screen. I almost ignore it, but Delaney reaches over, answering before I can stop her.
"It's for you," she says, handing me the phone with a smile that makes my chest ache.
"Yeah?" I cradle the phone between my shoulder and ear, one hand on the wheel, the other finding her knee.
"She's still there?" Beau's voice crackles through the speaker, loud enough for Delaney to hear. I see her body stiffen slightly beside me.
"Yeah, she's still here," I murmur, giving her thigh a reassuring squeeze.
“That’s a big fucking promise to keep, man. Don’t think your man Hart meant you’d be moving her in.”
"Of course I'm keeping my promise. That’s my duty to her father. Now, don’t be more of a dick, what do you want?”
I glance over as Beau rambles on about Sunday and celebrating mom’s birthday, but I catch the way her face pales at my words, the way her body pulls away from my touch like she's been burned. Fuck.
That’s my duty to her father.
Wrong thing to say. Wrong fucking way to say it.
I cut Beau off, palming the wheel along the winding mountain road. Her eyes are fixed on the scenery outside, body turned away from me now. I can read her body, not just when I’ve got my dick inside her or my mouth at the altar of her pussy.
Pine trees blur past, shadows dappling the road as afternoon sun filters through the branches. The tension between us is a living thing, breathing in the small space of the cab.
A bright flash of red cuts across the windshield—a cardinal darting across the road. I swerve instinctively, the truck lurching, gravel crunching beneath the tires as I correct. Delaney gasps, her hand flying to the door handle.
"Shit," I mutter, steadying the wheel. "Bird."
She nods but doesn't speak. A single tear tracks down her cheek—one she tries to brush away before I can see it.
"Talk to me," I bark, harsher than intended and not angry at her but at my own asshole self. "What's going on in that head?"
“Nothing.” She presses this barely-there smile on her lips, staring out the passenger window at the endless green and brown going by.
Enough of this bullshit.
I pull the truck off onto one of the many little trail roads that wind up the mountain. In a skid of gravel, I stop, killing the engine. The silence that follows is absolute—no cars, no people, just mountain sounds and her shallow breathing.
"Rule number three," I remind her, shifting to face her. "You tell me what's in your head. Always. No exceptions. Especially when I ask."
She laughs, the sound hollow and tense. "Even when it makes me sound pathetic?"
"Especially then." I reach for her, but she flinches away. The rejection hits like a physical blow. "Delaney. Look at me . I’m not fucking around. I can’t take care of you if I don’t know what’s going on, and listen, I’m a fucking man, I’m an idiot, okay? But I’m your idiot and I want to know everything, so don’t make me turn that ass red just to get you to talk. I’m your home, your safest place. Daddy. Say it however you want to say it."
She turns slowly, those eyes that haunt my dreams now rimmed with red.
“You’re guilty you weren’t there for my father. At the end. You told me you were sorry you weren’t there.”
“I am sorry about that. I’ll live with that. That has nothing, not one fucking thing to do with you being here with me. The way I want you. The things we do.”
She shrugs. Tough little brat but I’m tougher.
"You think I'm here out of guilt?" I ask, the question clearly expecting an answer so we can figure this out and move the fuck on.
She nods, fingers twisting in the hem of her new dress. "It makes sense. Why else would someone like you want someone like me? A favor to an old friend. A debt you're repaying."
"Someone like me?" The question comes out sharper than I intended.
"Mountain man. Ex-military. Built like a—" She gestures vaguely at my body, her eyes dropping to where my cock is already thickening against my zipper. "You could have anyone. Why would you want some broke teenager with daddy issues unless you promised him you'd look after me?" Her voice hardens, a brittle edge of defiance cutting through the hurt. "With a little kink thrown in for fun, I guess. Makes babysitting the obligation more interesting."
A growl rises in my throat, primal and possessive. My fingers wrap around her wrist, engulfing it completely, tugging until her palm rests against my chest. My heart hammers beneath her touch, a battering ram against my ribs.
"Feel that?" I say, holding her hand in place. "That's not guilt. That's not obligation. That's what you do to me, every fucking second since I pulled you from that river. Since I saw those nipples hard beneath your wet shirt and knew I'd die if I didn't taste them."
She blinks, confusion and hope warring in her expression.
"Let me make something real clear, Delaney Hart. I don't want you because of your dad. I want you because you're mine. Because you were always meant to be mine. I’ve run my life on instinct, it’s one of the only things I trust, and my instinct is spot on when it comes to you. To us. I’m not so sure about God and all that, but you were created for me. I’ve been sitting up on this mountain like an asshole for years, waiting but not knowing I was waiting, until there you fucking were, hanging like you were dropped down from heaven on a rope swing over my river. That’s a fucking sign right there, and it punched me right in the balls. I don’t ignore my instincts, that shit will get you killed."
She draws a shaky breath. I feel her pulse jump beneath my fingers where they circle her wrist. Feel her body leaning toward mine despite her doubts.
“That’s a lot.” She clears her throat, softening a bit.
“Yeah, it’s a fucking lot. A lot of fucking words. All at once. I haven’t said that many words all at once probably in my fucking life. So, I get it, you’re going to drive me fucking crazy, and sometimes you’re going to think I’m an idiot, because, yeah, sometimes I am. But we’re going to work it all out. You’re going to be a pain in the ass, and I’m going to fuck your ass. Turn it pink, kiss it, bite it and lick your little pucker hole like I know you like it. That’s my ass, and you don’t forget it.”
I lean in, my voice dropping to the register that makes her pupils dilate. “You’re on a roll there, Daddy.”
That name goes straight to my balls.
"I knew my name was gonna sound filthy coming out of your mouth that first time I saw you, and I didn't want it any other way."
I press a kiss beneath her ear, grateful when she doesn't pull away this time.
A cardinal lands on a branch beside the truck, bright red against the green. The same damn bird that made me swerve, I'm sure of it. It cocks its head, watching us with that beady black eye.
Mom used to say cardinals were visits from those who'd left us—that when you see one, it means someone you've lost is checking in. Normally I'd call that sentimental bullshit, but something about the way it perches there, makes the hair on my neck stand up.
Delaney shifts across the bench seat toward me, the last of the distance closing as she crawls into my lap, straddling me behind the wheel.
“That’s my girl.” I tuck her hair behind her ears, tugging on her lobes for a second. Her new dress rides up her thighs as she settles, barely covering the curve of her ass. I can feel her heat through my jeans, the damp patch already forming where she's pressed against me.
Eighteen and mine. Old and young. So fucking young. But my dick and my heart don’t care. Her small hands disappear into my beard, tugging.
"I'm sorry," she whispers. “This is a lot. I still look around and wonder if I’m hallucinating.”
"You’re not. So, we’re clear?" I ask, hands finding her hips, anchoring her to me. "No doubts about why I want you here?"
She nods, one hand falling down my chest, floating over my ribs then down until she’s toying with the chain that connects my wallet to my belt loop. I caught her eyeing it this morning while I was paying at the boutique, curiosity evident in her expression.
I shut her down when she asked to see my driver's license photo at the store. But my guess is she wants to see if I still have her picture in my wallet. The one my stupid brother brought up at the cabin.
“You want to see my driver’s license picture?”
"Maybe," she admits, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "I bet you look like an inmate."
Before I can react, her small hand is unsnapping the wallet from its chain with nimble fingers. She holds it up triumphantly.
"What's in here, I wonder?" she asks, voice light with mischief.
I freeze for a split second, thrown by her boldness. Then my blood heats as her intent registers.
"Delaney." My voice carries a warning she chooses to ignore. “A man’s wallet is sacred ground. Give it back.”
As fast as a cat, she’s popped open the door and scrambled off my lap onto the dirt road, waving the wallet in the air. Smiling.
Fuck, now what do I do?
"Come and get it, Daddy," she teases.
I'm out of the truck behind her, chasing that fucking smile that’s going to get me into trouble for the rest of my life. I know it already. But she's already running down the path that parallels the road, laughing over her shoulder.
"Don't you dare," I growl, but there's no real anger behind it. Just the thrill of the hunt awakening.
She wants to play? Fine. We'll play.
Tracking and chasing always lit me up in the service. But chasing her? Fucking inferno level heat knowing when I catch her teasing ass, I’m going to pound it.
She's quick, but I'm quicker. I let her think she's getting away, enjoying the sway of her hips as she runs, the flash of her bare legs and her ass in the afternoon sun. She glances back, sees me gaining, and squeals—a sound so girlish and free it makes my chest ache.
Twenty feet down the path, I’ve got her. One arm bands around her waist, easily sweeping her off her feet. She yelps, squirming and twisting, still clutching the wallet like it matters.
"Caught you," I growl into her ear, spinning her toward an old split-rail fence that marks the edge of the clearing, glancing over my shoulder to make sure we’re not in full view of the road. My cock is rock-hard against her ass, and I grind against her, letting her feel exactly what she does to me. "Now what should I do with a little thief?"
Her breath comes in excited pants, her back pressing against my chest as I walk her the last few steps to the fence.
"You’re going to give me back what’s mine," I say, plucking the wallet from her fingers and tossing it into the grass. My hand slides possessively up her throat, tilting her head back against my shoulder. "And maybe I'll take something else, too."
"Jack—" she starts, but I cut her off.
"What did you just call me?" I bite the tender spot where her neck meets her shoulder, just hard enough to make her gasp.
" Daddy ," she yelps, the word sending a surge of heat straight to my cock. "I'm sorry, Daddy."
"No, you're not." I laugh low against her skin. "But you will be."
In one fluid motion, I bend her forward over the top rail of the fence. My hand presses firmly between her shoulder blades, holding her down easily. She weighs nothing compared to me, a doll I could snap in half if I weren't so goddamn careful.
She gasps, hands gripping the weathered wood, ass perfectly positioned and waiting. I trace the curve of her spine, shoving the hem of the dress higher, marveling at how small she is beneath me, how completely I could cover her with my body.
"This what you wanted, baby girl? To see if I'd chase you down?" My finger hooks in the waistband of the pink panties I just bought her, tugging them down over the curve of her ass. "To see what happens when you play games with Daddy?"
She whimpers, pressing back against me. "Maybe."
I bring my palm down on her bare ass, the crack echoing across the clearing. Not hard enough to really hurt—just enough to sting, to remind her who's in charge. The red print of my hand blooms on her pale skin like a masterpiece.
"Maybe isn't good enough." Another smack, on the other cheek this time. "I need words, Delaney. Clear ones."
"Yes," she gasps, fingers digging into the fence rail. "I wanted you to chase me. Wanted this."
"Good girl," I praise, sliding my hand between her legs, finding her already wet. "So fucking wet for me. For Daddy."
She moans, pushing against my fingers. "Please."
I unzip my jeans, freeing myself with a hiss. My cock springs out, angry and ready, obscenely large against her tiny frame. The cool air is a shock against my overheated skin, but it's nothing compared to the searing heat as I align myself and push into her in one smooth thrust.
"Fuck," I groan, gripping her hips to hold her steady, lifting her onto her toes. My fingers meet around her waist. "You’re gonna be my little fuck toy, baby. Don’t expect gentle when you play with fire."
I feed her soaked little teasing cunt every thick inch in one violent thrust.
She cries out, her body clenching around me like she's trying to pull me deeper. Out here, in the open air, with nothing but trees as witnesses, I want rough and demanding. No softness. No beta bullshit.
“You hold on to the fence while Daddy takes what he needs, little girl. No crying now either, you get what you deserve.”
My hips slam against her ass, each thrust pumping every inch in and out.
The sound of skin slapping skin echoes through the trees. I reach between her legs, finding her swollen clit with my middle finger, circling it rough and fast.
"You like being fucked outdoors, don't you?" I growl, voice barely human. "Bent over like my own little slut. Eighteen and taking cock like you’re paid to do it."
"Yes," she gasps, air leaving her lungs in little bursts with every thrust, pushing back against me like she can't get enough. "Yes, Daddy."
I draw my hand back from her clit and land a hard smack on her hot little pussy. She jerks forward with a shocked cry that melts into a moan so deep I feel it vibrate around my cock, her tiny body clamping down on me like a vise.
"Fucking take it," I snarl, spanking her pussy again, then again, each slap punctuated by a deeper thrust. "Greedy little cunt, so fucking wet for me."
Her thighs tremble violently, her back arching impossibly as I alternate between rough circles on her clit and sharp slaps that make her whole-body clench. The noises she makes, Christ, so fucking beautiful.
"Daddy...” She’s close to sobbing now. Good. I like a little pain. A little punishment for a misbehaving brat. “I can't, oh God—"
Her words dissolve into a scream as she shatters. I smack her pussy hard, her release crashing through her, and she clamps down around me so hard I see fucking stars. She convulses, her body milking my cock like she was made for this, for me.
Her pleasure tips me over. I bury myself balls-deep with a roar, fingers digging into her hips hard enough to leave marks as I pump her full, tugging her body onto me, her feet dangling as she holds the fence for balance.
My balls heave, swinging down between my legs as they empty into her tight little girl baby maker.
I unload enough semen for ten men, marking her from the inside. Claiming what's mine with cum so deep no way it doesn’t root inside her. The thought of her belly swollen with my child makes me grind deeper, my cock pulsing with a second wave of release as her legs dangle, little feet kicking at the air.
“Ouch, Daddy! That’s too deep.”
“I’ll tell you when it’s too deep. Now, shush and take what you asked for.”
She hisses and wiggles, which only turns me on more. My own little fuck doll, twisting and grinding with these little yelps that only make her body pulse and tighten around me like a sex toy built just for me.
We stay like that for a long moment, my breath heaving in and out, her little chirping ‘ Ouchies, Daddy’ mixed with her moans.
It’s heaven. Fucking heaven. She’s a goddamn miracle, and I’m keeping her forever.
My lips find the nape of her neck, letting her feet touch back down to earth with a sigh, pressing a gentle kiss to her skin.
I can’t help myself as I pinch her skin in my teeth, the words tearing in a growl from deep in my core. “I fucking love you.”
She stills in my grip, hair a mess falling around her face as she turns. I gather those waves of red fire in my fist and uncover her face to see the only thing I need right now.
That fucking smile.
She doesn’t need to say it back. Not yet. It’s enough that she knows where I’m at. Who she is to me. Rough, soft, hard, mean, Daddy… I’ll be her everything, and if she gives me that smile? I’m a fucking king.
When I finally pull out, she whimpers, a flood of our combined pleasure running from her little opening. I turn her carefully, lifting her onto the fence rail so we're face to face, stabbing two fingers into her battered opening to hold my cum inside.
Her cheeks are flushed, eyes dazed with pleasure, the most beautiful fucking thing I've ever seen.
"There's something we need to clear up," I start as her pussy pulses around my thick fingers. Her eyes are wide but dilated, the sex rush still on her cheeks, hazing her vision I’m sure. "I don't ever want you hearing something and not asking me about it. Not running away in your head where I can't reach you."
She looks down, but I tilt her chin back up with my other hand.
"Look at me." I grip her chin hard, forcing her lips to pucker, her eyes to meet mine. "Whatever this is between us—" I give her a thrust with my fingers, making her gasp, "—isn't up for debate. But I need to be inside your head the same way I'm inside your body. Complete fucking access. All the time."
"Even the scary parts?" she whispers, her small hand clutching at my wrist. “The stupid, insecure, dumb, silly—"
“All of it." I brush my thumb across her lower lip, then replace it with my mouth, kissing her deep and hard before pulling back. "Daddy doesn't do misunderstandings, baby girl. You think something, you say it. Right then. I'll handle the rest. That's what being mine means."
She nods slowly. "I just thought… maybe I was just an obligation to you."
A growl rises in my throat before I can stop it. "Do I look like a man who does anything out of fucking obligation?"
A small smile curves her lips. "No."
"No," I agree, capturing her mouth in a deep kiss. When I pull back, I hold her gaze. "I protect what's mine. And you, Delaney Hart, have been mine since the second I pulled you from that river. Not because I promised your father. Because something in me recognized you—knew exactly where you belonged even before I slid inside you for the first time." I pump my fingers in and out, feeding my cum back up toward her womb. "Mine to breed. Mine to keep. Mine to fucking worship."
She settles her hands on my cheeks, buried in my beard, her forehead on my shoulder. She unfolds, softens.
"Let's go home," I murmur against her hair. “I’m going to take my fingers out of you, but you put yours in, understand? You hold all that good Daddy juice inside you until I say otherwise, clear?”
She nods as I withdraw my fingers, taking her hand and pushing her own inside her before lifting her into my arms, carrying her back down the path to the truck, her hand between her legs…smiling.