Chapter 13
CHAPTER
THIRTEEN
Tanner
Movie night had been exactly what I needed.
We’d all piled into the living room—me and Simon, Griffin and Harlan, Ashley and Cory, Elton and Bobby Allen, Beau and Jackson, even Sean and Atticus had joined for a while before disappearing upstairs.
The movie was some action thing that I barely paid attention to, too focused on the way Simon’s arm felt around my shoulders, the way his thumb traced idle patterns on my upper arm.
When it ended, everyone started dispersing to their various rooms and cabins. Simon stood and offered me his hand, pulling me to my feet.
“Ready for bed, bud?” he asked.
I nodded, exhaustion pulling at me. It had been another full day—good, but full.
Upstairs, I went through my nighttime routine in the bathroom, marveling again at seeing my own products on the counter. Simon had brought everything, which made this place feel like home in a way my place rarely ever did.
When I came out, he was already in bed, propped against the headboard with a book in his lap. He’d changed into sleep pants and nothing else, and I had to force myself not to stare at his bare chest.
“Come here,” he said, setting the book aside and patting the space next to him.
I climbed in beside him, and he immediately pulled me close, arranging me against his chest like I belonged there. Which I guess I did now.
“Thank you for today,” I murmured. “For the room, for the ride, for everything.”
“You don’t have to thank me every time I do something for you,” he said gently. “Taking care of you is what I want to do.”
“I know, but I still want to say it.” I tilted my head to look up at him. “No one’s ever done things like this for me before.”
His expression softened. “Then they were all fools.”
I yawned, exhaustion weighing me down now that I was still in the comfort of his arms. While I’d definitely wanted to break in the room like we’d said, I could tell my eyes wouldn’t stay open long enough to do so.
And while the idea of sleepy sex was great, I wanted to be fully present when he slid inside me.
“Someone’s sleepy, huh?” he asked.
“A little—” My words were interrupted by yet another big yawn.
There was a short burst of laughter, and then he said, “Seems like you need sleep more than anything. We have plenty of time for other activities.”
He reached over and turned off the lamp, plunging us into darkness. I snuggled closer, breathing in his scent, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest.
While part of me wanted to whine at the loss of connection with him, the rest of me was too tired to fight it. Besides, I got to be close to him either way. It was a win all around.
“Goodnight, bud,” he whispered.
“Goodnight, Daddy.”
The word still felt new on my tongue, but every time I said it, it felt more right.
The next morning, I woke up to find Simon already gone. Again. But this time, instead of a note on the nightstand, there was a small, wrapped package.
I sat up, rubbing sleep from my eyes as I reached for it. The wrapping was simple brown paper tied with twine, just like the others had been.
My heart rate picked up as I carefully unwrapped it.
Inside was a journal—leather-bound and beautiful, with my initials embossed on the cover. I ran my fingers over the letters, then opened it to find the first page filled with my Secret Santa’s handwriting.
For all the thoughts you keep inside. You don’t have to share them with anyone, but sometimes it helps to get them out of your head and onto paper. This is your space to be honest, to be messy, to be anything you need to be.
My vision blurred with tears. How did he keep doing this? How did he keep knowing exactly what I needed?
I’d always been someone who processed things internally, turning them over and over in my mind until they either made sense or drove me crazy. The idea of having a place to put those thoughts somewhere private and safe—it was perfect.
I clutched the journal to my chest and took a shaky breath.
Then another. I needed to figure out who this was.
Needed to thank him, even though I didn’t have to.
It felt like I should know who it is by now.
Like the answer would be easy to navigate.
Except my brain had decided to take a vacation as well this week.
I couldn’t seem to put the pieces together no matter how much I wanted to.
I got dressed quickly, not bothering with a shower, and headed downstairs. The house was quiet. It was still early, barely seven according to the clock on the wall.
In the kitchen, I found Harlan starting breakfast prep.
“Morning,” he said without turning around. “Coffee’s fresh.”
“Thanks. Have you seen Simon?”
“Barn. Said something about checking on the tack.” Harlan glanced at me over his shoulder, a knowing look in his eyes. “That from your Secret Santa?”
I nodded, holding up the journal.
“Thought so. You had that look.”
“What look?”
“The one Sean gets every time Atticus does something particularly Daddy-ish.” He turned back to his cutting board. “Go on. Go find your man.”
I grabbed a travel mug of coffee and headed out, not even bothering with my coat despite the cold. I needed to see Daddy to show him this new gift.
The barn was warm compared to outside, heated by the body warmth of the animals and the insulation. I could hear movement from the tack room—the clink of metal, the rustle of leather.
“Simon?” I called as I approached.
“Back here, bud.”
I found him organizing bridles, methodically checking each one for wear and tear. He looked up when I entered, a smile spreading across his face.
“Morning. Sorry I didn’t leave a note—”
I didn’t let him finish. I set down the journal and my coffee and crossed the space between us in three quick steps, grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him down to me.
The kiss was harder than the one yesterday, more desperate. I poured everything I was feeling into it—happiness and desire and something bigger that I wasn’t ready to name yet.
He made a surprised sound against my mouth but recovered quickly, his hands coming up to cup my face as he kissed me back with equal intensity.
When we finally broke apart, we were both breathing hard.
“Not that I’m complaining,” he said, his voice rough, “but what was that for?”
“I got another gift this morning, and I missed you when I woke up and you were gone.” I kept my hands fisted in his shirt, not ready to let go.
I couldn’t find the words to explain myself more, so I kissed him again instead.
This time when we pulled apart, his eyes had gone dark, pupils blown wide.
“Tanner,” he said, and there was a warning in his voice. “You need to tell me right now if you want to stop, because if you keep kissing me like that—”
“I don’t want to stop.” The words came out breathless but certain. “Please, Daddy. I want—I need—”
He groaned and backed me against the wall, caging me in with his arms. “What do you need, sweet boy? Use your words.”
“You.” It came out almost as a whimper. “I need you to touch me.”
“I am touching you.”
“More.” I squirmed against the wall, my body already responding to just his proximity. “Please.”
His hand came up to cup my jaw, tilting my head so I had to meet his eyes. “We need to talk more before we do this. About what you like, what your limits are—”
“I don’t care about that right now. I know you won’t hurt me.” I reached down and pressed my palm against the front of his jeans, feeling how hard he already was. “You want this too. I can feel it.”
He hissed out a breath. “That’s not the point. The point is—fuck, Tanner.”
I’d started rubbing him through the denim, watching his face as his control wavered.
“The point is,” he tried again, his voice strained, “that I’m supposed to be taking care of you. Making sure you’re ready for—”
“I’m ready.” I pressed closer, eliminating any space between us. “I’ve been ready since you first called me ‘bud.’ Since you made me breakfast. Since you held me while I cried. I’m ready, Simon. Please.”
Something in him snapped.
His mouth crashed back onto mine, and this kiss was different—hungrier, more insistent. His tongue swept into my mouth, and I opened for him eagerly, making small sounds that I’d be embarrassed about later.
His hands were everywhere—pulling at my sleep shirt, groping my ass, and angling my head so he could dive deeper into my mouth. Each touch only made me want him more.
“Tell me if anything is too much,” he said against my mouth. “Tell me, and I’ll stop.”
“Don’t stop, Daddy!” I gasped. “Please!”
He kept me trapped against the wall, my body flush against him. One of his thighs slipped between my legs, and I ground down against it instinctively, seeking friction.
“That’s it,” he encouraged. “Take what you need, bud.”
I buried my face in his neck as I moved against him, feeling the firm muscle of his thigh through my jeans. His hands guided my hips, helping me find a rhythm.
“So good,” he murmured. “Such a good boy for me.”
The praise made me moan, made me move faster. I could feel the hard length of him pressed against my hip, and I reached down to palm him through his jeans again.
He groaned, his head falling back. “Fuck, Tanner.”
“Can I?” I asked, fingers finding his zipper. “Please, can I touch you?”
“Yeah, bud. Yeah, you can touch me.”
I fumbled with his zipper, my coordination shot from arousal and need. He helped me, pushing his jeans and boxers down just enough to free himself.
The first time I wrapped my hand around him, we both gasped. He was hot and hard and perfect in my palm.
“Show me,” I whispered. “Show me how you like it.”
His hand covered mine, guiding my grip and setting a rhythm. “Like this. Just like—fuck, yes, just like that.”
I watched his face as I stroked him, watched the way his jaw clenched, and his breathing went ragged. His eyes were locked on mine, dark and intense.
“Your turn,” he said, voice rough. His free hand went to my jeans, flipping open the button. “Can I?”
“Yes.” I was already nodding frantically. “Yes, please, Daddy.”
He worked my jeans open and slipped his hand inside, wrapping around me with confident strokes. The sensation made my knees buckle. Thank goodness I was leaning against the wall or I wouldn’t have been able to keep myself upright.
“I’ve got you,” he assured me. “I’ve got you, bud.”
We found a rhythm together, hands moving in tandem. I tried to focus on making him feel good, on learning what made him moan and curse, but it was hard to concentrate when his hand was working magic on me.
“Look at me,” he commanded, and my eyes snapped to his. “That’s it. Want to see your face when you come.”
“Simon,” I gasped. “Daddy, I’m—I’m close.”
“I know, bud. I can feel it.” His hand sped up slightly, his thumb swiping over the tip. “Let go. Let me see you.”
The combination of his touch and his words pushed me over the edge. I came with a choked cry, burying my face in his shoulder as pleasure crashed through me in waves.
“So beautiful,” he murmured, working me through it. “So perfect for me.”
When I could breathe again, I realized I’d stopped moving my hand. I looked up at him apologetically.
“Sorry, I—”
“Don’t apologize.” He kissed me softly. “But you think you can finish what you started?”
I nodded and renewed my efforts, watching his face intently. It didn’t take long—he was already close, his body tense and his breathing harsh.
“Tanner,” he warned. “I’m gonna—”
“Do it,” I encouraged. “Want to see you, Daddy. Please.”
That did it. He came with a groan, his hand tightening on my hip hard enough to bruise as he spilled over my fingers.
We stayed like that for a long moment, both of us trying to catch our breath. Then Simon pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and gently cleaned us both up.
“Come here,” he said, pulling me close and tucking my head under his chin. “You okay?”
“More than okay,” I said honestly. My whole body felt loose and satisfied in a way it hadn’t in longer than I could remember.
“Good.” He pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “That wasn’t how I planned our first time to go.”
“I liked it,” I said. “It felt real. Not choreographed or perfect, just… us.”
“Yeah.” I felt him smile against my hair. “Yeah, it was us.”
We stayed wrapped up in each other until the sound of voices outside reminded us that we were in the barn, where anyone could walk in at any moment.
“We should probably get back,” Simon said reluctantly. “Before someone comes looking.”
I nodded but didn’t immediately move. “Daddy?”
“Yeah, bud?”
“Thank you. For taking care of me.”
He pulled back so he could see my face. “You’re welcome. But Tanner? You don’t have to thank me with… this.” He gestured vaguely at where we’d just been.
“I know.” I felt my cheeks heat. “That’s not what this was. I just—I’ve wanted to touch you for a while now.”
His expression softened. “In that case, you’re welcome to touch me anytime you want.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He kissed me again, slow and sweet this time. “Come on. Let’s go get some breakfast before they send out a search party.”
We straightened our clothes, and I grabbed the journal and my now-cold coffee. As we walked back to the house, Daddy’s arm around my shoulders, I felt lighter than I had in years.
I had someone who saw me. Who cared for me. Who wanted me, not despite my needs but because of them.
And for the first time in my life, I was learning that it was okay to want things for myself. That asking for what I needed didn’t make me weak or selfish.
It just made me human.
And more importantly, it made me his.