Chapter 15
Tanner
I woke up in my elephant pajamas, still wrapped around Simon like a koala bear.
The morning light filtered through the curtains, soft and golden, and for a moment I just lay there, listening to his heartbeat under my ear. Steady. Reliable. Everything I'd been searching for without knowing it.
"You awake, bud?" His voice rumbled through his chest, still rough with sleep.
"Mm-hmm." I didn't move, wasn't ready to give up this cocoon of warmth and safety.
His hand came up to stroke my hair. "We should probably get up. Breakfast is probably ready. We should get down there before it’s all gone."
"Five more minutes," I mumbled, burrowing closer.
He chuckled, the sound vibrating through me. "Alright. Five more minutes."
Those five minutes stretched into ten, neither of us willing to break the spell. My pulse thrummed low in my belly the longer I laid there.
I wanted to touch him.
Needed to.
I eased the sheet down, careful not to wake him too fast. Daddy had fallen back asleep deeper than I had. His boxer briefs were tented, morning wood straining against soft cotton, and the sight made my mouth water. I glanced up; his eyes were still closed, lashes dark against his cheeks. Perfect.
I shifted lower, settling between his thighs. The mattress dipped, and he stirred, a low sound rumbling in his chest.
“Tanner?” Sleep-rough, confused.
“Shh. It’s okay, just… let me take care of you.” My voice came out smaller than I meant, shy and hopeful.
His eyes cracked open, stormy even in the dim light. He took in the view—me on my knees between his legs, cheeks burning—and something soft and hungry flickered across his face.
“Bud,” he murmured, testing the word like it tasted good. My whole body lit up at the sound. “You don’t have to—”
“I want to.” I hooked my fingers in his waistband and tugged. He lifted his hips to help, and then he was bare, thick and heavy against his stomach. I swallowed hard. “Please, Daddy.”
The title hung in the air between us, teasing and electric. His breath hitched; his hand came up to cup my jaw, thumb brushing my lower lip.
“Yeah?” he asked, voice gravel and smoke. “You gonna be good for me?”
I nodded frantically, already leaning in. “So good.”
He guided me down gently, fingers threading through my hair—not pushing, just holding.
I licked a slow stripe up the underside of his cock, savoring the salt and heat, the way he twitched against my tongue.
When I wrapped my lips around the head and sank lower, he groaned, hips flexing just enough to nudge the back of my throat.
“Fuck, that’s it,” he rasped. “Take what you need, baby.”
I did. I took him deeper, hollowing my cheeks, letting him feel every eager swirl of my tongue.
His grip tightened in my hair, guiding now, setting a lazy rhythm that had my cock aching against the mattress.
I loved this—loved being on my knees for him, loved the way his thighs tensed under my palms, the broken little sounds he couldn’t hold back.
“Look at me,” he ordered, voice strained.
I glanced up through my lashes. His dark eyes were fixed on me like I was the only thing in the world. The weight of that gaze sent a shiver down my spine.
“Such a pretty mouth,” he said, thumb tracing where my lips stretched around him. “My good boy.”
The praise hit me like a drug. I moaned around him, taking him to the root, nose pressed to the trimmed hair at his base. He cursed under his breath, hips stuttering.
“Close,” he warned, fingers tightening. “Tanner—”
I didn’t pull off. I wanted it—wanted all of him. I sucked harder, humming, and he came with a low, wrecked groan, pulsing hot and thick across my tongue. I swallowed every drop, greedy, until he tugged me up by the hair and crushed our mouths together.
He kissed me filthy and slow, tasting himself on my tongue, licking into my mouth like he couldn’t get enough. When he finally pulled back, we were both breathing hard.
“Jesus, bud,” he muttered against my lips, forehead pressed to mine. “You trying to kill me?”
I laughed, shaky and dazed. “No, Daddy. I wanna keep you around.”
We laid there for a few minutes, our breaths heavy as our heart rates returned to normal. Eventually, Daddy broke the silence. "Time to get up. We need to get you fed, bud."
I reluctantly changed out of my pajamas, already looking forward to putting them back on tonight. They’d need to be washed though, considering how I came all over myself after Daddy let loose in my throat.
As I pulled on jeans and a flannel—one of the ones Daddy had bought for me—I caught sight of myself in the mirror.
I looked different. Lighter, like Sean had said days ago. The dark circles under my eyes were nowhere to be found. My face wasn't as drawn. Even my posture seemed more relaxed.
This place was healing me.
Daddy was healing me.
Downstairs, we found the kitchen already bustling. Harlan was at the stove, and several of the guys were scattered around, grabbing coffee and breakfast.
"Morning," Elton called out when he saw us. He was leaning against the counter, coffee mug in hand. "Tanner, you got plans today?"
I looked at Simon, uncertain. Did I have plans?
"What did you have in mind?" Daddy asked, his hand settling on the small of my back.
"Could use an extra set of hands in the storage barn. We're reorganizing supplies, and it's a two-person job at minimum." Elton looked at me hopefully. "Unless you're busy?"
"I can help," I said, then glanced at Daddy again. "If that's okay?"
His expression softened. "You don't need my permission to help out, bud. But yeah, that's fine. Just make sure you take breaks and stay warm."
"I will." I felt a flutter of warmth at his concern. It was still new, having someone care about my well-being like this.
After breakfast, I bundled up and followed Elton out to the storage barn. The building was large and drafty, filled with everything from tools to animal feed to equipment that only got used seasonally.
"Basically, we need to sort through all this and figure out what we're keeping, what needs repairs, and what should probably just get tossed," Elton explained as we stood in the doorway surveying the chaos. "Atticus wants it done before Christmas so we can start the new year organized."
"Makes sense." I rolled up my sleeves. "Where do we start?"
We fell into an easy rhythm, working through sections of the barn methodically. Elton was good company—funny without being overbearing, and he didn't pry into my personal life the way I'd worried some people might.
"So you and Simon," he said after about an hour, his tone casual as he lifted a box of old tack. "That's good. He's been alone too long."
"Yeah?" I tried to keep my voice equally casual, even though my heart rate picked up at the mention of Simon.
"Yeah. He's a good man. One of the best." Elton set the box down and turned to face me. "He lost someone, you know. His husband. It was rough on him."
I nodded slowly. "He told me a little bit about it."
"Then you know he doesn't open up easily. The fact that he's opened up to you…" Elton smiled. "That means something."
"It means something to me too," I said quietly.
"Good." He clapped me on the shoulder. "That's all I wanted to hear. Now come on, these boxes aren't going to move themselves."
We worked for a while before Simon appeared in the doorway, his expression stern.
"Break time," he announced, and there was no room for argument in his voice.
I straightened up from where I'd been sorting through a box of tools, wiping sweat from my forehead despite the cold. "We're almost done with this section—"
"Break. Time." He crossed his arms. "You've been out here for three hours without stopping."
Had it really been that long? I glanced at Elton, who was grinning.
"Don't look at me," Elton said. "I'm not arguing with him when he gets that Daddy tone going."
I felt my face flush, but Simon just raised an eyebrow. "Inside. Both of you. Harlan's got lunch ready."
We obeyed, because honestly, who could resist that voice?
Inside, I washed up and joined everyone at the long table. Simon made sure I had a full plate, adding extra servings when he thought I wasn't looking.
"I can feed myself," I pointed out, amused.
"I know you can. Doesn't mean you will." He sat down beside me, close enough that our thighs pressed together. "Eat."
I ate, hyperaware of his presence beside me. Every so often, his hand would drop to my knee under the table, a brief touch that sent warmth flooding through me.
After lunch, Elton and I finished up in the storage barn. By the time we were done, everything was organized and labeled, and I felt a sense of accomplishment I hadn't experienced in weeks.
"Thanks for the help," Elton said as we headed back to the main house. "Made it go way faster."
"Happy to help." And I meant it. There was something satisfying about physical labor, about seeing immediate results from your efforts.
Back in my room, I found another package on the bed.
My heart leapt. Another gift from my Secret Santa.
I unwrapped it carefully, already smiling before I even saw what it was.
Art supplies.
Not just any art supplies—the good kind. Professional-grade colored pencils in every shade imaginable. Markers with fine tips and bold colors. A large sketchpad with thick, high-quality paper. And underneath it all, several new coloring books with intricate, beautiful designs.
My throat tightened as I ran my fingers over the smooth wood of the pencils. The coloring books Simon had found at my apartment were still untouched because I'd never given myself permission to use them. I'd bought them on impulse, then felt guilty for spending money on something so frivolous.
But these were a gift. Which meant someone wanted me to use them.
There was a note tucked into the sketchpad: