2. Heath
HEATH
The box is warm in my hand, like it's been sitting in the sun. I don't open it. Not yet.
Relief hits first, sharp, clean, like a blade pulled from my ribs. She's not pregnant. Thank fuck. The thought of some punk kid touching her, knocking her up, had my blood boiling before I even knew what the hell was going on.
But why does the thought of some faceless bastard's hands on her make my jaw clench like I'm chewing glass?
She's already an adult, twenty-one years old. Old enough to vote, drink, sign her own damn name on a lease. Old enough to fuck whoever she wants, whenever she wants.
And I'm not her father. Never have been.
Maybe that's why I can't stop looking at her.
It's wrong. She's my stepdaughter. But I can't help it.
There's just something about Hallie Pierce.
Her cascading midnight black hair spills over her shoulders like ink on silk, so dark it drinks the light.
I've watched it catch the sun through the kitchen window, watched it sway when she moves.
Those sage green eyes cut through the bullshit, sharp as glass, but there's something soft in them too, something that makes my chest tighten when she looks at me like she's trying to figure me out.
She's small, five-three, but she carries herself well. She has that kind of body that doesn't ask for attention, doesn't need to.
And she's beautiful. The kind of beauty that's effortless, the kind that makes you look twice when you shouldn't. The kind that makes you forget, just for a second, that you're old enough to be her damn father.
I groan, rubbing a hand over my face. Fuck.
She's not mine.
But Christ, I want her to be.
The box creaks as my fingers tighten around it. I flip the latch.
A single key glints against black velvet, small and silver.
What is this?
My fingers brush the cold metal, and beneath it, a folded slip of paper. The handwriting is neat, precise. My pulse thrums in my throat as I unfold it.
Heath,
I will appreciate you better than anyone can. I know you don't see me the way I see you. And that's why I trust you with this. I'm tired of pretending I don't want it.
Use the key. Come to my room tonight. Do whatever you want with me while I'm asleep.
Hallie
P.S. I probably won't wake up.
The paper trembles in my grip.
This isn't real. It can't be. This is a goddamn prank. A joke. A test.
And what does she mean appreciate?
But that's not important.
Whatever I want?
My cock throbs, a hot, insistent pulse against my zipper, and I bite back a growl.
I exhale through my nose, slow and controlled.
Don't get ahead of yourself, Caldwell.
The key burns against my palm. This could be a prank. I shove the note into my pocket and stride toward her room, shoes heavy on the hardwood.
I stop outside her door.
What am I doing?
I should walk away. Should leave the door locked, the note burned, the whole damn thing forgotten.
But I don't.
The key turns with a quiet click.
My feet carry me inside, the scent of her wrapping around me like a goddamn noose.
Moonlight spills across her bed, painting her in silver.
She's curled on her side, one arm tucked beneath her pillow, the other stretched out like she was reaching for something before sleep took her.
A thin white tank top clings to her chest, the fabric damp in two dark, spreading circles. My throat goes dry.
Fuck.
I shouldn't be here. Shouldn't be looking. But I can't stop. Can't tear my eyes away from the way her tits rise and fall with each slow breath, the way her nipples press against the cotton, hard and aching. My cock swells, thick and heavy, and I bite back a groan.
She winces in her sleep, a soft whimper escaping her lips. Her fingers twitch against the sheets, her brow furrowing like she's in pain. My chest tightens.
What the hell is wrong with me? She's asleep. And here I am, standing over her like some kind of?—
Another whimper. Louder this time. Her back arches slightly, her hips shifting like she's trying to ease some invisible pressure. My jaw clenches. I know what this is. Know what she needs.
Fuck it.
I kneel beside the bed, my calloused fingers brushing against her stomach as I lift the hem of her tank top.
She doesn't wake. Doesn't stir. Just breathes, slow and steady, her skin warm beneath my touch.
The fabric peels away, revealing her tits, full, heavy, the areolas dark and swollen, milk beading at the tips.
My mouth waters.
I shouldn't. Christ, I shouldn't. But the way she whimpers again, the way her body aches, I can't just stand here and watch her suffer.
My fingers wrap around one soft mound, squeezing gently.
A thick stream of milk sprays from her nipple, warm and creamy against my palm.
She sighs, her shoulders relaxing, her breath evening out.
I do it again. And again. Each squeeze pulls more of her sweetness from her body, each stream making her whimpers softer, her body looser. My cock throbs, trapped behind my zipper, but I ignore it.
A drop of milk slips down her breast, glistening in the moonlight. My thumb catches it, smearing it across her skin before bringing it to my lips. The taste hits me… sweet, rich, her. My eyes flutter shut for a second, my pulse roaring in my ears.
I shouldn't let something that tastes this good go to waste.
I lean down, my lips wrapping around her nipple, my tongue swirling around the tip before I suck. Hard. Her milk floods my mouth, thick and warm, and I groan against her skin. She gasps, her back arching slightly, but she doesn't wake.
I drink her down, my hands kneading her tits, my mouth working her nipples until she's empty. Until her body goes limp beneath my touch, her breath slow and deep, her skin flushed and glistening with sweat. Only then do I pull back, my lips wet with her milk, my cock aching so badly it hurts.
I stay there, kneeling beside her bed, my fingers tracing idle patterns on her stomach, my eyes locked on the rise and fall of her chest.
Then her thighs part before I even realize I've moved.
A soft sigh escapes her lips, her legs shifting restlessly against the sheets. The moonlight spills between them, painting her skin in silver, and my breath catches.
Fuck. She's wet. Glistening. The scent of her arousal hits me, and my cock throbs so hard it aches.
My fingers trail down her stomach, slow and deliberate, watching the way her skin pebbles beneath my touch. She whimpers, her hips lifting slightly, like she's searching for something in her sleep. My thumb brushes against the damp fabric of her panties, and she gasps, her thighs trembling.
So responsive.
I hook my fingers under the waistband, dragging the lace down her legs.
She doesn't wake. Doesn't stir. Just breathes, slow and deep, her body arching into my touch like she's been starving for it.
The panties hit the floor, and I spread her thighs wider, my gaze locked on her cunt… pink, swollen, dripping.
My mouth waters.
I trace a finger through her folds, slow and teasing. She moans, her back arching off the bed, her hips rolling against my hand.
Fuck, she's perfect. So wet. So needy. I circle her clit, watching the way her breath hitches, the way her thighs clench around my wrist.
"You want to feel good down here as well, huh?" I murmur, my voice rough. "Let me make it better."
She whimpers, her fingers twisting in the sheets, her hips lifting to meet my touch. I slide a finger inside her, slow and deep, and her walls clench around me, tight and hot.
Christ. She's tight. So fucking tight.
I add another finger, stretching her, watching the way her body trembles, the way her breath comes in short, sharp gasps.
"Damn," I growl, curling my fingers inside her. "Take it. Take what you need."
Her hips rock against my hand, her moans growing louder, more desperate. I can feel her getting closer, her walls fluttering around my fingers, her clit swelling beneath my thumb. I lean down, my lips brushing against her ear.
"Come for me, Hallie," I whisper. "Let me feel you."
She cries out, her back arching off the bed, her thighs shaking as her orgasm crashes over her. I keep my fingers inside her, feeling the way her walls pulse, the way her body trembles.
Fuck. She's beautiful like this, lost in pleasure, her skin flushed, her lips parted in a silent scream.
I pull my fingers free, bringing them to my lips. Her taste explodes on my tongue, and I groan, my cock throbbing so hard it hurts. I need more.
I kneel on her bed and spread her thighs wider, my gaze locked on her cunt.
I lean down, my tongue tracing a slow, teasing path through her folds.
She gasps, her hips lifting, her fingers tangling in the sheets.
I groan against her skin, my tongue swirling around her clit before dipping inside her.
She tastes so fucking good, sweet and musky.
I eat her like a starving man, my tongue circling, my lips sucking her clit, my fingers stretching her. She moans, her hips rocking against my face, her thighs trembling around my ears. I can feel her getting closer, her body tensing, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps.
"Come for me again," I growl against her skin. "Let me taste you."
She cries out, her back arching off the bed, her thighs clamping around my head as her orgasm crashes over her. I keep my tongue inside her, feeling the way her walls pulse, the way her body trembles.
I pull back, my lips wet with her arousal, my cock throbbing so hard it aches. I need to come. Need to mark her.
I unzip my pants, my cock springing free, thick and heavy and aching. I stroke myself, slow and rough, my gaze locked on her body, her flushed skin, her swollen lips, her thighs slick with her arousal.
"Fuck, Hallie," I groan, my hand moving faster. "You're so fucking beautiful."
She whimpers in her sleep, her hips shifting restlessly against the sheets. I can't wait. Can't hold back. I lean over her, my cock throbbing in my grip, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps.
"Mine," I growl, my voice rough. "All mine."
I come with a groan, thick ropes of cum painting her thighs, her sheets. She whimpers, her body trembling, her thighs spreading wider like she's begging for more. I stroke myself through it, my cum dripping down her skin, marking her, claiming her.
Fuck.
I collapse beside her, my breath ragged, my cock still twitching in my grip. She doesn't wake. Doesn't stir. Just breathes, slow and deep, her body glistening with sweat and my cum.
I lean down, my lips brushing against her ear.
"Sleep tight," I whisper. "I'll be back for more."