3. Buck
Chapter 3
Buck
T he truck feels too small for what's happening inside. Her scent fills my lungs—it’s her usual sweetness but tonight there’s something wilder underneath. Something that's calling to the beast I've kept trapped in a cage for too damn long.
We didn’t talk much on the drive over. Didn’t need to. The tension sat between us, thick and taunting, louder than any conversation we could’ve had. She didn’t fidget. I didn’t ask questions. We both knew where this was going, even if neither of us dared say it out loud.
Now we’re parked in front of my place, the engine ticking as it cools. The air feels too heavy for something as innocent as breathing. And she’s still right there—so close, too close—looking at me like she’s already made her choice.
Her car is still outside the Rusty Spur, and I’ll get it for her in the morning. But tonight needs to begin right now.
"Last chance to run, little girl." My voice comes out like I've been gargling glass.
Her response is to slide closer, those big doe eyes never leaving mine. She’s a full-on Bible-thumping Revelations sort of temptation, the kind that will send me through every level of hell because I already know she will taste like heaven.
"I'm done running.” She snaps her tongue against her front teeth. "Big bad cowboy, what are you gonna do about me? Put me down…on my back?”
Twenty years of restraint snaps like a dry twig.
I'm across the console like a rattlesnake, one hand tangled in her golden hair, the other finding her waist. I suck hard on the gasp she releases as I claim her lips, nothing gentle about it.
This isn't a first kiss. Not some subtle testing of the waters. It's a branding.
"Fuck." The curse catches in my throat as I drive my tongue between the softness of her lips and into her mouth. She tastes like trouble and cherry lip balm, with just a hint of dive bar smoke clinging to the edges—sweet, bold, and somehow exactly like I always knew she would. When she whimpers, I’m hit with a lightning bolt of clarity, her little hands clutching my shoulders.
"You've been teasing me for years.” It’s a statement of fact but also a final chance for one of us to come to our senses.
The truth pulls like a tightrope between us. This is my moment to be a good man. An honorable man, not a predator taking advantage of a girl I’ve known since before training bras and those fuckin’ man-eating curves. I didn’t want her like this back then, but when she blew out the candles on her birthday cake last year, the dinner bell inside me rang, and I’ve been salivating at the Callie buffet ever since.
She puts the final stake through the heart of what honor I have left with her answer.
"You call it teasing, I’ll call it offering," she purrs, nails digging in. "I wanted you to notice me. See me. All of me."
"I see everything." I drag my teeth down the column of her throat, feeling her pulse race beneath my tongue the taste of her making my dick weep. "Every goddamn thing you do. Strutting around in those tiny shorts when I come for Sunday dinner. Bending over when you know I can’t look away.”
Her breath stutters. She’s unsure and confident at the same time, and it’s fucking intoxicating. A woman and a girl in a twisted package of good and evil that’s pushing me to the limits of my control.
I pull back just enough to look into her eyes. "That's right, sweetheart. I noticed. Every. Single. Time."
I don't give her a chance to respond. Can't stand another second in this truck when my bed is minutes away. I pull her across my lap, throw open the door, and carry her toward the house, cupping her ass in my hands, her legs wrapped tight around my waist. Face to face my dick so close to heaven, it’s clawing its way through my zipper.
She’s so small against me. So fucking perfect.
"Buck," she whispers, pressing her lips to the rough scruff of my neck, nailing my coffin shut with little kisses that make stars dance in my eyes as my balls fucking ache to unload.
I kick the front door shut behind us and press her back against it letting her feet fall to the wooden floor. The contrast of her softness against my rough hands has all the apologies I’ll have to say to my best friend banking in my throat.
"You think you can tease me and get away with it, girl?" I rip the thin strap of her dress, drag it down to expose one perfect breast. "This isn’t fucking Yahtzee anymore. You rolled the dice one time too many.”
"Not a game." Her head falls back against the door, her body convulsing when I roll her nipple between my fingers. "I want to know how it feels to be yours.”
" Mine ." The word tears out of me like a confession. "You have no idea what that means."
“I know , that’s what I said, I want to know—"Her hands fumble between us, down my torso until they toy with my belt, eager little movements that have me grabbing both her wrists in one hand, pinning them above her head.
"Slow down ." I press my forehead against hers, breathing hard, ignoring her attempts to take control. "Once we start this, there's no going back. No regrets in the morning. No running home to daddy."
"I don't want to go back," she whispers on a pause, then gives me another dose of that Kryptonite, “I don’t want to go back, Papa,” she says, arching into me. "I want to go forward. All the way."
There’s no friendship that can stop this freight train now.
If I’m going to lose one of them, it will be her father, because she’s wound herself down into my very marrow and I already know there is no life without her. Especially now.
I let her hands go, tearing her dress down the middle, buttons scattering across the hardwood floor. No bra. That makes me angry and desperate in equal measure, thinking about all those men seeing her like this and wanting to mark her so they’ll know she’s mine.
Her perfect body is finally exposed to me, nothing but a tiny black triangle between her legs, a scrap of lace in my hands and what I've been dreaming about in front of my eyes.
"Goddamn fucking angel you are," I breathe, lifting her again by her ripe, soft ass with a grunt and growing dizzier by the second. I mount her against me, her legs wide around my middle, that heat cutting into my core like a laser. It’s destination bedroom, and there’s no room inside my brain for anything else. “You’re gonna be my undoing."
Seconds later, I toss her onto the mattress, salivating and yet dry-mouthed at the same time, watching her bounce, golden hair spilling across my pillow like I've imagined in my dreams. Perfect, perky tits and those lacy panties teasing the outline of what I know will be my final home for the rest of my life. She reaches up, like she’s done a thousand times when she wanted a hug or wanted me to lift her up, but I step back, unbuckling my belt, my eyes never leaving hers.
"Touch yourself," I command, voice thick with all the unspoken betrayal going on. "Show me what you do when you think about me."
Her cheeks flush pink, but her hand slides down her flat stomach, disappearing beneath black lace. "I think about you all the time," she confesses, eyes heavy-lidded as her fingers work beneath the fabric. "Your hands. Your mouth."
I kick off my boots, shove my jeans down my hips. I’m commando, always am, just a cowboy and his denim between me and the world.
Her eyes widen at the sight of me, thick and bobbing up to my waist, the tip seeping cum, ready for her.
"That's it, baby." I stroke myself once, twice. "Keep going."
"Buck, please." She's writhing on my sheets now, her own fingers not enough.
I knee-walk onto the bed, hovering over her without touching. "Please what?"
"Touch me," she begs, reaching for me.
I catch her wrist again, bring her fingers to my mouth. Taste her arousal on her skin. "Not until you say it."
She knows what I want. What I need to hear.
"Please, Papa." Those two words nearly end me right there. "I need you."
I rip that final scrap of lace from her body with one hard tug.
"Open those legs. Papa’s tired of pretending you’re off limits. No more forbidden fucking fruit."
She spreads for me immediately, all shame gone. Just pure need in those eyes as she bares herself completely.
I settle between her thighs, my broad shoulders forcing them wider. "You've been a brat," I tell her, brushing my thumb over her swollen clit, her bare little lips swollen and slick. I press down making her whimper. "Teasing me. Pushing me."
"It worked didn’t it?" she gasps as I slide my knuckles up and down through her silky paradise.
I memorize every movement and sound she makes as I stroke and press finally testing out that little hole that’s gonna own me for the rest of my life.
"It did." I add pressure, listening to her breath hitch, stretching her carefully for what’s to come, despite the animal inside me howling to take, claim, possess. I feel that virgin band making me work for it, making her hiss as I slide in and out in slow pulses. "And now you're gonna pay for it."
I curl my finger inside her, finding that spot that makes her back arch off the bed and she calls for God.
“Holy Je sus ,” she moans, eyes rolling back. “Papa, that feels good.”
“It’s supposed to. You never let anyone else touch what’s mine, did you?”
She flings her head back and forth, in exuberant assurance.
"Good. Because I remember every time you sassed me. Every time you bent over in those tiny shorts. Every fucking time you looked at me with those innocent eyes while thinking filthy thoughts." Each accusation is punctuated with a thrust of my finger. "I knew. I always knew."
I add a knuckle against her clit, giving her a slow finger fuck and knuckle dance.
She’s perfect. A masterpiece. Her pale skin quivering as her hands flutter and fuss, unsure what to do knowing soon, I’ll teach her all she needs to know.
“Papa’s right here baby. You’re safe. Follow that good feeling. I want to see how beautiful you are when I make you come.” She's close, dirty little girl gushing for her Papa, trembling with her cherry opening tightening around my finger. I withdraw, ignoring her cry of protest.
“Papa, please, more.” She’s a fresh sort of hell and I’m ready to burn for eternity.
“You wanna come? You’re gonna do as you’re told.”