Chapter 6
six
. . .
Gray
I've been calling in every favor I have, pulling every string, leaning on every contact to clear Beck's name.
Five days she's been with me now. Five days of claiming her body, of watching her resistance melt a little more each time.
Five days of keeping her safe in my cabin while working to fix the clusterfuck that put her in danger in the first place.
The laptop screen blurs as I rub my tired eyes.
Three more bounty hunters took the job this week alone.
One's getting close—asking questions at diners along the highway just twenty miles south.
Too fucking close. I need to hurry this process along before someone else shows up trying to take what's mine.
Beck moves around the kitchen behind me, the soft sounds of domesticity I never thought I'd have in this cabin.
The clink of mugs. The whoosh of the kettle.
Her bare feet padding on the wooden floor.
I've started ordering groceries—real food, not just the basics I used to keep—because she likes to cook.
Watching her move around my kitchen in one of my t-shirts, those soft legs bare and tempting, stirs something primal in my chest.
"Tea?" She appears at my elbow, setting a steaming mug beside my laptop.
I grunt in thanks, not looking up from the email I'm drafting to an old Army buddy who now works in the federal courthouse. He owes me for saving his ass in Kandahar. Time to collect.
"Any progress?" she asks, peering at the screen.
I angle the laptop away slightly. No need for her to see the details—the other bounty hunters' names, their locations, their methods. It would only frighten her. "Some. Got the right paperwork filed. Just need to push it through faster."
She nods, accepting this vague answer. Five days, and she's already learning not to push certain topics. Learning to trust that I'll handle things. Progress.
My hand reaches for her without conscious thought, wrapping around her wrist and pulling her into my lap. She comes willingly, settling across my thighs, her head fitting perfectly under my chin.
"Gray?" she murmurs against my neck.
"Hmm?"
"What happens when it's fixed? When the bounty's cleared?"
My arms tighten around her. I've been avoiding this question, even in my own mind. "What do you want to happen?"
She's silent for a long moment, her fingers playing with the collar of my shirt. "I don't know."
My heart sinks. What does she want? Freedom, a normal life, a man who didn't stalk her for weeks before claiming her?
Maybe that’s what her mind wants, but her body tells a different story. The way she melts when I call her "baby girl." The way she comes apart when I fill her. The way she's stopped trying to leave.
"You're safe here," I tell her, my hand sliding under her shirt to stroke the soft skin of her back. "That's what matters right now."
She sighs, and I feel her surrender in the way she relaxes against me. Another small victory.
The sound of tires on gravel interrupts the moment. Beck stiffens in my arms.
"Delivery," I explain, easing her off my lap. "Ordered some supplies."
I check the security camera feed on my phone—a nondescript delivery van, one driver. Expected. Safe. I grab my gun anyway, tucking it into the back of my jeans before heading to the door.
The delivery guy is young, maybe mid-twenties, with an easy smile that sets my teeth on edge immediately. He holds a stack of boxes.
"Gray Maddox?" he asks, consulting his clipboard.
I nod, taking the boxes. "Thanks."
But instead of leaving, he peers past me into the cabin, eyes landing on Beck who's now standing in the kitchen doorway. His gaze lingers on her bare legs, the way my shirt hangs off one shoulder.
"That all?" I ask, my voice dropping to a warning rumble.
He doesn't take the hint. "Nice place you got here, way out in the mountains." He's still looking at Beck. "Must get lonely."
My vision edges with red. "No," I say flatly. "It doesn't."
Beck shifts uncomfortably under his stare, tugging the hem of the shirt lower. A protective growl builds in my throat.
"Need a signature," the guy says, finally dragging his eyes back to me and holding out his clipboard.
I scrawl my name, deliberately pressing hard enough to tear the paper. A message. "We're done here."
But the fucker still doesn't leave. "Storm coming in tonight," he says conversationally. Now he's looking at Beck again. "Might get stranded if the roads flood. I could come back, check on you folks—"
The door slams with enough force to rattle the windows. I don't remember closing it. Don't remember setting down the boxes. All I know is that the red has completely taken over my vision, and there's a roaring in my ears like a freight train.
"Gray?" Beck's voice, uncertain.
I turn to her, knowing my expression must be terrifying from the way she takes a step back. Good. She should be afraid right now. I'm not safe. Not when another man looks at her like that. Not when another man offers to "come back" to my territory, to what's mine.
"He looked at you," I snarl, advancing on her.
She backs up until she hits the wall.
"He was imagining you naked." I cage her in with my arms. "Thinking about what you'd feel like. Taste like."
"Gray, you're being—"
"Mine!” The word tears from my throat as I lift her, hands gripping her ass as her legs instinctively wrap around my waist. "Say it."
Her eyes are wide, pupils dilating with a mixture of fear and arousal. "Yours," she whispers. "I'm yours, Gray."
"Daddy," I correct, carrying her toward the bedroom, my cock already painfully hard against the fly of my jeans.
"Daddy," she echoes, her arms tightening around my neck. "I'm yours, Daddy."
I kick the bedroom door open, crossing to the bed in three long strides before tossing her onto the mattress. She bounces once, her—my—shirt riding up to expose the fact that she's wearing nothing underneath.
"On your back," I order. "Spread your legs."
She complies immediately, thighs falling open to reveal her pussy, already slick and pink. My mouth waters at the sight.
"Look how wet you are," I growl, kneeling between her legs. "You love when I get like this, don't you? When I go feral over you."
She doesn't answer, but the way her hips shift restlessly tells me everything I need to know.
I run my hands up her thighs, pushing them wider. "You're doing so good for Daddy, little girl," I praise, watching goosebumps rise on her skin at the words. "Gonna breed this perfect pussy until you're dripping."
Her breath catches. "Please..."
That plea breaks what little restraint I have left. I surge forward, covering her body with mine, claiming her mouth in a brutal kiss as I line myself up and thrust home in one smooth motion.
She cries out into my mouth, inner walls clenching around me as I bottom out inside her. I give her no time to adjust, setting a punishing pace immediately, driving into her with all the possessive rage still coursing through my veins.
"Every. Fucking. Time." I punctuate each word with a thrust. "Someone looks at you. Wants you. I'm going to remind you who you belong to."
"You," she gasps, hands clutching at my shoulders. "Only you, Daddy."
I slip a hand between us, finding her clit with practiced ease. "That's right, baby girl. Only I get to see you like this. Only I get to feel this tight pussy gripping my cock." I circle the swollen bud, feeling her tense beneath me. "Only I get to fill you with my seed."
Her back arches, chasing the pleasure as I drive her higher. I can feel her getting close, her inner muscles fluttering around me. The sight of her—flushed, eyes glazed, completely at my mercy—nearly undoes me.
"Please, Daddy," she begs, the words sending a jolt straight to my cock. "Please fill me up."
"Such a good girl," I praise, increasing the pressure on her clit. "Begging for Daddy's cum. Begging to be bred."
She nods frantically, beyond words now.
"That's what you need, isn't it?" I growl, feeling my own release building at the base of my spine. "Need me to pump you full. Mark you from the inside out."
"Yes!" she cries, and then she's coming, her pussy clamping down on me like a vise, milking my cock as she shudders beneath me.
I follow her over the edge with a roar, emptying myself deep inside her, grinding my hips against hers to ensure every drop stays where it belongs. Inside her. Where I can pretend it's taking root, growing into something that will bind her to me forever.
As we catch our breath, I stay buried inside her, unwilling to break the connection. Her hands stroke lazily up and down my back, her heartbeat gradually slowing beneath my chest.
"You're insane," she murmurs, but there's no fear in her voice. Just a resigned acceptance that sends a thrill of victory through me.
I brush damp hair from her forehead, suddenly gentle now that the feral need to claim has been satisfied. "Only about you."
She studies my face, those hazel eyes searching for something. "What if I had wanted to leave? When the bounty is cleared."
The question catches me off guard, honesty spilling out before I can stop it. "I'd follow you. Wherever you went." I press my forehead to hers. "But I'd make it impossible for you to want to leave."
Something flickers across her face—a heat, a need that matches my own. She's beginning to understand the depth of this obsession. Beginning to crave it as much as I do.
"Rest," I tell her, finally withdrawing from her body and pulling her against my side. "I've got more calls to make."
She curls into me, fitting perfectly against my larger frame. Five days, and her body already knows its place. With me. Safe. Protected.
Mine to keep. Mine to breed. Mine forever, whether she knows it yet or not.