by Olivia Fox
Daddy’s Little Wild One
Olivia Fox
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DARKNESS
“Until we have seen someone’s darkness we don’t really know who they are. Until we have forgiven someone’s darkness, we don’t really know what love is.”
Marianne Williamson
Chapter One
I hated to admit it. My ass was lost.
The fog was coming in thick, and it looked like I’d be sleeping outside until it cleared and could find my way back to the road.
I should’ve known better than to go hiking out here without a compass.
What was I thinking?
When I started out a couple of hours ago, the thick mist crept over the top of the mountains, like any other day.
Then the sea smoke rolled in.
Now here I was scaling one of many steep mountain slopes of this deserted heart of the Lost Coast, hardly knowing which side was up.
The forest duff smell rose from beneath my hiking boots: fungus, fir needles, moisture. As if to remind me, out here, humans were of little consequence. Moisture had become so dense in the air that droplets fell like rain from the leaves every time they were rustled by a slight breeze. Great, now I was getting wet, which meant being cold on top of lost. My glutes were aching from the steep climb. One good thing about hiking in the winter, less brush and stinging nettles to contend with.
Who was I kidding? Stinging nettles didn’t stand a chance against Captain Hook, my artificial arm.
I lifted the beauty up to admire. No use in gussying her up to look like a fake hand with a silicone sleeve.
She had nothing to hide.
My hook was made of titanium, which sounded cool.
Suddenly, an unmistakable odor shocked me dead still in my tracks, and I had to gulp it in through my nostrils to prove to myself it was true.
Wood smoke.
Now the question was, would the fire maker be friend or foe?
Chapter Two
I could still hear my old sergeant lecturing me from the past for being such a loner. “Why don’t you come out for drinks after work with the rest of us like every other normal cop on the force?“
“Thanks, Sarg, not my cup of tea. I need my alone time.“
I was still alive, but my life had ended the night after that gentle socializing refusal, and no matter how tough I thought I was, the memories proved otherwise. There wasn’t enough alcohol in the world to block them out.
So here’s to you, Sgt. Barney. I’ve sure as hell made up on the drinking front since leaving the force. I toasted my invisible companion in the air and sipped Arran Robert Burns single malt scotch on the rocks.
I didn’t like it peaty, and I could afford the splurge.
Just because I chose to live in the middle of nowhere as a hermit didn’t mean I had to suffer when it came to creature comforts.
Early retirement—aka disability—was hardly enough to live on, but my mother’s inheritance set me up pretty. Again, I raised the glass to toast the air.
Thanks for nothing, you old bitch. The kindest thing you ever did for me was die.
“Don’t be dramatic, Mia,“ I could hear her retort. “You always were prone to exaggeration.”
I flipped off her invisible ass and stuck my tongue out at her.
Real mature.
My bath was drawn and the water steaming hot, as it should be. The back slope of the Japanese tub cradled me, and my eyes closed as my neck rested comfortably against its ledge.
I drifted off a while and jerked upright when the bright flashes of gunfire exploded like fireworks behind my eyelids.
Not drunk enough.
I shook my head, as if the frightful images that threatened me even in my unconscious state could be shaken off, gulped a swallow of scotch, and set the heavy glass down hard on the ledge beside the tub.
My scars throbbed. I rubbed the angry, raised strip splitting the smooth skin of my collarbone and shoulder like a miniature dragon’s spine, and traced its tail, bleeding down my chest and fanning out in a pattern of shaded dents above my breast. Luckily, I’d only been grazed and not pierced by bullets that night. Others hadn’t been so fortunate.
Or, according to my mother as she lay on her death bed, I was the unlucky one. “You’d be better off dead than living with those ugly scars. What man is going to want you now?“
It was futile to try and convince her my main objective wasn’t putting a ring on my finger. After all, it had worked for her. Her first marriage had rescued her from poverty, and when that husband died, she was left with enough in the bank so that she never had to worry about money again. Still, true happiness had always eluded her.
I grabbed the small wooden chest off the window ledge next to the tub and took a Vicodin out of it to calm my nerves. It was a potentially deadly combination with the scotch, but maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.
I soaped my breasts and tried to focus on the scent of glazed apricot soap.
Whelp, looked like these babies would be going to waste. I’d be the only one stroking them from here till eternity.
And you wanted it that way, didn’t you?
Solitude.
Safety.
No one to notice how truly whack you had become.
A knock at the front door had me almost leaping out of the tub.
What the fuck? Was I dreaming, or drunker than I thought? Either one was a possibility.
A quick mental check put me at ease—the doors and windows were locked tight. I had performed my nightly security protocol and checked them all three times. No one could enter my fortress.
Calm down. Breathe. You’re all right.
I quickly toweled off, threw a robe on, and grabbed my Glock from the counter. The thing was practically an appendage, never more than an arm’s length away.
I learned my lesson—and what a useless and tragic lesson it had been.
Chapter Three
There were few smells in life so evocative as a wood fire. Like the smell of bacon to a hungry man, the promise of the fire’s warmth teasingly appealed to my chilly extremities. I could think of only one thing more enticing—a woman’s smile. But on a cold evening like this, with darkness soon descending, the creature comfort promised by a fire beat out feminine charm by a mile.
They called it “socked in” for a reason; I may as well have worn a giant sock over my head, the visibility was so bad. I was following a smoke-scented trail while nearly blinded by the cloud cover. The spongy crunch of dead fir needles and twigs underfoot was the only sound as I moved forward. That smell could save me from having to spend an uncomfortable night outdoors, waiting for the fog to disperse. There was no way I could make it back to my truck.
The first thing I nearly ran into, was a beautifully carved handrail—where it led wasn’t clear in the fog, but I took my chances. From the top of the walkway, I could see a two-story house in the trees with huge windows all around the upper and lower floors, glowing amber color on the inside. Arriving at the top, I stood on a wrap-around deck, which hugged the hide away home in the trees. As I made my way closer to the home, the sight before me ceased all thoughts about fog.
Suddenl
y, I was pure animal, reminded of the ever-present need to fuck.
A gorgeous woman stood up in a tub and rubbed circles over a pair of the most succulent breasts I ever had the pleasure of viewing. My mouth watered at the longing I felt to take those pink nipples into my mouth and suckle.
My eye caught on the darkened divots that patterned her upper shoulder above her heart. I recognized them for what they were, not some form of birthmark although they could be mistaken for that, but bullet wounds. Curiosity fled as she slid her hands down to her pussy, and I realized I was invading her privacy. Terribly. It was hard to pull myself away from the enticing vision, but I did so out of respect.
On the other hand, my beastly hard-on was a cad who would do nothing of the sort. It had no conscience. Go back and see what her pussy looks like on the inside. You know you want to fuck her! Or do me a solid and jack me off while she rubs her hands over that sweet little cunt.
I followed the external wall of the house around to the front door. There were three steps made of river rock that led to the front door, which I took in one leap and knocked politely on the carved wood, trying to act as if there weren’t an unbending baton in my pants.
It took a while, but she swung open the door, standing in her robe with one hand on her hip. “What the fuck are you doing on my property?” She scanned the deck behind me, checking for an additional threat, and licked her bee-stung lips. Her other hand held a gun pointed straight at my forehead. “Only an idiot would be out in this fog.“ She sounded tough enough, but I noticed the exaggerated glimmer in her eyes indicating otherwise.
Slow movements. Don’t startle her.
I raised my hands little by little. “Guilty as charged. Foolishly, I find myself lost in the woods.”
My hard-on was completely unaware of the near and present danger, advising instead, That potty mouth of hers is going to get her spanked if she’s not careful. Put her over your knee.
“You’re a long fucking way from civilization, mister, and I don’t find myself feeling too civil.” There were tiny beads of sweat beginning to dot her upper lip.
“Look, I’m sorry, but I promise I mean you no harm. It would be very kind of you to let me stay over until this fog clears is all.”
Her chin-length bob looked like she whacked at it herself, and the same went for her charmingly uneven bangs. Her hazel eyes squinted at me from behind huge, black plastic-framed glasses that Elton John might be caught wearing. Her lips were bitable, the kind so naturally plump, they were stuck in perpetual pout. Her evident fear, could prove dangerous if it resulted in a twitchy trigger finger.
“I’ll let you stay, under one condition,” she said, pressing her lips together and scowling.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“You put these on.” She pulled a pair of metal handcuffs out of her bathrobe pocket and handed them to me, keeping her body angled away from me at a safe position.
“Are you serious?”
“As a heart attack,“ she said. “Take it or leave it. You’ve got ten seconds to decide. The woods get mighty chilly overnight when the wind kicks up. Let’s hope no hungry mountain lion comes across your tender self.“
I slowly blinked. “All right. Deal.”
“Up against the wall.” When I complied, she actually frisked me, hesitating when she came to my prosthetic. “How the hell is this gonna work with the cuffs?”
I assumed she referred to Captain Hook.
“It wraps around my shoulder. If you cuff me, there is no way I can break free to take it off. Aside from the fact it is totally unnecessary to cuff me anyways,” I grumbled at her.
Unbelievably, she stuck out her tongue.
Yep. Cruisin’ for a bruisin’ this one. Pure brat. Good thing she doesn’t know you’re a certified brat tamer or your ass would be in trouble right now.
Chapter Four
Why did he have to smell like this? Like limes and manliness. The combination was disturbingly invigorating.
My best friend back in town had a theory—if you didn’t like the way someone smelled, it was an absolute sign you should never reproduce with them.
If the opposite were true, Lost Dude and I would make beautiful babies together.
Son of a bitch. One interaction with the opposite sex after a couple years of solitude and suddenly I was fantasizing about dreamy dude’s dick? Not gonna happen. No way. No how.
Who knew what this guy was up to in the woods on his own? I could think of a million inappropriate reasons. Okay, admittedly, Oscar-worthy suspicion was the by-product of being a cop. Enough exposure to the underbelly of humans, and even the most naïve and optimistic person grew jaded.
I was naive once.
My list of potential motives for Sir Lime-a-lot included:
He was out scouting grows and not lost at all. He planned to steal someone’s illegal cannabis supply and make a tidy profit.
He was poaching on private land. Granted, he didn’t have a weapon with him now, but he could have stashed it in the brush.
He found out I lived here and was some sort of sexually deviant predator.
Three strikes and you’re out.
Three lives were out that night. I couldn’t keep these random-ass thoughts from ping-ponging across my mind.
Anyone would be haunted by what I went through—or so my mandatory trauma therapist told me after the event.
Ever since the accident, my thoughts were like a spiderweb. The closest thing to peace I could find was usually at the bottom of a glass of scotch.
This asshole, criminal… whatever he was, would sleep on the couch. He already intruded on my date with my buddy the bottle, and I wasn’t about to let him sleep in one of my beds, smearing his mouthwatering aroma all over the place.
Even now, as he walked ahead of me into my house, beautiful buns on display and arms locked in front of him, his powerful scent wafted in the air, making me a little lightheaded.
If I offered him a mattress to sleep on, he’d leave his scent all over the sheets, and I didn’t need to be reminded of what any part of the mating ritual could offer. Such a life wasn’t for me, no matter how my biological clock might protest. I took three lives two years ago and didn’t deserve to pursue anything resembling a happy ever after—or even a happy ending.
That life was over and out.
Chapter Five
I woke up to the smell of crack caffeine.
My body was stiff from the long hike yesterday, as well as sleeping on the couch.
The metal restraint irritated the one wrist made of flesh, and the other ached dully with delusional pain, as if my arm below the elbow were still there and suffered from its wound. The cuffs were an extreme measure. On the other hand, I wasn’t a female. I didn’t know what it felt like to be prey and live in the middle of the woods. Selfishly, I was willing to go along with anything it took to have a warm place to sleep.
And now coffee. Please God, let her give me coffee.
There was an additional spicy sausage odor that made my belly grumble. I rose, stretched my back, and walked toward the finger-licking aroma.
Good God, coffee and whatever sizzled in the cast iron pan on the woodstove weren’t the only things that whet my appetite.
She looked amazing, if not a little too thin, in her gray sweatpants, hips bouncing from side to side in time to Patsy Cline.
My renegade cock was jacked without needing coffee and couldn’t decide which lascivious thing to do first.
Fuck her from behind! Put her on her knees in front of you. Punish her for being such a potty mouth last night.
Instead, I politely said, “Good morning. Don’t suppose I could bother you for a cup of coffee?”
She spun around, sucked in a gasp, and looked at me, blinking rapidly. The wooden spoon in her hand stuck out comically at her side.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.“
“You shouldn’t sneak up on people!” The tendons in her neck stood out, and her face h
ad drained of color.
“For real, I’m sorry.” The last thing I wanted to do was exacerbate her uneasiness, even though her response seemed a little disproportionate to the situation. “Do you think I’ll be so lucky as to get some of whatever you’re cooking?“
“Of course. We feed our prisoners well here.”
Was that a joke?
I admired the way she gracefully maneuvered a generous pour of the life-affirming liquid into a sizable mug while continuing to stir breakfast. “Don’t make yourself at home though. Right after breakfast, I’m hauling your ass back to town.”
Just watch your mouth, okay, baby? But it wasn’t like she was my baby girl, so I really couldn’t expect her to slough off that coarse tongue of hers with its disrespectful tone.
I told my soft Dom self to take a seat as I informed her, “My truck is parked up on the ridge by the road. Not in town.“
“Whatever.” She jerkily put away the last of the dishes in the drying rack, jamming them into the cupboards with loud clinks and clanks. It was surprising they didn’t break.
God, she was prickly. I heard the unspoken words in my head. Say “whatever” again and I’ll spank you; is that what you want? The idea made my palm itch with the urge to smack her succulent bottom. I wondered what her reaction would be if she knew what I was thinking?
My traitorous thoughts ran rampant with fantasies flashing across my brain. I’d take her outside, strip her naked, and tell her to run on the count of three. Then I’d prove to her she couldn’t escape, shoving her up against a tree….
I tried to hide the fact that I wanted to eat her up by saying, “Is it always this foggy here?“
“It’s never predictable. Weather changes from one minute to the next. You were asking to get lost, no matter how experienced you are in the woods.”