CONTENTS
Preacher’s Daughter
NEWSLETTER
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Epilogue
Extended Epilogue
Extended Epilogue
NEWSLETTER
A MAN WHO KNOWS WHAT HE WANTS
BRATVA BEAR SHIFTERS
LAIRDS & LADIES
RUSSIAN UNDERWORLD
IRISH WOLF SHIFTERS
Collaborations
About the Author
PREACHER’S DAUGHTER
AN OLDER MAN YOUNGER WOMAN ROMANCE
_______________________
A MAN WHO KNOWS WHAT HE WANTS, 221
FLORA FERRARI
Copyright © 2020 by Flora Ferrari
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
The following story contains mature themes, strong language and sexual situations. It is intended for mature readers.
PREACHER’S DAUGHTER
FAITH
My suitcase has hardly touched the ground, home from college when my Preacher Dad announces he has to go on a business trip.
Church business.
To make matters worse, Dad warns me of drifters in the area. Warns me to keep the house shut up tight, not opening the door for anyone.
But once he’s gone, I feel eyes on me.
A stranger’s eyes.
Maybe it’s real eyes, or maybe it’s just a feeling. Like something in the wind.
Either way, I’m a changed girl since being at home alone and now I feel like doing something I’ve never felt like doing before.
Is he watching?
Is it really just the wind?
Whatever it is, it’s dangerous and it’s my new middle name.
God, I hope he’s watching me.
Wanting me.
NOAH
I have a promise to keep. My dear and beloved Gramma’s dying wish.
Should be straight forward enough, just deliver the case she left behind.
Easy enough, right?
The pain of her passing is hard, but she was a good woman. More family than I ever had.
She was the only family I ever had, and we weren’t even related.
An unexpected stop along the way leads me straight to her, something that cancels out everything in a single moment.
It’s not the wet heat of the thunderclouds above.
It’s a different kind of Southern heat that draws me to that house.
Draws me to her.
I have my promise to keep, but suddenly, a whole lot more is riding on what I see.
The dry crack of thunder. The huge drops of warm rain that splinter my very soul as I watch her, unseen.
Needing her. Wanting her.
Planning to claim her.
If she’s not riding on me before this night’s through, like I know she needs it…
Like I know she wants it.
The perfect detour or the perfect storm?
I think I may have just stumbled onto both.
*Preacher’s Daughter is an insta-everything standalone instalove romance with a HEA, no cheating, and no cliffhanger.
NEWSLETTER
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CHAPTER ONE
Faith
It feels like my suitcase has barely touched the floor before my Dad announces he’s leaving again.
“But I just got home!” I protest, pouting like a child more than a college graduate.
“I know, darlin’, but this conference… I just can’t get out of it,” My Dad says meekly, looking at me with his soft, kind eyes.
“It’s only for a day or two, then I’ll be back and we can pick up right where we left off this afternoon, how about it?” he asks with infectious enthusiasm.
I can’t stay mad at the man, he’s like a saint.
Next closest, he’s the county preacher.
Whenever the topic of parents came up at college, I was always careful to be vague without deliberately lying.
I just told folks my Dad was a consultant. Not that I’m ashamed of my Dad, but trying to get a boyfriend in college with ‘Preacher’s daughter’ hanging around my neck?
It didn’t make much difference anyway, turns out guys don’t go for thick girls after all.
Not at that college anyway.
“Do you need me to drive you someplace?” I ask hopefully, suddenly not looking forward to being alone in the house.
“I got a car picking me up,” he says, wincing a little more, knowing I’m a little hurt that he’s all hello and goodbye which I have to admit, is unlike my Dad.
“It’s something I did try and get out of,” he insists as I suck in a breath and turn on my heel, hoping to hide my emotions and failing.
To make matters worse, the A/C in my room isn’t working and it’s not even the hottest part of the day yet.
I grew up down south, I know the weather here this time of year. The trouble is I’m just not used to it anymore.
“Dammit!” I yell once my hand hits the solid A/C unit in the thick timber frame of my bedroom window.
“Language!” Dad calls out, followed by his heavy steps before he’s in my doorway.
“I did apologize, honey, there’s no need to curse and there’s no need to hurt yourself either. I called a guy about the air-con. He’ll be here tomorrow, maybe,” he says, wincing again.
I slump to the floor, trying not to smile, wanting to stay mad but Dad just has the gift of making bad situations better, just by being there for me.
“But what about today, tonight?” I add. Whining now, surprised at how much coming home again has made me feel like a little girl instead of a grown up.
“Shoot!” My Dad mutters, looking at his watch. “Uh, you’ll just have to use a fan or sleep in the living room,” he calls over his shoulder as he bustles back to getting ready to leave.
Hearing him snap shut every window as he passes it sees me following him through the house.
“What are you doing, Daddy? I’ll cook in here!”
He turns, smiling as he takes me by both elbows and kisses my forehead.
“I don’t want you worrying, Faith. But there’s been talk of drifters in the area, a man. Men,” he says, suddenly looking past me as I feel myself shivering.
Not with fear, but with the intensity of my long-held fantasy.
A stranger, a real man coming out of thin air and sweeping me off my feet. Taking me in his arms and-
“Faith? Are you even listening to me?” he asks
, confused by my sudden smile and faraway look.
“I don’t want you going outside after dark or opening the door to anyone, Y’hear? Plus there’s a storm coming in case you didn’t notice. Sheriff Brodie’s number’s by the phone and you have my cell. Now, I really have to get ready.”
“What about the Air-con guy?” I hear myself chime, almost sounding petulant. “Can he come inside?”
“Very funny, Faith, Now I have to-”
But it’s too late, I’m already imagining what he would look like.
I tell myself I can open all the doors and windows once Dad leaves. Let the evening breeze come in and freshen the place up.
I’ve never heard of any drifters around these parts my whole life, and I’m sure it’s just Dad’s way of trying to politely frighten me into locking the house up tight.
Locking me up tight, his only daughter.
Preacher’s daughter.
But all he’s really done is set my imagination ablaze.
On fire with a mental picture of what I think the ideal man might look like, what he might wear.
How he might take me.
He’d be an older man, not a boy. Not someone who’s hung up on looks alone. But he’d be perfect himself, without even realizing it.
He’d have a lifetime of experience, and it would show.
Successful, maybe without even realizing it. Rich, but not showy. He’s a self-made man who knows what he wants and he’s more than capable of getting it.
He’s tall, well over six feet, and has dark hair. Enough to grab handfuls of.
And he’s built. Muscles that he doesn’t need to show off because they speak for themselves.
Because they are him, his dark eyes smolder, wanting me as he tears at his own clothes. Aching for me to-
“Like I said, honey. Just use the fan or go in the living room. Don’t stand there getting yourself all worked up about it… you okay? You look like you’re about to burst,” he says finally, standing back in front of me with his bag packed and checking his watch again.
The honk of a horn jolts me from my daydream and Dad pecks my cheek.
“Bolt the door behind me, there’s a ton of food in the kitchen. I’ll call you when I get there.”
It feels like four years of college and my whole life up to this moment vanish when I hear the front door slam shut.
Looking through the curtains, making sure Dad’s ride is heading down the road, a tall tail of dust behind it, I start to open up every window as I pass it, keeping the front door locked of course.
No point in being reckless, but I need cool air when it comes and now I have the place to myself, I can relax and slip out of my regular clothes.
Heading upstairs, I set the fan blowing in my bedroom after opening the window and getting some instant relief as I undress, still smiling to myself at my ideal man fantasy.
Until I catch sight of myself in my full length mirror that is.
I screw up my face, blow some air at myself, and toss my T-shirt over the mirror.
I’ve never liked what I see in the mirror, plus it’s ruining my fantasy.
Drying up my well.
Making my way to the shower, I suddenly stop.
I don’t hear anything, but I do have the feeling someone’s watching me.
“Dad?” I call out, covering myself with a towel and peering out over the landing, double-checking he hasn’t forgotten something.
Nothing. Nobody. I’m all alone still.
I blow some more air, shaking my head at letting myself get drawn into Dad’s story to scare me into locking up the house, but as I move back into my bedroom after checking downstairs I can’t help but feel like there is someone or something watching me somehow as I move through the house.
I creep over to the window, a sudden rush of cool air making me shiver and I feel my chest stiffen under my towel.
But it’s the sudden rush of heat to my center that makes me gasp.
Something on the breeze, a scent?
More like a feeling.
Whatever it is, it’s made me hornier than hell in an instant and my hand actually strays between my legs as I feel my knees start to shake.
I jump a little as my T-shirt slides from my mirror, giving me a full view of myself side-on as I stand by the open window, shivering like a leaf as I contemplate doing something that’s never crossed my mind much.
Something in the air, whatever it is has made me want to get down on all fours and pleasure myself so that whoever, or whatever I think is watching can have the full show.
So why don’t you?
I shudder again.
Because I guess all those years of being the Preacher’s daughter has left me a little uptight.
Okay, a lot uptight.
Even though I know deep down what I need, and I know my fingers just won’t do.
I need a real man, not that I’d know what to do with one if I even had one.
I want to stare out the window, to scan the yard and make sure nobody’s watching.
But I also want some more of this feeling, whatever it is, real or not.
My cool shower, with both the bathroom door and shower curtain open, is unusual for me. I’m hoping it will calm me down, soothe me, but it’s like the water bubbles right off me I feel so hot.
A new kind of heat, and it’s nothing to do with the weather.
There’s a large clap of thunder, right over the house and I can see the lightning shimmering with my eyes half-closed, all soapy as I wash myself.
I fight my own urges again, urges I’ve never had. Deciding I want skin on skin from my fantasy man, not some clumsy efforts of my own.
Plus what I feel awoken in me is so deep, so intense, I really feel like it’s waiting for someone else to unlock anyway.
Like it already belongs to someone else.
With the window still open, I flip off the lights after I’m done and lay on my bed, still damp from the shower. I let the gradually cooling breeze of the evening tickle me as I lay completely still, my heart pounding still.
The continuous flicker of distant lightning and the growl of thunder eventually eases me into a strange sleep.
An even stranger dream too, where the man from my fantasy climbs through my window and has his way with me on the bathroom floor as I pull the shower curtain off its rings while he takes me roughly from behind.
Helpless under his touch.
CHAPTER TWO
Noah
“Ugh! I shoulda filled you up long ago, girl… you really needed it huh?”
Gripping harder, I feel my foot pumping in time with my rapid heartbeat. My whole leg shaking as I feel it all about to end.
“C’mon baby. C’mon!” I growl, grinding my teeth and pumping harder until I can’t hold it any longer.
Until I know we’re done. My whole body shudders as I make a wild animal sound.
There is a pop and a hiss that goes along with it as if running out of gas isn’t enough of a climax.
The old girl’s overheated to boot.
I really thought she’d make it to town, but the gas gauge has been on half for the past ten years. No real way of knowing when I’m actually gonna stop.
I nurse my old girl, the huge orange and white truck off the dirt road onto the soft shoulder behind some ancient trees.
There’s an old plantation house just over the way, and I try and hail a car as it leaves heading in the opposite direction, hoping they can either help me with a ride or some gas before dark.
But no dice.
They’re too far ahead and don’t see me waving in time.
The dust from the road swallows them up and I taste it, along with the bitterness of another defeat.
I get halfway between my truck and the fence of the plantation house when I remember the case.
I go back for it.
It’s not mine, but I’d hate to see it in the wrong hands.
I figure if nobody’s home, I can maybe scout around for s
ome gasoline, maybe leave some cash in the mailbox as payment.
The sound of old windows opening arrests my attention, making me stand up straighter, cocking my ear and moving to the side of the driveway by instinct.
I’ve never skulked in the shadows before, but since this whole suitcase business…
Once I see her though, once it registers who is opening all the downstairs windows, I forget all about the case.
Nearly drop the damned thing.
In a split second, I decide maybe knocking on the front door isn’t the best idea just yet.
The very sight of her is giving me a very peculiar reaction.
The kind of reaction I know I can’t show in public. The kind of hard on I haven’t had since I was a teenager, and that was over twenty years ago.
Fuck, she’s perfect!
I move from bush to bush alongside the edge of the driveway as she goes from window to window, lifting them open with her thick chest straining against her white T-shirt. Thick pebbled nipples like stiff pink fingers reaching out through the thin fabric.
I let out an involuntary groan, feeling dizzy in the heat of the bushes. The buzzing insects and stifling humidity of the underbrush is nothing compared to the heat I suddenly feel pounding against my zipper.
My hand strays to my aching pole, itching to free it, to release the sudden impulse I have just from the first few glimpses of her.
With my mouth so dry, I feel my tongue on the roof of it like an old shoe, waiting to see her at the next window.
But she’s gone again.
I start to whine, then growl, shaking my head in disbelief.
If I don’t see her again I’ll just explode on the spot.
She must’ve gone upstairs, around back.
In a few long strides I’m by the side of the house, stealing my way around the back, hopeful there’s nobody else home but not a hundred percent sure, I need to be careful.
I hear an upstairs window open, and spying a huge Cypress tree that casts a long shadow in the failing light, I see my next vantage point.
The massive tree is taller than the old plantation house, adding a degree of coolness to the rear of the whole yard with its wide trunk and low hanging foliage.
Scrambling up the backside of the tree after leaving the case at the bottom, I almost slip when I catch sight of her again as I feel some cool air start to caress me.
Preacher's Daughter: An Instalove Possessive Age Gap Romance Page 1