Your Daddy: A Dark Romance

by B. B. Hamel

  Finally, Tara and Mason came back from the rest stop building. Tara opened the door and wordlessly got Mason back into his car seat. She climbed back up front and sat down next to me.

  “Not going in?” she asked.

  “Don’t need to.”

  “Do they train you SEALs to have magic bladders or something?” she asked.

  I grinned at her. “That’s right. They teach us to have full mastery of our cocks.”

  That got a small grin from her, but it quickly disappeared. “Let’s go,” she said. “Mason is going to start getting cranky soon. I want to get him down.”

  I fired up the engine. “You got it, princess.”

  I pulled out and headed back onto the highway. I heard anther one of my many burner phones buzz and saw that it was a message from Travis.

  Omar followed, but I lost him. Proceed with caution.

  “Fuck,” I said out loud.

  “What?” Tara asked.

  I clenched my jaw. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it.” I tossed the phone back into the console and shut it.

  So Omar really had followed us. I’d expected him to, but I wasn’t sure.

  It would have made sense if he’d stayed behind in Dayton. It seemed as though there was something important there. But maybe all of this really was just some cheap revenge ploy, a way for him to regain some of his lost honor.

  The night stretched on ahead of us as we drove. We were only a half hour away, but I needed to be careful. I couldn’t lead Omar back to the safe house, otherwise it wouldn’t be safe anymore.

  As we pulled into Indianapolis, I knew our journey wasn’t quite over yet.

  “We’re going to need to drive some more,” I said to Tara.

  “What? Why?”

  “That message earlier, it was from Travis. Omar followed us.”

  “Oh,” she said. “Shit.”

  “We can’t lead him right to the safe house. We’re going to have to drive around, make sure nobody is tailing us.”

  “Yeah, okay. Fine. How long will that take?”

  I smirked at her. “Got somewhere to be?”

  “Sorry. I just want to make sure Mason is okay.”

  “I get you. Shouldn’t be long.”

  And so we went on a nice tour of Indianapolis. I pulled out every trick in the book, did every possible maneuver I could think of. I couldn’t spot anyone following us, but I likely wouldn’t if it were Omar doing the following. He was too good to be spotted even by someone with my skill level.

  No, this was the best that I could do. I could sense Tara’s anxiety next to me, but I couldn’t acknowledge it. I wanted Mason to be as comfortable as possible, but I also wanted Tara to remain alive as long as possible.

  Who knew what would happen to Tara if Omar got his hands on her.

  Finally, after another half hour of fast turns, running lights, and basically insane driving, I pulled up outside the safe house. I parked the car and we climbed out.

  “Home sweet home,” I said.

  “It’s a dump.”

  I laughed. “You’re right.”

  The safe house was a crumbling row home in a line of crumbling row homes in a pretty bad neighborhood, but it was safe and presumably furnished inside.

  “After you, princess,” I said to her.

  She reached into the car, got Mason, and headed up the stoop.

  I followed, my stomach a knot. I was worried I was too close to this, worried that Omar had followed, and worried about what was going to happen with Mason.

  I was going to have to pull my shit together.

  I had work to do.

  Tara

  I woke up with a start, thin light spilling in through the unfamiliar window.

  I looked around the room. White walls, ceiling fan with a bare bulb attached, closet door.

  So this was the safe house. I was chased from my home just to stay in some run-down, empty house in a shit neighborhood. My back was aching from sleeping on an uncomfortable mattress, and the place smelled strange.

  And suddenly I felt a stab of panic. Where was Mason?

  I sat up and sighed. His portable crib was set up on the other side of my bed, and he was sleeping soundly.

  Last night had been a long night. As soon as we got to the safe house, Emory started checking out the place. I scoped out a room and started setting Mason up. Fortunately, he went right to sleep.

  And I wasn’t too far behind him. I hadn’t realized how incredibly exhausted I was, how absolutely tired down to my bones I felt. From the moment all of this started, I felt like I was constantly on the move, getting yanked in every direction.

  Just as I started to stretch and really wake up, I heard Mason begin to stir. Instead of letting him start his usual morning cry, I got up and picked him up.

  “Good morning, little man,” I said, giving him the sniff test. “Let’s get you changed and fed.”

  It didn’t take me long to get him into a fresh diaper and some clean clothes. I envied him a little bit and wished someone would just take my body and put fresh, clean clothes on me.

  Instead, I carried Mason downstairs in the same clothes I’d worn the day before and slept in. I felt gross and worn down, but at least I was safe.

  It was empty downstairs. The living room was wide with a door leading to the kitchen in the back and a short hallway leading toward the basement door and the downstairs bathroom. There was a single blue couch, a coffee table, and an old, enormous television resting on a big, wood TV stand.

  I carried Mason into the kitchen. The wallpaper was yellow and peeling, but it looked relatively clean. The back door was covered in locks, each one firmly shut, which made me feel a little bit better.

  I sat down at the kitchen table. “Hungry?” I asked Mason, and I lifted up my shirt.

  He wasn’t eating long before I heard a creak in the other room. Emory appeared in the doorway, staring down at me, his eyes slightly wide.

  “Never seen a woman breastfeed before?” I asked him.

  “I didn’t realize you did that,” he said.

  “How did you think Mason ate?”

  “Formula, I guess. It was always in a bottle.”

  “Breast milk,” I said, smiling at him. “Don’t tell me you’re squeamish about this?”

  “Not squeamish,” he said, coming into the kitchen. “Just surprised me. Isn’t he too old for that?”

  “How old do you think he is?”

  Emory made a face. “Not sure. Five months?”

  “Close enough. You’re supposed to breastfeed babies for the first six months, or until they want to start eating real food. I think he’s probably almost ready.”

  “He’s in luck then,” Emory said, opening the refrigerator, “because I’m making breakfast.”

  “With what?”

  He pulled out eggs, bacon, pancake batter, orange juice, and coffee. “Well look at this,” he said. “Someone went shopping late last night.”

  I laughed. “Where’d you get all that?”

  “After you fell asleep I found an all-night grocery store.”

  “Thanks. I’m starving.”

  He started cooking then and put on a pot of coffee. Mason finished eating, so I held him in my lap, bouncing him slightly.

  The smell of delicious breakfast food filled the kitchen. I took a deep breath and smiled to myself. Nothing made me feel better than a big mug of coffee and a bunch of delicious breakfast foods. Nothing in the world was better than some nice, thick bacon fried crispy.

  Except for maybe the way Emory could make me feel with just his fingers.

  I sighed, shaking my head. I couldn’t let myself think about that. Sure, we were alone in this house, but the house was pretty bleak. It looked like nobody had been in it in a long time, and the dust was pretty thick. I planned on cleaning it up soon, if at least to make it livable for us.

  Because who knew how long we were going to be staying there.

  “Where’s Travis?” I asked a
fter a bit.

  “Around,” Emory said. “Bacon?”

  “Please. But where’s he staying?”

  Emory put a big plate of bacon, eggs, and pancakes in front of me. I could feel my stomach rumble, and I started eating while trying to keep Mason from stealing all my eggs.

  “In his car,” Emory said. “He’s going to stay out in the field, act as our screen.”

  “Screen?”

  “Sure. Outward defenses. Make sure nothing slips through.”

  “I feel bad. Can’t he come in and eat?”

  “Maybe,” Emory said, “but why risk it? He’s fine out there.”

  “He’s sleeping in a car.”

  Emory sat down with a big plate heaping with food and smirked at me. “We’re SEALs, Tara. We’re trained for this shit.”

  “Training or not, we could make his life easier.”

  “Trust me, he’s fine. Sleeping in his car is easy compared to living out in Pakistan for months at a time.”

  “Do you do that often?” I asked him.

  “Sure. It’s the job. I’ve spent more time abroad than I have in America since becoming a SEAL captain.”

  I cocked my head. “Where have you been?”

  “Afghanistan, Pakistan, a few other places I can’t tell you about. Most of my shit is top secret.”

  “Of course,” I said. “You’re so mysterious.”

  “Not me, princess,” he said. “The government. I just follow orders.”

  “You don’t seem like the type that’s good at following orders.”

  He grinned. “Maybe when they’re coming from lesser men, but I trust my superiors.”

  “Like I’m supposed to trust you?”

  “Exactly,” he said. “Except I don’t want to suck my superior’s cock.”

  “Who said I did?”

  “The way you look at me is more than enough. You don’t need to say it. We both know you keep thinking about my cock deep between your legs.”

  “Can you at least try to pretend like you’re not a crude jerk for one morning?” I asked him, annoyed.

  “I could, but what’s the fun in that?” He dug into his food, eating with a voracious appetite.

  I watched him for a second, curious. If he went out last night to get this food, and he was awake already, that meant he couldn’t have gotten more than a few hours of sleep, and yet he seemed completely alert and awake.

  Maybe that was part of being a SEAL. You were more than just a regular person. You had all the training and all that, but just to start out that training, you had to be special, better than other people.

  Emory never seemed to get tired, never seemed to question himself. He could do things I’d never seen anyone else do. Not to mention he could make me feel things I’d never imagined. He was a crude asshole, but he was also more than that, so much more than just that.

  “Got something to say?” he asked, smirking at me.

  I realized I’d been staring. “No,” I said, getting back to eating.

  “Just enjoying the view. I get it.”

  “What are we doing here, Emory?”

  “Eating breakfast right now, I thought.”

  I made a face. “You know what I mean. What’s the plan?”

  “The plan is, the rest of my squad shows up eventually and they capture Omar. Meanwhile, we lay low and keep you safe.”

  “So we just sit here?”

  “That’s it, princess. What did you expect? We go running after the bad guys, guns blazing, baby tucked under your arm?”

  “No,” I said, getting annoyed, “but I thought we’d be doing something. There are terrorists here.”

  “Yeah, there are. And like I said, they’ll be caught and taken care of.”

  “You can help with that.”

  His eyes narrowed. “My orders are to take care of you.”

  “I’m worried, Emory.”

  “I know, but be careful what you say, princess.”

  I realized that I had crossed a line when I’d suggested that he wasn’t doing enough. He’d already done more than enough. I was just tired and upset. But I wasn’t about to apologize to him and listen to him brag about it for the next few days or however long we’d be staying in this crappy place.

  “Here,” he said after a minute. “Let me take Mason. You can go nap or shower or whatever. Or maybe finish eating.”

  “You have to eat,” I said.

  He stood up. “I’m done.”

  I looked at his plate and it was empty. “Wow. You inhaled that. How is that even possible?”

  “Another little trick I learned. You eat when you can and you do it fast.”

  I couldn’t help but smile and shake my head. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure. Give me the little man.”

  I handed Mason off to him and Emory rocked Mason in his arms.

  “Be careful,” I said.

  “Sure. I’ll make sure I don’t throw him out a window.”

  He walked into the other room, bouncing Mason in his arms.

  I sighed, shaking my head. This was going to be more complicated than I had thought.

  But at least I had delicious food.

  Maybe I could get used to this so long as Emory kept cooking.

  Emory

  I could see the tension behind her eyes. The last few days were taking a toll on her, which was to be expected.

  She wasn’t exactly built to take this sort of stress, not like I fucking was. I knew how much punishment I could take and keep on going, but she had no clue how strong she could be.

  But she’d find out sooner than she wanted, I was willing to bet. The shit wasn’t over, not by a long shot, not while Omar was still out there.

  Her words kept ringing in my head as I bounced Mason on my lap. I could be out there trying to find the terrorists that were in our country. I knew they were planning something, but I didn’t know exactly what yet. And I wasn’t even going to find out, because my orders were to stay with the girl and the baby.

  I hated being a babysitter. But as I bounced Mason in my lap and watched him laugh, I realized that sooner or later I was going to have to do this. He was my son after all. I was going to have to get used to being around him.

  That didn’t mean I was used to being around his mother, though. Far from it. Every time she was around, I felt my cock get hard and my blood boil. All I wanted was to press my thick cock between her legs, deep inside of her, to hear her gasp, hear her beg my name.

  After she was finished eating breakfast, maybe a half hour later, she headed upstairs. I could hear her up there in the shower, the water running. As I bounced Mason, I pictured his mother completely naked, warm water running down her firm skin, her nipples hard, her lips parted.

  More distraction. This whole thing had been one long exercise in seeing whether or not I could control myself, and so far I fucking couldn’t. Not that I really wanted to, but that was the problem. I should keep my hands to myself, but the only place I wanted to put them was between Tara’s legs.

  I looked down at Mason and realized that the little guy was starting to fall asleep. He’d drift off and then wake up when I bounced him. I grinned to myself and stood up.

  I had to admit, he was fucking cute as hell. Watching him nodding off like that made me feel that thing in my chest again, whatever it was supposed to be. I carried Mason up the stairs and into Tara’s bedroom. I slowly placed him down in the crib and watched him as he drifted off to sleep, his little baby chest rising and falling.

  The kid looked like me. That was for sure. And he was probably the easiest baby I’d ever heard of, though I didn’t really know anything about babies.

  The first night I met Tara came back to me then. With the way she moved, the way she fucked, I couldn’t believe that she had been a fucking virgin. I probably wouldn’t have been so rough, so fucking hard on her, if I had known. But she’d loved it, seemed to love having my thick cock slam between her legs. She took me like she was fucking b
uilt for it, like it was the only thing in the world she wanted. The way she looked at me drove me absolutely fucking wild.

  And I couldn’t stop myself. I stood up and moved out of the bedroom. The shower had stopped, so I knocked on the door once.

  “Yeah?” Tara called out.

  I opened the door. “Mason is asleep.”

  She stood there staring at me, her body wrapped in a towel. “Okay. You can’t just come in here.”

  I slipped inside and shut the door behind me. “Tell me to leave.”

  “Emory, what are you doing?”

  I took a step toward her. “Go ahead. Tell me to leave.”

  “Emory.” She bit her lip, taking a half step back.

  I caught her up by the waist and pulled her tight against me. She gasped as I tugged her towel off, letting it drop to the ground.

  Her body was tight and still damp, her skin soft from the warm water. I kissed her neck and she let out a soft moan, not fighting me, not pushing back.

  “Tell me to stop if you don’t want it,” I whispered in her ear.

  “Don’t be an asshole, Emory,” she said.

  I crushed my mouth against hers, kissing her hard. Her tongue entered my mouth as her hands wrapped around my neck.

  I couldn’t stop myself. My cock was fucking hard as hell as I found a condom in my pocket and tossed it onto the counter. Tara began working at my belt, pulling it open and unbuttoning my jeans.

  I pulled off my jeans, kicking them aside, and kissed her neck, her chest, her hard nipple. My hands found her cunt, and she was soaking wet already, dripping and slick.

  “What were you thinking about?” I asked her.

  “What?”

  “In the shower. What were you thinking about?”

  I began to softly rub her clit as I took a handful of her hair and tipped her chin back. She gasped as I easily slid my fingers deep inside her fucking pussy, pushing them deep up her cunt.

  “Shit,” she moaned.

  “Tell me what you were thinking.”

  “You,” she gasped as my fingers rolled back out to her clit, working her. “I was thinking about your cock, about sucking your cock.”