by Dani Wyatt
I’ve never had that want before.
No, it’s not a want.
I need to breed this woman. I need her to take all of me, to make us a family, to grow my child inside her. And I want that over and over until the bedrooms are full and our home is a mess of chaos and joy.
Her back arches as I grind us together, listening to the sloppy wet mess of flesh between us.
“Such a naughty girl. You get so wet for Daddy, don’t you?”
“Yes.” She mutters, her head falling forward and her hair cascading in a golden waterfall around her face.
“You’ll always be honest with me from now on, won’t you? You won’t hold back. You feel me taking you. Give all of yourself to me, Babybear. I want it all, right now. Tell me I have all of you. Tell Daddy.”
I fuck into her mercilessly, knowing that even replying to me right now is a challenge. But that’s what I want. This sort of love won’t be easy. It’s half joy and half madness and I cannot separate one from the other.
“Tell me.” I move her body up and down on my cock as it throbs to release inside of her, but I won’t allow that. Not until I get what I need.
“You have all of me, Daddy. I give it all to you. All of me.”
Her words send shivers through me. The sincerity lights me up inside.
“Goodgirl.” I slow my movements, reaching down between us to spread her outer lips and find her clit with my thumb. As I start rubbing in a circular motion, she pants and sighs. “Does that feel good, baby? You like when Daddy touches you this way, don’t you? You like when he’s inside you.”
“Um hm.” She moans, shifting her hips up and down in time with the movement of my thumb.
Her mouth falls open and she goes silent, fingers digging into me as I feel her inner walls tighten and release. My heart leaps in my chest at the sight of her like this. Knowing I’m the source of her pleasure.
It feeds me.
“That’s my girl. Slow, just like that. Squeeze me, then release.” I brush her hair back, then grip it with my other hand and pull her head back so I can see her face. “Again, slow like this. Squeeze me from inside, baby. Tighten...you want to cum, don’t you?”
I’ve learned her signals. She gets very quiet, her legs spread a bit wider and her movements become deliberate. Concentrated.
She doesn’t answer, and my soul needs her to ask.
To plead for her pleasure.
“Ask for it.” I seethe through gritted teeth, because it’s hell holding my own orgasm back. “Ask or I’ll stop.”
I pause all our movements for a split second and listen to her pained gasp.
“Please... Please, please, now. I want to cum...oh, God, I want to cum now.”
She is wet as hell and I grind my thumb down on her clit, pulling her hair and slamming upward as much as I can as her hands move to the sides of my face and grip, our eyes locked together.
“Now, Babybear. Cum for me now.”
We go off together. Her body flexes and jerks on my cock and I lean my head back and let out a roar of relief.
She’s here.
She’s mine.
I’ll never let her go.
And anyone that tries to take her from me will pay the ultimate price. And there will be pain.
So much pain.
S E V E N T E E N
Ginger
THE REST OF THE RIDE to the airfield, and even on the plane, we talked.
About my family, about what happened, about who I used to be.
The good.
The bad.
The ugly.
For us both.
Once we were home, Stas picked me up, carried me to our suite and ran a bath for us both. He washed me tenderly, my pussy sore from the rough pounding he gave me in the car. The sun was just losing its height in the sky. It decided tonight it would cast out the most divine orange and red highlights on the horizontal clouds.
We’d fucked the first time in the car with me on top. But Daddy wasn’t done.
He’d dragged me by my hair outside the car, still naked, shirt off, glistening with sweat. The park was deserted but it still heightened the moment being in a public place when he bent me over a picnic table and took me hard from behind.
Before he came inside me again, he flipped me up and laid me out there, under the open sky, and ate my pussy until I came more times than I can count.
But he still wasn’t done. He finished by fucking me so hard laying there that he had to carry me back to the car. My legs were of no use.
It’s so interesting and wonderful how he can change like that. One minute he can be almost an animal, hell bent on fulfilling his own needs, pulling my hair, telling me I’m here for his pleasure, his use.
Then just as quickly he’s worshipping me. Thanking me for being in his life. Telling me I’m the sweetest, best part of every day.
After the bath, he’d dressed me in a onesie with ‘Daddy’s Girl’ across the chest and pink trim around the arm and leg openings. He got down on his knees and put my feet in little cotton socks with lace trim around the ankles. For him, it was what he calls his Daddy’s robe.
Watching him now as he moves about the kitchen so carefully, I’m in awe. I just love him so much I still sometimes don’t understand it.
He’s an amazing cook. It’s not breakfast time, but breakfast not at breakfast time is sometimes even better.
He’s preparing me a vegetable omelet with avocado and feta cheese because he knows it’s my favorite.
He turns over his shoulder to glance at me as I sit wearing my onesie, knowing he is looking at my nipples poking through the white fabric. “Drink your tea, Babybear.”
“Yes, Daddy.”
He’s big on tea. His favorite is Earl Gray. Thinks it has healing powers both physical and emotional.
I’m not one to argue just by nature, and I’ve found he’s usually right about most things including the tea.
I’ve not been sick a day since I moved in here, right up until when I hurled at the cabin. When we got back to the house and he made us both a cup of tea, from the first sip I felt myself calming.
It’s getting late and it started sprinkling on the drive home from the airfield. Now the rain is pummeling the west facing windows and making the house seem extra cozy with the fire Stas built in the kitchen fireplace before he started cooking.
I raise the cup to my lips and draw in the warm liquid. It’s tipped with honey and the sweet flavor reminds me of the time Daddy dripped honey on me before spending hours kissing and licking it from every inch of my body.
“I missed my salon appointment.” I tug my lips to the side, thankful that right now, that’s what I can think about. Things will get back to normal.
“I know, baby. As soon as you feel up to it, we will reschedule, and I promise I’ll go with you. I want to watch. Be there to make sure everything is done the way you’d like.”
I take a deep breath, then exhale on a smile. He’s so handsome standing there. I can imagine him sitting in the salon with me. My big, rugged Russian man making sure his Babybear gets the right sort of unicorn hair color.
“Thank you, Daddybear. Maybe you can call tomorrow and see when we can get an appointment?”
“Consider it done.” He smiles back and a sense of joyful contentment washes over me.
The smell of his cooking has my stomach growling. I hadn’t realized how long it had been since I’d eaten anything until he’d asked.
“So,” he turns again, this time with my omelet and a buttered piece of rye toast on the plate and placing it in front of me. “Time to eat and talk.”
I nod with a bite already in my mouth, savoring the flavors and how perfect I feel when he takes care of me like this.
“What about you? Aren’t you going to eat?” I ask, my mouth still half full of the wonderful food, shoveling another forkful inward before he answers.
“Not now, Babybear. I’m not hungry. We have some serious subject matter to cover.” Stas leans agai
nst the counter, bracing himself on the heels of his hands to each side.
The look in his eyes makes me shiver. Even in his robe he’s intimidating. He looks even bigger than usual tonight and I think it’s just knowing more about him now that’s causing the change in my perception.
Seeing the other side of him back at the cabin and knowing there is a part of him that is dangerous has fueled both my awe and confusion about this man I love.
He starts as I take another bite. “I lied in a big way. I own that shit and I’m going to make amends to you, my love. I wasn’t always like this. It’s been about ten years and before you...” He pauses, licking his bottom lip, pulling it inward then letting it go as he continues. “Long before you, when my parents were still alive and I was a young man, I was peaceful. Well, I was always big. Tough. And everyone on the side of town where I grew up thought challenging me was some sort of rite of passage. I learned to fight. But shit, baby.” He coughs into a closed fist, then finishes. “Where I grew up, the neighborhood, mostly Russian immigrants, we were fucking born fighting. It was like, eat your breakfast, go outside and find a fight. Unless bones were broken, or someone ended up in the hospital, it was no harm, no foul. It was just our culture.”
“Your parents lived here? I don’t mean here in the house, but here in America?” I counter, putting my fork down and wiping the corners of my mouth with the linen napkin he set next to my plate. “But you said they lived in Russia. Well, that they died there.”
He shakes his head and pushes off from the counter, coming around to take a seat on the barstool at the counter next to me before answering.
“There’s truth in there and again I’ll own my shit, there’s some bullshit too. Lying has been a way of life for me too, baby. It’s self-preservation. And yes, I am a different man with you. I want to be a different man because of you. But I guess the truth is, change happens in increments, not all at once. I’m never going to stop trying. I’m going to do better. Be better. But my sins of the past have to be that, in the past—otherwise we will never be able to move forward.”
He scans my face and I push the plate away, having only eaten about five bites. Must be the conversation, because the wonderful breakfast he’s made suddenly doesn’t sit so well in my belly.
The rain whips up outside as I push my question forward.
“Yes, but then tell me the truth about your parents. Your family. You’ve said so many times, family is everything. Family loyalty. Protection. How you don’t walk away from family.” I stall on that last part, knowing now that he understands at least a part of me he didn’t before.
I not only walked away from my family, I ran. And there’s no loyalty I feel for them at all. It’s just cold conviction that leaving was the best thing I could have done for myself. I gave no thought to what was good for them.
“My parents were good people. Hard working. I was born here a few years after they arrived. Not a great time to come to the U.S. from Russia, but they had connections that smuggled them in when there was barely a loaf of bread to be had back home. They raised me well. I was smart. Got a scholarship to Mass Tech, then another one to attend law school. I finished all of my schooling in five years and had passed the bar with one of the highest scores recorded. I was recruited by the CIA but turned it down. Not enough money and too many restrictions. Instead, a firm that helped contract with the government for placing people in witness protection found me and made me an offer. I excelled. We were living the American dream. Bought them a house. As for me, I was living the playboy life.” He studies me for a moment. “Sorry, baby, I don’t want to hurt you, but I wasn’t a great guy for a long time. I hurt a lot of people in different ways. I was a bit of a cad.”
There’s a twitch in my heart at those last words. Even thinking of him with anyone else before me hurts.
The man I know is so caring. Sure, he has his dark side, but I imagined how far that darkness could extend. He reaches over and runs his hand on my neck, settling it on the side with a slight squeeze which sends a shiver through me.
“I was living high. Running around, making a shit ton of money. Going to clubs. The whole package. Then, one night, I took two girls—sisters—home from the club. Well, we were going home and I ran a red light. We got hit broadside by a truck and they both—”
He drops his face and the hand along my throat squeezes again. There are no tears, but a glaze over his eyes tells me they’re not far away. Whatever this is, it still hurts for him. It still feels fresh. I want to help him, but don’t know how, so I reach out a hand and he takes it gratefully, squeezing my fingers like a lifeline.
I see him steel himself for what he has to say, knowing that he needs to say it now or he never will. “Neither one made it, Babybear. I was charged with felony manslaughter. My firm got me off on a technicality, but I wasn’t the same.” He meets my eyes. “And my life was in constant danger. The girls...they were daughters of a high-level mob boss. Ironically, not a dissimilar situation to the one Leonard Calfus found himself in.”
“That man only has himself to blame.” I look deep into Daddy’s eyes, letting him know that I’m on his side. “None of this was your fault.”
He shakes his head. “I’m not so sure about that. I moved my parents back to Russia. Things were different there and I set them up to live a good life, everything they needed. I disappeared and became someone else. I had to. Both in order to keep living and to reinvent myself, or try to. Didn’t work completely. I had connections in the underworld from my time at the firm. The rest is history. Dirty history. My parents died a month after I moved them and that set me back on a path of not caring much about anything. It was a car accident. Another irony not lost on me. They were ashamed of who I’d become before they left. What happened to me. But they always loved me. They didn’t want to leave, thought I was ashamed of them, but I couldn’t tell them everything. I had to lie. To protect them. They made me vulnerable. Didn’t do any good. I thought I had it all, but everything I had turned to ashes. I won’t let that happen again. I can’t, baby.” He stares deep into my eyes, forcing me to draw a sharp breath. “It would end me. Losing you, it would end me. Do you get that?”
I’m not sure if it’s listening to the sound of his voice, the way I’ve never heard it before, so sad, so desperate. Or maybe it’s the omelet just isn’t sitting right...but I’m not feeling well at all.
“So now what do we do?” I ask, because I’m not sure in all honesty what’s going to happen to us now that so much truth is out. I’d already told him in bits and pieces, in the car, on the plane and in the bath about my family.
Who I was before I left. The things they did to try to force me to be this perfect Barbie that my grandfather and my family thought I should be. Thought all women should be.
I told him how I left, that I really had no feelings for my family. I saw the flash of something else in his eyes, something he obviously thought he’d kept hidden from me, even while he said he understood and that he would stand by me no matter what.
“We keep going. We concentrate on us. And you let me figure out some stuff. And baby...” He places both hands on either side of my neck as he gets to his feet. I have to strain back to look up at him as he holds my gaze. “I lied to protect you. Do you get that? Same with my parents. It may have been the wrong move, but it was for the right reasons. I tried to protect you, not hurt you.”
“Yes, but do you see now, that doesn’t work? People get hurt. That’s life. And the lying—both of us, I’m including myself—it only keeps distance between us. You’re my person. Someone I never dreamed I could have, but here you are. How do we fix this? How can we be us the way we want to be?”
He swallows hard and brings his lips to rest on the part of my hair and I feel his warm breath there.
“I’ll fix this. If it takes every breath I have, I will fix us. Give us the life I never dreamed about. I never thought something like this was possible, Babybear. I’m not losing you. Or us. Or
this. You have to still trust me. Can you do that? Can you trust me?”
He pulls back and stares down at me taking his fingers and fiddling with my glasses. My belly flipping over from the pleading I see in his eyes.
I nod as a wave of heat cascades down my body.
“I can. But Daddy,” I whisper. “I’m sick.”
E I G H T E E N
Stas
THERE WAS A TIME, NOT long ago, that I clung to the smallest part of me that I felt was still human.
The job I’d chosen after the accident put me in contact with every kind of sub-human I could have imagined. But truth is even before that I’d lost my humanity.
And, although I’d never pulled the trigger myself, I’d done enough to know that I prematurely ended lives by my actions or inactions.
And if all that wasn’t enough, I was simply dead inside. I had no one left in this world I cared about. The nights of going after one female conquest after another were long past and had brought me no false sense of anything positive for years.
So, there I was. Doing my job.
Sitting in my study, staring at the wall. Walking the perimeter of my property in the middle of the night when the nightmares wouldn’t end.
And one day, I walked into a greenhouse and my entire world changed.
Even in the short time we’ve been together, I didn’t truly realize how much one person can change another.
It’s been four days since I picked Ginger up off the floor of the cabin, but it might as well be a lifetime.
She was sick on and off for the better part of two days before I went to the drugstore and bought the pregnancy test. And the world I thought had changed so much...that was nothing compared to now.
I’m going to be a father.
And I’m no longer the same person I was two days ago.
The harsh reality of the world I’ve created hit me when I looked at that plastic stick with two blue lines.
I have to do better.
I have to be better.
No more excuses. I will make a life for us that will make them proud.