Page 60 of Daddy’s Hunted Bride

But I’m not sure I care.

Once his cock is nice and slick, he guides it to my bottom hole, the thick head gently prodding at my entrance. Dragging in a deep breath, I force myself to relax for him as he pushes forward.

“That’s my good girl,” he purrs, rocking gently against me. “You know how to take me, don’t you, little fox? Such a good little baby you are.”

His words feel like praise and denigration at the same time, and both somehow make me wetter, needier as he works his cock into my aching bottom hole. When a whine slips free, he shushes me again as he brings his thumb to my clit and massages the swollen little nub. Pleasure rockets through me and I arch up, taking him deeper, savoring the burning pain that comes with being impaled on his thick length.

“Fuck, Nessie,” he groans, and my heart leaps at the use of my nickname. He’s only ever called me Vanessa before now, and for reasons I can’t explain it thrills me to hear him use the name my friends bestowed upon me. As if I really am a part of his family and no longer simply his captive.

More fucked-up feelings I’m not quite ready to examine too closely.

“Daddy, please. Fuck me. Harder, please, Daddy.”

His laugh is strained, another little thing that pleases me, though I’m not sure why. “You’re killing me, baby. I’m trying to be gentle with you.”

“I don’t want gentle. I want you.”

My words seem to snap something inside him. Gripping both my knees, he shoves them toward my chest at the same time he drives into my bottom. Electric jolts of pain shoot through me, dragging a shocked cry from my chest even as I arch up to meet his thrusts.

As much as logical me appreciates him using the lube and taking his time, there is another side of me at work. A feral, primal side that doesn’t want pretty words and gentle touches. That side of me wants to be claimed, to be fucked into a sobbing, pathetic mess of a Little girl.

And Daddy is going to give that part of me exactly what she wants.

Letting my head fall back against the pillow, I surrender to him. To the pain and the pleasure as Daddy fucks my poor, sore bottom with violent thrusts that threaten to tear me open. I let go of all the worry, all the guilt, all the anxious planning I’ve held so tightly to since I first boarded that plane to Colorado.

“Touch yourself for me, baby,” Daddy growls, his voice low and gravelly. “Make yourself come while you’ve got this pretty bottom stuffed full of Daddy’s cock.”

Even if I’d wanted to disobey, my body seems to have a mind of its own. Before I even register the decision to do so, my hand moves down to my pussy, and I gasp at the touch of my own fingers to my aching clit.

“That’s it, little one. Show Daddy what a good job you can do, making yourself come.”

His words spur me on and my movements turn frantic as I desperately work my clit, driving myself closer and closer to that cliff’s edge.

Just when I’m teetering there, Daddy drives into me with such force the pain rips through me, shoving me straight off that cliff. Someone screams, the sound both agony and ecstasy, but I can barely hear it over the pounding of my own heartbeat.

“Fuck!” With one final thrust, Daddy holds still, emptying himself into my bottom, filling up that most secret place. Collapsing beside me, he pulls me into his arms, pressing a kiss to my hair as I struggle for breath.

“There we go,” he murmurs, breathless, his voice muffled by my hair. “No more of those yucky, guilty feelings. Yeah?”

My lips curl against his chest and when I sigh, I realize I can breathe easily for what feels like the first time in months.

“No, Daddy. No more yucky feelings.”

Dane

My babygirl is in the living room, playing a board game with her cousins while her uncles watch over them. It is the perfect scene of familial bliss, something my siblings and I have wanted for longer than I can account for.

And yet, something just feels… off.

Restless, I make my way down to Colt’s office and enter without knocking. My brother watches with a raised brow as I drop into one of his plush visitor’s chairs.

“Something on your mind?”

“No. Maybe. I don’t know.” Annoyed with myself, I blow out a breath and rake my fingers through my hair. “Everything is great. Nessie hasn’t tried to run in days, and this morning we had… I don’t even know what we had. It was almost sweet, whatever it was.”

Grinning, Colt leans back in his chair. “And you don’t do sweet.”

His words dig under my skin like mites. “I can be sweet.”