Page 7 of Road Trip With Her Daddy Protector (Love Along Route 14)

Lola

I can’t believe this is happening. I can’t believe I’m having all these feelings.

Gus lays down a blanket, and smiles at me. “I figured we could enjoy ourselves a bit before heading back to the truck.”

I smile wide. “I love that idea.”

Together we lay down on the blanket, and Gus pulls me close to his body. He kisses me, making me forget about all the bad things in the world going on right now.

He rolls on top of me, gazing down at me. “You’re gorgeous, and I’m going to do everything in my power to keep you safe.”

I smile. “I already feel safer with you than I ever have before.” All my troubles melt away and I let Gus hold me.

We remove our clothes, and I have to say, it feels thrilling knowing somebody could happen upon this trail at any moment.

“I want you,” he tells me as he kisses a path across my chest. He trails kisses across my breasts, focusing his attention on each nipple. He sucks one into his mouth, nibbling softly as my body grows needier.

His hand roams over my heated skin, and he pushes a finger at my opening. “You’re so goddamn tight,” he whispers before pushing it inside me.

I spread my legs, trying to open myself up more for him. “It feels weird,” I say, feeling the intrusion.

“I’m going to make it feel so much better,” he whispers across my breasts as he pumps his finger inside me. He sucks a nipple into his mouth as his hand works my pussy over and over.

His thumb pushes against my clit and I moan out.

He licks his lips. “I’ll never stop wanting this.”

I squirm a little as his eyes burn straight through me. “Gus.” His name is on repeat, and I don’t think I could think of another word if I tried.

I feel safe in his arms.

My body builds toward an orgasm, and he hasn’t even entered me yet.

“You’re so needy. Such a needy little girl.” He pushes his finger deeper inside me, and I moan even louder.

I glance into the sky, the clouds passing slowly as I moan again. My body loses control as I pump my hips.

“That’s it, baby. Ride my finger.”

I do as he says, my body building and building. I come as I squeeze my eyes shut. I shout out, “Gus.”

He holds me as my body unravels. “Keep coming,” he tells me as he positions his thickness at my entrance.

He removes his hand and pushes the tip of his dick inside me.

I spread my legs even wider, wrapping them around his waist.

“That’s it. Open yourself up for your daddy.”

I smile at the name he’s given himself. I like it. A daddy protector, taking care of me. “Daddy,” I whisper, liking the way it rolls off my tongue.

“You’re my little girl and I’m never going to let anyone hurt you.”

I trust him. I believe him.

He pushes deeper inside me, his hand still working my clit as he does.

“You’re too big,” I whine. “Too deep.”

He stalls, his eyes connecting with mine. “Baby, I know you can handle me. Breathe,” he whispers on repeat. “Just breathe, baby.”

I grip onto him as I try to relax. The intrusion is too much, but I close my eyes and do as he says. I breathe.

He rocks his body gently in tune with mine, and after a few moments it no longer feels weird and starts to feel good.

“Yes,” I moan as he starts to move a little faster.

“You’re doing such a good job, little girl.” He pumps his hips faster, rocking his dick further inside me.

I squeeze my legs around him, moving in speed with him. Soon my body is once again building to that pleasure point. “Ah, yes,” I moan again, his body pressing mine down into the earth.

I like the feeling of him on top of me. Protecting me. Keeping me safe. Daddy’s little girl.

“I’m so close to coming deep inside you.” He keeps pushing, fucking me senseless.

“Please do it.” I want him to fill me up. I want his DNA mixed with mine. I want it so badly. “Please,” I whine.

“I’ll do anything you ever want me to do.” He keeps pushing his thickness inside me, and my body comes alive.

“Yes, Gus, Daddy, yes…” my words are incoherent, and Gus smiles down at me.

“I’m loving you, baby.” He grips onto me tighter as my body releases once more, my orgasm crashing down around me.

“Yes, Daddy.” My body’s spent, and I drop my arms to the ground as Gus braces himself above me.

“I’m so close.” He pumps a few more time and then grunts through his own orgasm. “That’s it,” he whispers. “Take all of me.”

Our breathing is labored as he moves off of me. We clean ourselves up as our bodies calm. He kisses me as we pack our things, and I feel like this is the start of something amazing.

Something forever.

The gravel road twists and climbs through a cathedral of towering pines before spilling us out onto a small plateau ringed by mountains.

Morning has stretched into late afternoon, and the sun hangs low—an amber coin caught between the blue-green peaks.

My breath catches when Gus steers the truck around one final bend and the cabin appears, sturdy and timeless, like it grew from the earth instead of being built.

Massive cedar logs interlock at the corners, their warm, honey-brown grain glowing in the slanting light.

A stone chimney rises along one side, thick as an ancient oak trunk, and thin wisps of smoke curl lazily from the flue where Gus must have left the flue open the last time he was here.

A wide porch wraps three sides, its railing carved with simple mountain motifs—bear prints, pinecones, crescent moons.

Flower boxes overflow with late-summer petunias in reckless shades of fuchsia and violet, and the faint scent of sap and moss hangs in the crisp air.

It is achingly beautiful… and blessedly remote.

“This is it,” Gus says, voice a rough murmur as he kills the engine. “Home base until the situation with Tyler is handled.”

Home. The word settles over me like a quilt, heavy with promise and safety. I press my palm to the dashboard for a moment, grounding myself. For the first time since I fled Florida, I truly believe I might be out of Tyler’s reach.

Gus hops from the cab and circles to my door before I can grab the handle. He opens it, offering a hand. I take it, heart flipping at the easy strength of his grip. His thumb brushes my knuckles—a tiny touch, yet it makes my pulse dance.

“Welcome to Saddleback,” he says, gesturing toward the expanse of woods behind the cabin. “Nearest neighbor is eight miles down the mountain. Cell signal’s spotty and there’s only one road in.”

“Perfect,” I breathe, drinking in the hush of rustling branches and distant birdsong. “It’s beautiful, Gus.”

He gives a soft, almost shy smile that melts the last of my nerves. “Wait till you see inside.”

But first, unloading. We spend twenty minutes ferrying supplies from the truck: duffels of clothes, a cooler stuffed with groceries, a battered crate full of Gus’s tools and spare parts, and a small, locked case I’ve learned not to ask about.

Every so often Gus scans the tree line, eyes narrowed, warrior-sharp, before returning to the task at hand.

The tension in his shoulders reminds me we didn’t come here for vacation.

When the truck bed is finally empty, I wipe sweat from my brow with the back of my wrist. “Do you think Tyler could find us way out here?”

Gus sets the crate on the porch with a dull thud.

“Highly unlikely,” he says, voice low. “Mason and Decker are tracking him in Florida. They’ll keep me updated.

But I’m not taking chances.” He nods toward the case at his feet; I recognize the matte-black finish of a gun safe.

“I’ll do a perimeter sweep after we’re settled.

Motion sensors, fresh batteries in the trail cams. If anyone so much as sneezes inside three hundred yards, we’ll know. ”

A shiver skates down my spine—half fear, half awe. “You really thought of everything.”

“It’s my job to think of everything,” he answers, but when our eyes meet the hardness slips, replaced by warmth. “And my job to keep you safe.”

We carry the last bags inside. The interior is all knotty-pine walls and exposed beams, the air tinged with wood smoke and lemon oil.

Antique lanterns hang from wrought-iron hooks, their amber bulbs casting cozy pools of light.

A river-stone hearth dominates the living room, fronted by a deep leather sofa and a Navajo-pattern blanket draped across the back.

Everything feels solid, permanent—like the cabin has withstood a hundred storms and will weather a hundred more.

“Kitchen’s through there,” Gus says, nodding toward an archway. “Two bedrooms upstairs, plus a loft. Generator’s full, and I’ve got solar panels on the south roof. We can stay off-grid for a while.”

I trail my fingers over a polished cedar banister. “It’s amazing. I can’t believe you built this.”

He shrugs, a little embarrassed. “Picked away at it after deployments. Gave me something to do with my hands.”

I laugh softly. “Your idea of a ‘handyman project’ is most people’s dream home.”

He lifts one shoulder. “Come on—I’ll show you your room.”

Upstairs, the hallway smells like fresh sawdust and lavender.

He opens a heavy timber door to reveal a room bathed in dappled light.

A quilt of moss-green and cream covers a queen-size bed.

In the corner, a reading nook holds an overstuffed chair beneath a dormer window.

Bookshelves line the wall, already half-filled with classics and field guides.

“I stocked a few titles I thought you’d like,” Gus says, almost shy. “Bronte, Austen… some modern stuff too.”

Emotion swells in my chest. He remembers my love of reading, something Tyler mocked as “boring.” I turn, intending only to thank him, but the earnest tenderness in his hazel eyes pulls me in. I rise on tiptoe and brush a kiss across his mouth.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

His hands settle at my waist. “You’re welcome.” The syllables rumble through me like distant thunder.

We linger a moment longer—breathing the same air, hearts righting themselves—then he releases me. “Let’s get the food put away.”

Downstairs, we move in domestic rhythm: me unpacking dry goods into rough-hewn cabinets, Gus stowing perishables in a propane fridge. He sets a cast-iron kettle on the gas range, ignites the burner with a click. Soon the kitchen is filled with steam and the earthy scent of Earl Grey.

Cup warming my hands, I perch on a barstool while Gus flips open his phone—a sturdy satellite model—and sends a text to Mason. He sees my curious look and reads aloud: “Made it to Ridge. Perimeter secure. Any movement on TC?”

I blow across my tea. “Do you really think he’ll chase me this far?”

Gus leans against the counter, arms crossed. The sleeves of his thermal shirt cling to biceps that still make me blush. “Tyler strikes me as the kind who hates losing. But he’s also sloppy. Mason finds patterns, exploits them. If Tyler leaves Florida, we’ll know.”

I nod, comforted but still wary. “And until then?”

“Until then, we live.” He steps closer, hooking a finger under my chin so I meet his gaze. “We hike, fish, read by the fire. We make this cabin ours.”

The word ours thrums through me like a plucked string. I set my mug aside and wrap my arms around his waist, pressing my cheek to his chest. His heartbeat thuds steady beneath my ear, a drum I could fall asleep to.

By twilight the truck is empty, groceries stored, linens fresh on the bed. Gus fires up the generator long enough to pump well water, then shuts it down to save fuel. Solar batteries click into place with a reassuring hum.

On the porch we share a simple dinner—grilled cheese sandwiches crisped in cast iron, paired with tomato soup that steams in enamel mugs. Night settles around us, thick with pine resin and cricket song. In the distance an owl hoots, its mournful call echoing off the ridgeline.

Gus sits beside me on a cedar bench, one arm draped along the back. Lantern light throws amber across his sharp cheekbones, the silver at his temples glinting like moonlit metal. I reach over, tracing the strong line of his jaw.

“What’s going on inside that head of yours?” I ask softly.

He exhales, turning so our knees brush. “Strategy. Entry points, sight lines. I keep running scenarios.” A wry smile tugs his mouth. “Old habits.”

“Do any of those scenarios involve Tyler showing up here?”

“Worst-case planning, yes. But I built this place like a fortress.” He taps the railing. “Reinforced window frames, door bars, hidden panic room in the pantry. Cameras feed to my phone.”

I blink. “A panic room?”

“Small crawl space behind the shelves,” he explains. “Steel plate walls, coded latch. If something happens and I’m not here, you lock yourself in and hit the beacon inside. Mason’s team gets an instant alert.”

The thought of hiding while Gus faces danger alone sends a chill through me. “I don’t want to be locked away while you’re out there.”

His gaze softens, but his answer is firm. “Your safety is non-negotiable, Lola. Promise me.”

Reluctantly, I nod. “Okay. I promise.”

He leans in, pressing a kiss to my forehead—a benediction and a brand. “Good girl.”

Heat blooms across my skin. We sit in silence a while longer, watching stars prick the sky open. Eventually Gus stands and reaches for my hand. “Bed?”

My pulse flutters. “Bed.”

Upstairs, he follows me into my room. Night air through the window ruffles the curtains. Gus closes and latches it, then does the same with the one across the hall. Satisfied, he returns and draws me into his arms.

“As much as I’d love to stay, I should bunk in the loft,” he murmurs against my hair.

I clutch his shirt. “Stay.”

A beat of hesitation, then he nods, stripping down to a white tee and flannel pants. I change into one of his shirts—soft cotton that hangs mid-thigh and smells like cedar and soap—then crawl beneath the quilt. The mattress dips under his weight as he joins me.

Wrapped in Gus’s embrace, surrounded by mountains older than memory, I could almost believe Tyler Cole is just a bad dream. But before sleep claims me, a question whispers through the dark.

“Gus?”

“Hmm?”

“If he finds us… promise you won’t face him alone.”

His arms tighten. “We’ll face him together, sweetheart. And we’ll win.”

With that vow settling over us like armor, I finally drift to sleep—knowing that wherever this road leads, Gus and I will walk it side by side.