Page 86 of Wanting What’s Wrong

Four

Jenna

B y the time we leave the shop, the sun’s dipping down from high in the sky and my legs barely work. I’m leaking again. My panties are soaked. And I can still taste his kiss. Who knew the flavor of milk and tongue and sin was going to be my undoing?

Cal opens the truck door and helps me climb in, but his eyes never leave mine. There’s a promise there. A warning, too. I’m not sure which one makes me wetter.

The drive back is silent. Except for the way I breathe. Except for the way I squirm. Every bump in the road makes my nipples throb. Every look from him makes my thighs clench.

When we get to the ranch, he kills the engine but doesn’t move. Just sits there. Watching me.

"You hungry?"

It’s not food he’s offering. I know it. My body knows it.

I nod .

He gets out, walks around, and opens my door.

I slide down, legs shaky as he guides me to the floor, and I’m already out of his arms heading for the door. The second my sandals hit the porch, he’s behind me. Big Daddy. Hot Daddy.

Dangerous Cowboy Daddy.

Inside, the kitchen smells like old wood smoke, like it’s soaked into the walls from decades of the cast iron stove heating the house. He sets my backpack down, opens the fridge, and pulls out a bottle of water.

Then he turns, holding it to my lips.

“Drink. You need to super hydrate if you’re gonna produce enough for me. I’m not a fucking baby, you need enough to fill me up, so we’re going to get you on a full new regime. You’re my little milker now.”

He tips the bottle upward as the cool liquid spreads over my tongue. I swallow greedily, unaware of how thirsty I was until the water washes down.

He pulls it away, letting me breathe, the hardness around his eyes softening as he holds my throat in his other hand.

“I want to feel you take in what I’m giving you. I’m going to be the one responsible for all your needs from now on. And you will eat what I make for you. No more cereal, especially when I make you a happy plate of a healthy breakfast.”

I finish the next swallow as he lowers the bottle again.

“You remember that?” Embarrassment heats my cheeks.

“Yeah, I fucking remember that. You stabbed me in the heart that day. And many of the days after, but it’s okay. I’ll take all your demons, baby. I’m gonna slay them one at a time. No fucking reason anymore for me to pretend otherwise.”

I take a minute to let that settle in. Realizing my teasing and bratty behavior didn’t go unnoticed has me regretting some of the ways I tested him. Seeing if he would react the way most of the other men that moved through the revolving door of our lives had .

He never did though.

“Now, strip.”

The words hit me like lightning. My breath stalls. My heart jumps, then settles to a steady flutter. My belly clenches, but there’s no protest in me.

I comply, tugging off my cami, pulling down my shorts and sliding them over my feet after kicking off my sandals. My bra is soaked through as I reach behind to unclasp it, letting my breasts fall free. They’re full again. Red, heavy, desperate.

He watches every motion. His jaw ticks. His knuckles go white on the bottle.

“Panties too.”

I slide them down and step out of them, cheeks flaming at the dark wet spot, the stickiness evident on the light gray fabric. I’m blushing, but I’m not embarrassed. I’m desperate.

He takes the last drink from the water bottle and tosses it onto the counter.

“Kitchen counter,” he growls. “Hands flat. Ass up.”

My feet move before my brain can catch up.

The worn wooden counter is smooth under my palms, a sharp contrast to the rough way my heart is beating against my ribs. I bend and present, not even questioning the orders.

He grunts behind me.

“Look at you,” he says, voice wrecked. “Dripping. Leaking. Sweet little body begging for Daddy’s cock.”

I whimper.

His hand slides over my ass, down my thigh, then back up to cup my heat.

“You need to come, baby girl?”

“Please,” I whisper. “Yes, please, Daddy.”

That’s all it takes.

He sinks to his knees behind me, and the first swipe of his tongue makes me cry out .

He eats like he’s starving. Like I’m his last meal. Like he needs my pussy to live.

“Such a good girl,” he groans, his voice muffled by my flesh. “Taste so fuckin’ sweet.”

I grip the counter harder. My legs shake. I’m close. So close I could scream.

“Don’t you come yet,” he growls. “Not till I’m inside you.”

I sob. “Please. I need it.”

He stands. One hand on my hip, the other sliding between my thighs to rub slow circles.

“I said no,” he growls. “You’ll take Daddy’s cock first. You’ll come when I say.”

He unzips, the sound a low rasp that feels like it vibrates right through every layer of skin and flesh right into my bones. Not gentle. Not hesitant.

“You think you’re gonna die if you don’t get what you want when you want it? Such a dramatic little girl. Always were.”

“A few minutes isn’t exactly cruel. I’ll live.” I add a bored sigh on the end.

He chuckles, a sound that sends a shiver down my spine. “Oh, darling, you have no idea what I consider cruel.” He tests the tightness, his thick head nudging my entrance. “So fucking tight. Been saving yourself for your old man, have you?”

My thighs tremble, already slick. A shameful, desperate wetness to the idea that he’s the father I never had and now, he’s going to fuck me like he owns me.

“You knew. Don’t pretend this is a surprise. ”

He pushes forward a little more and I wince, my insides clenching. “You think I didn’t keep an eye on you when I was gone? I have people. You remember seeing a guy in a blue Chevy with flames down the sides? Tall guy, fifties, ball cap.”

I do. I wondered if he was coming around for my mom.

A shudder runs through me, starting in my toes. “You were stalking me from prison?”

“You bet your ass.”

More pressure, more pain, separating me, easing inside while I squeeze my eyes shut.

“Been a good girl for me while I was away. I was fucking patient, waiting for you.”

My breath hitches. It isn’t painful, not yet, but it is…intense. A stretching, a pulling, like a blunt instrument trying to push somewhere it shouldn’t be.

My muscles clench around him, a desperate attempt to hold onto the last vestiges of my girlhood.

“You don’t have to be gentle,” I breathe. “I want to feel it. I want to remember it.”

He shifts, stretching me further. “I’ll do this how I want to do this.”

My hips arch instinctively. “God, I’m so… I need it. Like a breath I can’t take, please, please .”

He chuckles, a low rumble that vibrates through me. “That’s my good girl. ”

Then, with a slow, controlled thrust, he buries his thickness inside me. The lights seem to flicker, I slap my hands on the table, screaming for something, someone.

So. Fucking. Deep.

A scream rips from my lungs as he pulls out, pushes back in, more, then more, then more.

“There it is,” he says, his voice a low growl. “Claimed by your old man. Your step-father, now your fucking Daddy.”

My muscles clench around him, holding him, keeping him. “Don’t stop.”

He shifts and rocks, settling into me, and the burn intensifies. “You like that? Taking all of that fat cock you’ve been teasing for so long.”

“It’s…perfect,” I manage, my voice a little shaky. “It feels like…everything is opening up.”

He is taking the last bits of me, sliding in and out, darts of pain expanding in my belly, his weight pressing down on me. “Good. Let it open. I’m gonna fill up that belly of yours. Make it match those tits.”

I scream into the counter, overwhelmed, owned .

And when he says, “Come for me now, baby girl,” I do.

Loud. Shaking. Milking his cock with every pulse of my body.

He holds me there, buried deep, groaning my name like a curse.

And I know he’s not letting go.

Not tonight.

Not ever.