Total pages in book: 45
Estimated words: 41327 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 207(@200wpm)___ 165(@250wpm)___ 138(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41327 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 207(@200wpm)___ 165(@250wpm)___ 138(@300wpm)
"So beautiful," he murmurs, voice strained. "Now, use your mouth and show me how fucking sorry you are for not listening to Daddy. Suck, little girl. Don’t make me say it again.”
Pride blooms warm in my chest at his praise, spurring me to take him deeper, to hollow my cheeks around him. His grip tightens in my hair.
"That's it, baby girl. Just like that."
I lose myself in pleasing him, in the weight of him on my tongue, the soft groans I draw from his chest. When he finally pulls away, I make a sound of protest that earns me a dark chuckle.
"Greedy," he says, lifting me to my feet. "But we're not done yet."
He carries me to the bedroom, laying me on the mattress with careful attention to my injured ankle. He strips methodically, revealing the expanse of muscled chest and stomach that still makes my mouth go dry. The tattoos that mark significant moments in his life. The scars I've learned not to ask about.
When he covers my body with his, the weight of him pressing me into the mattress feels like coming home. He enters me slowly, filling me inch by inch until I'm gasping, clinging to his shoulders.
"This is mine," he growls, grinding deep. "You understand? This body. This pleasure. Mine to protect. Mine to punish when necessary. Mine to worship always."
"Yours," I agree, the word broken by a moan as he hits a spot inside me that makes my vision blur. "All yours, Daddy."
He takes me with measured strokes, building a rhythm that has me arching beneath him, chasing the peak I can feel building. When it crashes over me, I cry out his name—"Jack!"—earning me a sharp slap on my still-sensitive backside.
"Daddy..." I correct myself immediately, the pain blending with pleasure to heighten my orgasm. "Daddy, please!"
He follows me over the edge with a growl that vibrates through my bones, spilling hot inside me. For long moments afterward, he stays buried deep, forehead pressed to mine, breathing ragged.
When he finally withdraws, it's only to gather me close, tucking me against his chest. His heartbeat thunders beneath my ear, gradually slowing as he strokes my hair.
"Wait here," he murmurs after several minutes, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.
He returns moments later with fresh antibiotic ointment and a new bandage, carefully cleaning my skinned knee with practiced efficiency. His touch is tender, so different from the controlled strength he showed during my punishment.
"You did well today," he says, smoothing the last piece of tape into place. "Took your punishment without complaint."
"It wasn't exactly a hardship." I feel my cheeks heat. "I mean—the corner was, but the rest..."
His laugh rumbles through the quiet room. "Good to know." He sets the first aid kit aside, then hesitates, an unusual uncertainty crossing his features. "I have something for you."
He crosses to the dresser, opening the top drawer and withdrawing a small object. When he returns to the bed, I see it's a stuffed animal—a wolf, once gray but now faded to an indeterminate shade, patches worn thin on its muzzle and ears. One ear is singed black at the tip.
"Our house burned when I was nine," Jack says, turning the small wolf in his massive hands. "Electrical fire. Started in the kitchen while we were sleeping." His jaw tightens. "Dad was out—with another woman, we found out later. Mom got all five of us boys out, but there wasn't time to save much else."
I reach out, fingers brushing the blackened ear. "This was in the fire."
He nods. "One of the only things that survived. Mom gave it to me when I was four." A ghost of a smile touches his lips. "Used to tell me wolves protected their pack, no matter what. That I was her little protector."
The image of young Jack clutching this small wolf makes my throat tighten.
"I took it with me when I enlisted." He shakes his head. "Caught hell from the other guys. Big man with a little stuffed animal. But it reminded me what I was fighting for. Who I was."
He holds it out to me, something vulnerable flickering in his eyes. "I want you to have it."
The weight of the gesture nearly crushes me. This isn't just a gift—it's a piece of his history. One of his only connections to his mother. Something that survived fire and war to reach my hands.
"Jack, I can't—"
"You can," he interrupts gently. "And you will. Because it matters to me that you have it." He places the small wolf in my hands. "Something to remind you that you're safe. That you're protected."
Tears blur my vision as I cradle the worn toy against my chest. "Thank you," I whisper, inadequate words for the magnitude of what he's given me.
He gathers me close again, careful of my ankle, arranging us so my head rests on his shoulder. "We need to establish some ground rules," he says after a while, voice rumbling beneath my ear.