The garage smells like wet concrete and fear. My hands shake. I didn’t mean to run. I just needed air. But he’s still there. Following me. Smiling like he owns my shadow.
Three of them step out from the pillar. Leather jackets. Cheap cologne. Smug grins.
“Going somewhere, Jessa?” he says.
My breath hitches. I back up. Concrete behind me. Nowhere to go.
Then the engine roars.
Black SUV. Tires screech. Door flies open.
Daddy.
He moves like a storm. No hesitation. No fear.
One guy swings a bottle. Daddy catches his wrist. Crunch. Screams.
Second guy pulls a knife. Flash of steel. Daddy doesn’t flinch. Drives a fist into his gut. Drops him.
Third guy lunges. Daddy sidesteps. Grabs his hair. Slams his skull into the car. Glass shatters.
The knife comes up again. Aimed for my throat.
Daddy intercepts. Blade bites deep into his side. Blood blooms on his white tee.
He doesn’t even grunt. Just stares at me. Eyes dark. Possessive.
“Get in the car,” he says. Voice low. Rough. Commanding.
I stumble forward. He catches me. Pulls me against his chest. Blood soaks through my fingers.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs. “Always.”
*
Fluorescent lights. Beeping monitors. The sterile smell of antiseptic.
Daddy’s in a hospital bed. Bandages wrapped tight around his torso. Face pale but jaw set.
I sit beside him. Hands folded. Heart pounding.
He watches me. Eyes soft now. But still commanding.
“You’re safe,” he says.
I shake my head. “I should’ve called the police. I should’ve—”
“You don’t have to be brave for me,” he cuts in. Grabs my hand. Thumb strokes my knuckles. “Let me be the monster. Let me handle it.”
I look down. His knuckles are split. My hands are shaking.
“I’m yours,” I whisper.
He stills. Eyes lock onto mine. Dark heat flashes.
“Say it again,” he demands.
“I’m yours,” I say louder. “Completely. I don’t care about the age. I don’t care about anything but you.”
He leans forward. Wincing. Blood seeps through the bandage. He doesn’t care.
“Good girl,” he murmurs. Kisses my forehead. Then my lips. Hard. Claiming. “You’re carrying my seed tonight. You hear me?”
I nod. Swallow. “Yes, Daddy.”
He pulls back. Eyes blazing. “Then go home. Pack a bag. I’m coming to get you in ten.”
*
His place is small. Barely furnished. But it smells like him. Cedar. Smoke. Power.
I step inside. Door locks behind me.
He doesn’t speak. Just pushes me against the wall. Knees between my thighs. Hands in my hair.
“You said yes,” he growls.
“I did,” I breathe.
Belt buckle clicks. Zipper lowers. Cock springs free. Thick. Heavy. Already leaking.
He doesn’t wait. Doesn’t ask. Just lifts me onto the counter. Cold surface. Hot hands.
Pants down. Underwear down. I’m bare. He’s bare.
“Spread,” he orders.
I do. Legs open. Heart racing.
He doesn’t tease. Doesn’t play. Drives in. Deep. All the way.
I cry out. Back arches. Fingers dig into his shoulders.
“Mine,” he snarls. Throttle. Hard. Relentless.
I’m clenching around him. Wet. Ready. Built for him.
He grabs my hips. Drives harder. Countertop groans.
“You’re going to take it,” he says. Voice ragged. “All of it. Every drop. I’m filling you.”
I nod. Tears in my eyes. “Yes. Please.”
He flips me. Face down. Back arches. Hands grip the mattress.
One hand on my neck. Squeezes. Not hurting. Claiming.
“Look at me,” he commands.
I turn. Eyes meet. Dark. Feral. Loving.
He pulls out. Slaps my ass. Hard. I jump.
Then he’s back. Two fingers. Then three. Stretching me. Coating me in spit. Grease.
“You’ll take four,” he says. “You’ll take all of me.”
I whimper. Nod.
He lines up. Pushes in. Slow this time. Deep.
I sob. He’s too big. Too perfect. Fits like he was carved for me.
He starts moving. Slow. Then fast. Hard.
Floorboards creak. My nails rake his back. He doesn’t flinch.
“Cum for me,” he growls. “Let me feel you squeeze my cock.”
I shatter. Waves crash through me. I scream. He doesn’t stop.
“Again,” he orders. “Cum again. I’m close.”
He grips my hips. Drives like a man possessed. Sweat on his skin. Breathing ragged.
“I’m going to breed you,” he says. Voice raw. “Right here. Right now. You’re mine. You’re carrying my child.”
I nod. “Yes. Please. Make me yours.”
He slams in. Last. Final. Holds me down. Groans. Shakes.
Cum floods me. Hot. Heavy. Deep.
I feel it. All of it. Filling me. Claiming me.
He collapses on top of me. Breath hot. Arms locked.
“Mine,” he whispers. Again. Again. “Forever mine.”
*
Three weeks later. The test is positive.
I sit on the edge of his bed. Hands over my mouth. Tears falling.
He reads it. Jaw tight. Eyes dark.
Then he pulls me into his arms. Kisses my neck. My lips. My belly.
“I told you,” he murmurs. “You’re carrying my heir.”
I nod. Press my cheek to his chest. Feel his heartbeat. Steady. Strong.
“I’m yours,” I say.
“You’ve always been,” he says. Kisses my forehead. “Now rest. I’ll take care of you. Both of you.”
I close my eyes. Safe. Wanted. Filled.
He’s here. He’s mine. And soon, we’ll be a family.
The garage taught me something.
I was never running from danger.
I was running to him.