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A terrible thought to have about my daughter, one I’d never follow.
But I can’t deny that it’s there, that it’s real.
“Really,” I growl passionately.
“Well, okay,” she murmurs. “Basically, I’ve never been much of an outgoing person, you know? In school, I pretty much spent all my time in the library, on my own, sort of a loner. I was always closer to animals than with people. Heck, I was even closer to books about animals than people. So what I’m trying to say is, I’ve never dated much.”
“Good,” I snarl.
The mere thought of another man touching this woman makes me want to find them and do violent things.
Suddenly, sitting here by the light of the scones, I know that she’s fully mine in the most possessive sense possible.
No one else ever touches you again, Sparkplug. I’ll kill them if they do like men ten thousand years ago had to kill rivals to stake their claims in the most bountiful, fertile women.
She flinches and her eyes brim with something. I read her gaze. I see it. She’s thinking the same thing, or something very similar. She’s walking the same line of logic that I am.
No, not logic.
Destiny.
“Good?” she whispers.
“Yes, good,” I tell her. “Because that fine fucking pink wet slit is mine and mine alone.”
“Wait,” she murmurs. “I’m confused.”
“Because you thought I just wanted to fuck you and that was it? Because you didn’t realize that there’s something else going on here?”
“Well, what is going on here?”
I grab her savagely and drag her into my lap. She squeals in delighted surprise as I wrap my arms around her and squeeze her against my throbbing manhood, pressing firmly against her ass cheeks, those round fuck-me-now ass cheeks. Ass cheeks that deserve to be licked, palmed, spanked, fucked, oh God … fucked, fucked hard, bouncing and wobbling and shimmering juicily for me.
“Let me set the record straight,” I snarl, so close our noses are touching. “The second I laid my eyes on you, I claimed you. I told myself that you were mine. Forever. I knew – I don’t know how, but I knew – that you were going to have my children. Don’t ask me to explain it, but I know you’re mine in the same way I know the sky is blue. You belong to me. Your sexy smile, your cute lip-biting, your perfect curvy body, those gorgeous breasts, so perfect for sucking and biting and for breastfeeding our children, that ass, everything—your wet slit, oh, fuck, your juicy fucking pussy, it all belongs to me. You are mine, Sadie.” I pause, struggling for breath, a savage tremor in my voice. “Say it.”
I pause as she stares at me, her body going tense.
Anxiety tries to stab at me.
Jesus Christ, what if she doesn’t feel the same?
“I’m yours,” she whispers.
“Louder,” I snarl.
“I’m yours.”
“Louder, Sparkplug.”
She wriggles against me, grinding onto my engorged manhood.
“I’m yours,” she yells breathlessly.
Our meet eyes for a fraction of a moment and then we both break out into laughter.
“Do you really feel that way?” she asks a moment later.
“Yes,” I growl. “Do you?”
“Yes,” she says at once, amazement quirking in her voice. “Even if I don’t understand it. It’s this … I don’t know, this feeling inside of me if that makes sense.”
“Your womb,” I tell her at once. “I’ve got the same thing. This fucking chorus inside of me. It’s my seed, Sadie. Our bodies are telling us to mate, just like they would have thousands of years ago when we were fucking animals. That’s what I think. You bring out the beast in me.”
We hold each other, floating in the unreality of this moment.
“This is crazy,” she laughs, delight turning her cheeks red.
“Yes,” I say. “It is. But it doesn’t make it any less true.”
“No,” she says. “It definitely doesn’t. It does make it more complicated, though, because if this isn’t just a fling if this is more, then what about…”
She trails off, her eyebrows piquing.
Then what about Fiona?
“I don’t know,” I mutter. “I never planned any of this.”
She jumps out of my lap and paces up and down in front of the window, her arms wrapped across her middle, a frown marking her sublime features.
“I want this,” she whispers, glancing at me almost furtively.
“I want this, too,” I agree with a husky growl in my voice.
“But …”
“But what?” I urge, slowly climbing to my feet and walking over to her.
She spins away, as though knowing the deep truth, that the moment we touch we’ll sink once again into an intimate embrace.
It’s only a few short breaths from that to consuming each other, melting into each other.
The racetrack is still loud in my mind, her moans, her screams, her release echoing back to me endlessly.
“But it’s not just about … about that,” she says.
She was going to say about her, I know.
