“Yes, Daddy,” I reply with a giddy nod, excited by the thought.
He makes a deep erotic sound in the back of his throat and pushes his finger between my parted lips. I close my eyes, my moan vibrating around his finger as I taste my own desire. I wrap my fingers around his erection, wanton with the need pulsing through my veins.
He seems to grow bigger in my hand with every stroke. Just when I’m starting to settle into a rhythm, he draws my hand away, then pulls me onto his lap. I wrap my legs around his waist, his cock nudging the cleft of my pussy.
“Oh, Wilder,” I moan helplessly. “Please…”
He lies back on the bed, pulling me down with him until I’m straddling his hips.
“That’s my baby girl,” he murmurs, sliding into me with a slight shift of his weight.
I open my eyes, but no sound comes out. I look down into his magnificent face, rugged and strong, as he pushes deeper into me, filling me up completely
“Oh, God,” I moan, digging my nails into his shoulders. “God, ohGod…”
He slides almost all the way out, then thrusts again with an intensity that has my body jerking violently. All the while, his eyes stay locked on mine, and I can see my desire mirrored in his expression. I can feel his pulse in the flesh buried inside me.
“Come with me, Millie,” he pants urgently. “Come with me.”
I stare into his face, my breath coming in short, rasping pants. I shift my weight, grinding against him, and that’s all it takes. I scream as a shattering orgasm rushes through me. Wilder captures my mouth with his, swallowing my cries.
I whimper into his mouth as my climax goes on and on. His gasps turn to moans. My hips buck against him, my pussy clenching hard around his cock as he comes.
After, we lie together, our bodies warm and damp with sweat. I close my eyes, my heart swelling with an indescribable happiness.
“I love you, Wilder,” I mumble as I drift off to sleep.
“I love you too, baby girl.”
Epilogue
Wilder
The cemetery is quiet this morning.
Cold, gray light stretches across the rows of headstones, the air carrying that damp, earthy smell that always reminds me of early mornings on the coast. The kind of mornings when the world hasn’t fully woken up yet. When everything feels still.
I stand in front of Johnny’s grave, hands shoved deep into the pockets of my coat, staring down at the simple headstone.
Johnny Tulane.
It still feels wrong that those two words are all that’s left of him.
“Hey, brother.” My voice sounds rough in the silence. “I’m late this week. Got busy.”
A faint breeze moves through the trees, rustling the branches overhead. I shift my weight, exhaling slowly.
Wilder Harbor House has been growing faster than I ever expected. More donations. More volunteers. More men coming through the doors looking for a second chance. Some broken. Some angry. Some too numb to even care yet.
I understand all of them.
“I expanded the program,” I tell him. “We’ve got job placements now. Counseling. A partnership with a construction company. A few of the guys are working full time already.”
Pride tightens my chest. It still surprises me sometimes. That this is my life now. That I wake up every morning with purpose instead of rage.
“That was your idea, by the way,” I add. “You always said what people need most is dignity.” I huff out a quiet laugh. “You were right. As usual.”
My gaze drifts over the headstone.
