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“Thank you, Daddy,” I said primly. “I love sucking your fat daddy-cock and swallowing your cream. I only wish…”
“Only wish what, baby girl?” he asked, stroking my cheek.
“I only wish I could have your cream in my pussy too.” I gave him a pleading look. “Please, Daddy Jack—can’t you be the one to knot me and breed me?”
But he only frowned and shook his head.
“Don’t even talk about such things, baby girl. I wish I could—I want to knot you and breed you much more than I should. But we can’t—we just can’t.”
Sadly, I realized he wasn’t going to give in. I was going to have to come up with another plan to get what I needed, though I didn’t know how in the world I was going to manage.
I would just have to think of something.
TWELVE
“I can’t believe this! I can’t believe I’m actually thinking about doing this—of letting some stranger breed me,” I protested as we sat in Jack’s jeep, parked on the edge of the Pack Grounds.
Jack gave me a stern look.
“I don’t like it either, Princess. You think I want some other male breeding my baby girl? But the truth is, Dr. Keller is right—you really could die from Heat Fever if you don’t get bred. And I promise, you don’t have to stay with him—as soon as you get your itch scratched, I’ll take you home with me.”
“And what if I get…get pregnant?” My lips trembled as I said the words.
“Then I’ll take care of you and the baby both,” Jack assured me, but there was a look in his eyes—a tormented look that said he didn’t want to see this happen to me, anymore than I wanted it to happen. But it seemed like we didn’t have a choice.
Not that I was really going through with it, I told myself. Oh, I would go out there and pretend to join the “Open Breeding” but I wouldn’t stay. I would hide in the forest until it was over. Then I would go back to Jack and try again to convince him to help me himself.
I didn’t care about the stupid “Pack Laws” that proclaimed we were practically father and daughter just because Jack and my real father had done some dumb blood-sharing ritual a hundred years ago. Why should I care about the opinions of a bunch of people I didn’t even know? They could call my love for Jack incest if they wanted to—I knew the truth.
Jack wasn’t my father by blood, but he was definitely my Daddy. And he was the only man I wanted—the only one I would accept into my bed.
I was determined to have him, one way or another.
We left the Jeep and Jack took my hand in his and led me to the Pack Grounds, which turned out to be a wide clearing in the forest. There was a big rock right in the middle, about waist high, a meter and a half wide, and a meter across. It was flat on top and made the perfect natural platform.
Already I could see a man standing up there—he was maybe a little older that Jack, but not in nearly such good shape. He had a beer gut and thinning brown hair that was going gray around his ears—nowhere near as distinguished as Jack’s silver temples.
“Hello, hello,” he said heartily, getting down off the rock to greet us. He held out a hand and Jack shook it firmly. “It’s good to see you again, Jack,” the man said. “And who might this lovely young lady be?” he added, looking at me.
“Packmaster Sanders, I’d like to introduce my Blood-ward, Madison Lawson, daughter of my late Blood-brother, Patrick Lawson.”
“Oh yes—I remember Patrick! And I heard about what happened to him and his wife. I’m very sorry for your loss, Madison,” he said sympathetically, holding out a hand to me.
“Oh, er, thank you,” I said stiffly. I took his hand automatically…and then had to stop myself from jerking away.
His hand was clammy and hot and a feeling of instant revulsion climbed up my arm the minute I touched him. It was like I had put my hand in a big pile of hot dog shit or a bucket of live roaches crawling all around—that’s how disgusted I felt just from touching his skin.
Thankfully, he released me almost at once and I was able to take my hand back. As surreptitiously as I could, I tried to wipe it on the back of my skirt. I couldn’t get over the feeling that I had touched something filthy.
Though the truth of the matter was, it wasn’t that the Packmaster was dirty in some way, it was just that he wasn’t Jack. I remembered how Dr. Keller said I had “imprinted” on my guardian—if that was true, my aversion to other male Weres was no joke. It literally made me sick to try and touch one of them.
