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)
My stomach twists. My vision blurs. I click out fast, like I can erase it, like it won't follow me here.
But then I hear the door.
A low creak. A pause. Heavy boots stopping dead on the wooden floor.
I turn slowly, heart hammering.
Jack stands in the doorway, his massive frame blocking the light, axe forgotten at his feet. His eyes move from my face to the closed laptop, and I watch something shift in him—like a switch being flipped from man to predator.
"What was on that screen?" His voice is quiet. Dangerous.
I swallow. "David. My ex. He's—"
"Come here." The command cuts through my explanation.
I move to stand, but he shakes his head once, sharp.
"No. Crawl."
Heat floods my face, my chest. "Jack—"
"Now, Delaney." His jaw is granite, eyes winter cold. "You kept secrets that put you in danger. That put what we have in danger. You should have told me everything about him the minute you washed up on my land.” His voice drops lower, deadlier. "So now you crawl. Show me where you belong when you've fucked up and put yourself at risk."
Something in me yields instantly. I slide from the chair to my knees, the wooden floor hard beneath them. My palms meet the cool surface as I begin moving toward him, Jack's flannel gaping at the chest, pooling around my thighs.
His breathing changes as he watches me approach, becoming deeper, controlled. He doesn't move to meet me, just stands like the mountain he is, waiting.
When I reach his boots, he tangles one hand in my hair, not gentle, lifting my face to his.
"What did he say?"
"He knows where I am. Where we are." My voice trembles. "Has pictures of the cabin. Of me. He's threatening to have me committed, to get legal control over me as my doctor."
Jack's nostrils flare, a muscle jumping in his jaw. With his free hand, he unbuckles his belt, the leather hissing as he pulls it through the loops.
"Listen to me, baby girl." He unzips his fly, freeing his cock—already hard, thick, the head flushed dark with blood. "This is your safe place now. Not that fucking phone. Not Instagram. This."
His hand guides my head forward until his cock brushes my lips. Not forcing, but insistent.
"When you're scared, this is where you come. When you need comfort, this is what you take. I'm going to train your mind to understand that." His grip tightens in my hair. "Trace my name with your tongue while you suck me. J-A-C-K. Write it on my cock so you never forget who owns this pretty mouth."
I part my lips, letting him press inside, the familiar weight of him on my tongue centering me in a way I don't fully understand. I trace the letters against his heated skin—J, then A, then C, then K—feeling him throb against my tongue with each stroke.
"That's it." His voice softens slightly, though his grip in my hair remains firm. "Take your comfort, baby girl. Let Daddy handle the bullshit."
I close my eyes, focusing on the taste of him, the stretch of my lips, the way my body naturally relaxes as I take him deeper. It shouldn't make sense—that this act, on my knees, would make me feel safe. But it does.
His thumb brushes my cheek, surprisingly gentle. "You're mine to protect. Mine to keep safe. But I can't do that if you hide things from me."
I make a small sound around his thickness, an apology he seems to understand.
"Shh. Just take what you need now." His hand loosens in my hair, becoming a caress. "Let this remind you where you belong. Who you belong to."
I lose myself in the rhythm, in the simplicity of pleasing him. My mind empties of David's threats, of fear, of anything but Jack's taste, his scent, the soft sounds of approval he makes when I take him deeper.
He doesn't rush me. Doesn't thrust. Just lets me work at my own pace, taking the comfort he's offering in the only way he knows how to give it.
I don't know how much time passes—minutes, maybe more—before he gently pulls away. He's still hard, hasn't finished, but that wasn't the point. He tucks himself away, then crouches to my level, taking my face between his hands.
"Next time you're afraid, you come to me. Not to that." He nods toward the laptop. "Now go delete that account. Cut that final string."
I nod, oddly calm now. "What if he comes here?"
A smile spreads across Jack's face—nothing kind about it, all teeth and predator. "Oh baby, I welcome it."
Before I can stand, tires crunch on gravel outside. A car door slams. Jack's head turns toward the sound, nostrils flaring like a predator catching a scent.
"Fucking Beau," he says, tucking himself away and zipping up in one fluid motion. "Stay behind me."
Instinctively, I move to stand, but his hand on my shoulder keeps me in place. "Let me see you," he says, eyes raking over me. "You good, baby girl?"