Page 34 of Wild Daddy

"I did it!" I spin around to face him, and the pride on his face makes something warm bloom in my chest. "Did you see that?"

"I saw." He pulls me against him and kisses me, hard and possessive. "I'm proud of you, my good girl."

The praise hits me harder than it should. When's the last time someone has been proud of me for something that isn't an academic achievement? When's the last time I've felt accomplished for doing something purely for joy?

"Can we do it again?" I ask.

"We can do whatever you want." He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. "This is your time, Marley. Your time to be young and curious and free."

Something about the way he says it makes my throat tight. "I don't know how to be free."

"I know." His voice is gentle. "That's why Daddy's here to teach you."

The walk back to camp should be awkward—me processing the fact that I've just lost my virginity to a man I've known for three days, him probably wondering what the hell he's gotten himself into with a nineteen-year-old grad student.

Instead, it feels natural. Easy. Like we've been doing this dance for years instead of days.

"Cade?" I say as the camp comes into view.

"Yeah?"

"What we did last night..." I feel my cheeks heat up. "Was it good? I mean, I know I don't have any experience to compare it to, but—"

He stops walking and turns to face me so suddenly I almost run into his chest.

"Look at me," he says, tilting my chin up. "Last night was perfect. You were perfect. And if you ever doubt that again, I'm going to put you over my knee and remind you exactly how good you are."

The threat sends heat spiraling through me. "Promise?"

His eyes darken. "Careful what you ask for, little girl."

Back at the camp, I settle on a log with my notebook while Cade puts everything straight and starts to cook, finally ready to work on the thesis notes I've been scribbling at every turn. But the words that come out aren't the clinical observations Professor Harrison is expecting.

Note: Subject displays remarkable intuitive understanding of environmental factors. More importantly, subject challenges preconceived notions about education vs. experience. Traditional academic metrics fail to capture the depth of knowledge gained through direct application...

I stop writing and stare at the page. This isn't a thesis anymore. This is me trying to justify why everything I've believed about learning and life is wrong.

"How's the writing going?" Cade asks as he pulls cooking gear from his pack.

"Terrible." I close the notebook. "I can't figure out how to turn 'my instructor is teaching me to be human' into academic language."

"Maybe that's the problem." He looks up from his work. "Maybe some things aren't meant to be turned into academic language."

"But I have to. My defense is next Friday, and Professor Harrison expects—"

"What doyouexpect?" He sets down the cooking gear and gives me his full attention. "Not what Harrison wants, not what your parents want. What do you want to say about what happened here?"

I think about it. Really think about it. "I want to say that I’ve learned more about myself in three days than I did in two years of graduate school. I want to say that maybe intelligence isn't about how much you know, but about how willing you are to admit you don't know everything."

"So say that."

"I can't. It's not academic enough. It doesn't follow proper research methodology. It's too personal."

"Says who?"

"Says... everyone. The academy. The standards for—"

"Bullshit." He stands up and walks over to where I'm sitting. "You know what I think?"

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