Page 22 of Force of Nature

“I don’t want to hurt you again,” he said. But I knew that he wanted this. I could hear it in his voice and feel it in his touch.

“You didn’t. You won’t.”

I kissed my father’s lips. Gripping the back of his neck, I encouraged him to kiss me harder. After a moment’s hesitation, his tongue grazed my lower lip, and I opened my mouth to let him inside. His kiss was intoxicating. I wanted more, and I wasn’t the only one.

My dad pulled me onto his lap so that I was straddling him. I could already feel his erection growing inside his pants, pressing against my core. His jeans felt rough against my skin, but I rocked against him anyway, craving contact.

He trailed his lips along my jaw and down my neck with a groan. It felt like he was purposely retracing the path Duke’s mouth had taken earlier. I wanted nothing more than to replace those bad memories with good ones, and to exchange the bad men’s uninvited fingerprints with my dad’s welcome ones. He slid his hands up my thighs, beneath the hem of my oversized shirt. I raised my arms, impatient for him to take it off me. Once I was naked again, he let out a raspy sound from the back of his throat as he lowered his mouth to my breast.

I whimpered as he sucked on my breast, flicking his tongue over my nipple. He gripped my hips firmly as I ground against his bulge. I was probably soaking the front of his jeans with my wetness, but I didn’t care. I was too needy, too desperate to feel every inch of him.

“Oh god,” I said in a harsh whisper. “Please, I need more.”

The next thing I knew, I was lying on the cot with my dad kneeling above me. He tore open the front of his jeans, and I used my legs and feet to help him shove them down his thighs impatiently. I wanted him to fill me up again, by choice this time. I wanted to forget about what we were forced to do and just lose myself in the pleasure that I now knew he could bring me.

He covered my body with his own, keeping the bulk of his weight off me with one hand braced on the cot’s frame. I felt the head of his cock at my entrance, soft and hard and hot at the same time. I was so wet for him that he slipped in with almost no resistance, sinking in slowly, inch by inch, until he was buried inside.

I gasped at the fullness and the pleasurable ache in my muscles as they stretched around him. There was no one around to taunt us, no one threatening our lives. I could give him my full attention. I watched his face twist with pleasure and listened to his ragged moans.

“Fuck, Willow,” he ground out between clenched teeth. “You’re so perfect. I had no idea…”

He pulled back and then sank deep inside me again, drawing a moan from my lips.

“You feel so good, too, Dad. Please, show me how good it can be.”

He sat up and lifted my legs, placing them on his shoulders. I was practically bent in half as he leaned forward, sinking deeper inside me than before. Stars went supernova behind my closed eyelids as he pounded into me, hard and slow. It felt like he was aiming for a specific spot deep inside that sent ecstasy charging through my veins each time he hit home.

Whimpering, I held on to his biceps, digging my nails into his skin as he began to move faster. Sweat coated our bodies as he took me hard, the way I never knew I wanted it before I’d had him this way. It felt incredible, like he was rubbing my clit from the opposite side. I reached between us to touch myself.

“That’s so fucking hot, baby,” he rasped. “Is that how you do it when you’re alone?”

“Uh-huh.” I nodded. It’s how I’ve always done it, alone in my room, trying desperately not to make a sound because I knew my dad was asleep on the other side of the wall. How many nights had he done the same? Taken his big, hard cock in his hand, stroking himself and holding back groans so I wouldn’t realize what he was doing.

What would I have done if I’d heard him touching himself? Would I have died from embarrassment? Blushed and pretended I hadn’t heard anything? I certainly wouldn’t have rubbed my clit faster, imagining that my fingers were his tongue, or tiptoed to his bedroom and slipped inside so we could help each other.

But that was before we’d crossed a line, before we knew how easily wrong and dirty and forbidden could become good, right, and exactly what we needed. What would happen next time?

I wasn’t sure. All I knew was that I didn’t want my dad to stop fucking me.

He squeezed my breasts and played with my nipples as he ground me into the creaky cot. I was already so close to coming. I arched my back, struggling to catch my breath as my peak edged toward me.

“Fuck, Daddy, I’m going to…to…”

Words failed me as the force of my orgasm threatened to overwhelm me. But he understood what I was trying to say.

“Come on my cock, Willow. Milk me with your pussy, just like that…”

I’d never heard him talk like that before, and his dirty words sent me hurtling over the edge. He covered my mouth with his hand to muffle my cries of pleasure as I bucked and writhed beneath him. In the throes of my climax, I felt like I was floating above my body. I was flying and grounded at the same time, my heartbeat throbbing in my chest cavity. He didn’t stop thrusting into me as I came, which made my orgasm feel like it could go on forever. Then his movements became jerky and erratic.

“I’m going to fill you up.” He panted. “Oh, fuck, I’m coming. Forgive me, baby…”

I slid my legs off his shoulders so that his body could fall forward, and I could reach his lips. I kissed my dad hard as he came, cutting off any more sentiments of guilt or regret. I didn’t want to hear them. His cock pulsed inside me, and I ached from satisfaction. I’d helped him set aside his fear, pain, and anger for a little while, just like he’d helped me forget mine.

When it was over, he pulled out of me, but I didn’t let him go right away. I kept my arms and legs wrapped around him, cherishing the comfort his closeness provided. Somewhere in my mind, I knew that this was wrong, but I couldn’t make myself care enough to stop it. We deserved to feel good after the hurt we’d suffered. No one—not even my dad—could convince me otherwise.

He pulled his pants back on before helping me sit up. Exhausted, I allowed him to put the T-shirt back on me without much effort on my part. He smoothed my tangled hair and pressed a kiss to my forehead, then urged me to lie back down on the cot.

“Try to get some sleep,” he said. “I’ll keep watch.”

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