They keep bringing more and more stuff. So much stuff we have nowhere to put it. It gets stacked on top of the tubs in one corner that we’d brought from the crash site. I don’t like Atticus in our home, nor do I like the way he tries to pass on secret messages with his eyes. I simply don’t like him trying to mess up my happiness. When he drops a box down in front of me full of new books I haven’t read, a squeal of excitement escapes me. They head off to unload more crap and I dive into my box marveling over the new romance stories. I pick up one book and frown in confusion. It doesn’t look like romance. As soon as I read the title, my heart rate thunders in my chest.
Incest in the Wild.
I throw it away from me as if it’s covered in poison. Hot tears well in my eyes and on instinct, I clutch my huge stomach as if to protect my baby. For what feels like forever, I sob as I stare in horror at the book. When my tears finally dry, anger takes over.
How dare he keep sticking his nose where he shouldn’t?
With a choked, furious sound, I snap the book up and ready myself to throw it in the fire. But before I can fling it away, a festering begins deep inside of me. Maybe I should read it just so I know what I’m up against. What to expect. I’m going to love this child no matter what but I feel like I owe it to him or her to see what we’ll be dealing with.
I swallow down bile in my throat as I open the book.
Page after page, I greedily read up the knowledge. What I learn disgusts and terrifies me. I’m afraid, more so than before. So many complications. So many potential mental problems.
When the door flies open, I screech and guiltily toss the book back into the box. Dad takes one look at my tear-stained face and rushes to my side. His arms are sweaty but protective. He searches my body with his palms as if he can find what’s hurting me.
It’s my heart.
It aches and bleeds for our future.
He can’t fix it.
Only God can.
And for the terrible things we’ve done, I’m afraid God has turned his back on us.
“Baby,” he coos. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
I accept his deep kiss and my heart calms some. Dad will do anything to protect me and the baby. He loves us deeply. I’m letting Atticus and his stupid book get to me. Together, Dad and I can make this work, no matter what happens.
“Nothing. Pregnancy hormones. I think I’m just too hot and sweaty,” I say with a ragged sigh.
His mouth finds my neck and he kisses me. “I’m going to take a break to take you swimming. As much as I’d love to see you naked always, I don’t want that motherfucker seeing you. Can you wear your black swimsuit? You know I love that one on you. I always have.”
I turn to meet his heat-filled gaze. He admitted to being aroused by me before we left to come out here in our hot tub. It makes me wet thinking that he got an erection simply from looking at me. When he was married to Mom. When those thoughts were a lot more dangerous there than here.
“Okay,” I agree with a smile.
His eyes burn with need—a need I wish I could fulfill, but we have a stupid, nosy visitor.
Twenty minutes later, we’re headed to the river. Unfortunately for us, Atticus tags along. I think he’s watching and waiting for an opportunity to talk to me alone again. I refuse to let that happen. As Dad carries me into the river wearing boxers only, I cling to him. Maybe if we ignore Atticus, he’ll go away.
“Oh my God!” I shriek. “It’s so cold!”
It’s freezing, but my pregnant self is already so hot all the time and it’s barely spring. We dip under the rushing water and I moan in relief. After an entire winter of sponge baths, it’s nice to get submerged. We bathe at first with some soap and shampoo. Then, we spend hours lazing in the river. Atticus eventually sits on the river banks and rummages in his backpack.
“I need you,” I whisper to Dad as I wrap my thighs around his waist. My belly is squished between us but I can still kiss him.
He doesn’t argue as we make out. Simply pulls his hard cock out. I help him by moving my swimsuit to the side. When he pushes into me, I cry out in pleasure. Atticus shakes his head and refuses to look at us. I float back with my legs wrapped around Dad and lose myself to the sensations. His palms greedily tear at my top until I’m free for him to maul. My breasts are soon in his mouth as he sucks and bites at the flesh. It makes my pussy clench around him, desperate to come.
Like animals, we fuck in the river.
Two savages.
Wild and free.
Bound by love and our growing offspring.
“What are you going to do with those three bearskins?” Atticus asks as we roast some hot dogs he brought in his ice chest. Their savory scent has my mouth watering. After nearly a year of meat and the occasional canned fruit or vegetable, I’m ravenous for the stuff he brought. Something as simple as the grapes in his pack seem too good to be true. Both men laughed when I claimed the bag for my own.
“Devon wants to make more carpet for the expansion,” Dad tells him as he pulls my hot dog off the stick and presses it into a bun. He hands it to me and I don’t fool with condiments. I simply devour it.
“I could help you with the extension,” Atticus tells him. “With the two of us, it shouldn’t take any more than a couple of weeks.”
They lose themselves to conversation about measurements and design but I frown as I eat the rest of my food. I thought he’d deliver our supplies and then leave. Unfortunately, he’s back to wearing out his welcome. He’s long since stopped side-eyeing me. Ever since Dad fucked me in the river within earshot, Atticus has seemed to give up on his quest to save me from a situation I don’t need saving from. I’m thankful for the supplies he brought us but I still am unhappy about the book. So when he suggests sleeping in the cabin with us, I screech in protest.
“No,” Dad tells him firmly. “You have your tent. I’m sorry but she doesn’t feel safe around men.”
Atticus shrugs as if it doesn’t bother him. He didn’t want to sleep in the cabin. He just wanted to stress me out.
“What happened today?” Dad asks. “I know something happened.”
Guilt rises in my throat and I try to turn away from him. “It’s stupid. Nothing.”
He pulls me onto my back and hooks his thigh over mine to keep me from rolling away. His massive palm covers my lower belly. The baby nudges him and we both smile for a moment, distracted from our conversation.
“It was Atticus. He said something to you, didn’t he?” His brows are furrowed together in concern. Sometimes I try to remember him back at the house in San Francisco. Was he always this good looking? Without all the facial hair and feral glares, was he still hot?
My mind drifts to one of the nights leading up to our arrival here. When we camped out somewhere in Canada along the way.
“Your turn,” Dad says as he draws a card. It’s pouring down rain and I wish we could go to the campground pool. Instead, we’re stuck inside while Mom sleeps. We’ve played more card games than I can count. With a yawn, I stretch my legs out under the table and rest them on top of his thighs.
I frown at my cards as I decide what I’m going to play. Dad sets his hand down and starts massaging my bare feet in his lap. I bite on my bottom lip as I try to focus on what cards to put down but I can’t ignore the way excitement seems to pulsate from how he’s touching me. It kind of tickles when he kneads the bottom of my feet but mostly it feels good. I like that his hands are giant compared to my small feet. He leans his head back while he waits but continues to rub my feet.
I take the moment to stare at him over my cards. His Adam’s apple protrudes from his throat with his head leaned back. The grey T-shirt he wears fits him well and showcases his lean yet fit body. His dark hair is wild and messy on top of his head.
A smile plays at my lips.
We’re finally headed to the great outdoors. We’ll get to do this stuff all the time. No stress. No school. No work. No worries. Normally, I detest my mother’s behavior but right now I’m thankful she gives us so many moments alone.
“Mmm,” I let out a surprised moan. His hands on my feet feel too good.
His head jerks back up and his stare bores a hole through me. I frown when he clenches his jaw as though he’s angry, but he doesn’t let me go. It’s awkward staring at him but I refuse to look away. I love his undivided attention. When his fingertips slide up from my feet, brushing along my ankle bones under the bottoms of my jeans, I gasp in surprise. It feels intimate with his fingers on my lower legs beneath my jeans.
I’m still staring at him, admiring his ruggedly handsome face when he clears his throat.
“I need a beer. You want anything?”
I pull my feet away. “I’ll get it, Dad. Stay put.”
He flashes me a relieved smile that I don’t understand when I bounce off to get us something to drink. I pop open a beer for him and set it on the table. And then, not-so-innocently, I walk over to my bag on the sofa and rummage around for some more comfortable clothes. I can feel his stare on me as he sips his beer.
I unbutton my jeans and push them down my thighs. Over my shoulder, I flash him a smile. “I need my yoga pants,” I tell him as if that’s the most normal reason in the world for a girl to undress in front of her father.
He takes another swallow and gives me a nod. His gaze tears from mine but as soon as I turn back, I can feel it on me. I’m slow in my movements as I kick off my jeans and then bend to pick them up. My panties are wet and this is probably sick but right now I’m pretending this trip is just for us. I always feel so safe and connected to him.
“Actually,” I say with a breathy laugh. “It’s hot. I think I’ll wear shorts.”
I peel off my hoodie and toss it away. I’m standing in a tank top and my panties in front of my dad. He doesn’t argue or get on to me. He doesn’t say a word. My nipples are hard because this feels dirty and wrong but I like it. I find the shortest pair of skintight cotton shorts I own and slide those up my hips. Once I’m dressed, I turned to catch him averting his gaze. I walk over to the fridge and grab myself a beer too just to rile Dad up.
When I return, we’re quiet as we finish our card game. I prop my right foot back on his thigh and he absently rubs at it and my leg as far up as my knee. I’m so turned on by Dad’s innocent touches that I know I’m going to get off tonight once they’ve gone to bed.
The hours tick by and we play a card game neither of us are interested in. He eventually gets up and rolls out the sofa bed for me. I stare at his lean body as he moves. I’m becoming unhealthily obsessed with staring at him.
“Don’t go to bed yet,” I murmur as I stand. I’m desperate to keep him here with me. “I’ll read to you. Alaskan wilderness boring facts. It’ll be fun.”
He turns and glances toward his room before looking down at me. Indecision wars in his eyes. A month ago, he’d have sat down without hesitation. Something is up with him.
“Please,” I beg. “I’m bored. You entertain me.”
A smile tugs at one corner of his lips. “Fine. Bore me until I fall asleep.”
He stretches out on the bed and pats the blankets. With a grin that matches his, I crawl in next to him. He lies on his side and I stay on my back. I grab the book from the floor and begin reading out loud to him. His breathing eventually evens out as he falls asleep. I turn toward him and selfishly stare at him. While sleeping, he’s younger than his forty years. He could easily pass for thirty. I let my fingertips whisper over his shoulder and up to his jaw. Dad and I have always been affectionate but this feels different. Taboo, maybe. He doesn’t know I’m touching him in a wanting, intimate way. If he woke up, he might be angry. Eventually, a big yawn has me sleepy. I curl up against his warm chest and nearly squeal with delight when his arm wraps around me in a possessive sleepy hug. I fall asleep almost instantly.
“Devon, baby, talk to me.” His voice is exactly the same. Concerned and caring. Full of love. We’re the same two people—just a whole bunch of crap happened between then and now.
I open my eyes, blinking away my memory, and smile at him. “I love you.”
His features soften and he kisses my mouth. “I love you. You know this.”
“Before we ever came on this trip, my feelings for you had started to evolve. More than how a girl adores her father. Deeper. Darker. Forbidden. Do you think had we not come out here it would have happened anyway?” I ask, my voice soft.
His eyes narrow as he considers my question. “I don’t know.”
Lies.
The guilt on his face tells me it would have.
“Dad,” I smirk. “I mean, Reed. Tell me. Would it have happened?”
He swallows and stares off in a daze. “I was pretty horrified when I touched you that night. But the more I thought about it, the more I was secretly glad it happened. I imagine that at the rate we were going, something may have happened between us. Your mother was pushing us together whether she realized it or not. We were both desperate for her love and affection and when she denied us, we turned to each other.” He grunts and meets my gaze with shame in his eyes. “It’s horrible, Devon. We were having the beginnings of feelings no father and daughter should have for each other. Had they been one-sided, it would have been easier to deny. But we both were falling in too deep. I’m sorry I’m a pedophile of a father but I’m not sorry about us. This baby. Our sexual relationship. Our love. All the components make for one messy design but it’s one I’m happy with nonetheless, no matter the consequences.”
His ability to throw everything out the window for me warms my heart. Decision calms me to my core. I sit up and rummage through the box. When I hand him the book, he growls. I turn to face him and straddle his hips.
“I want to burn it.”
His features darken. “You sure?” I can feel him growing hard between my legs.
“Now.”
Without hesitation, he tosses the book straight into the fireplace and together we watch it catch fire. I lift up and accept his thick cock into my receptive body that belongs only to him.
While we fuck like father and daughter shouldn’t but do, we watch the damn incest book burn to dust.