Jake’s POV
Cold hit around midnight. That particular November cold that made bones ache and blankets inadequate. We'd been sitting by the dead fire, talking through logistics and fears and plans, when Adison shivered hard enough that I felt it.
"Inside," I said. Stood despite my ankle protesting. "You're freezing."
"I'm fine—"
"You're turning blue. Inside. Now."
She didn't argue. Smart woman.
My room was warmer. Not much, but enough. I pulled back the covers, climbed in carefully. Walking cast made everything awkward. She followed without hesitation, fitting herself against me like we'd done this a thousand times instead of just a handful.
"Better?" I asked.
"Much." Her voice was already getting that sleepy quality. "Your bed is better than mine."
"It's the same bed. Just different room."
"Yours smells like you. Makes it better."
That did something to my chest. The casual intimacy of it. Like she belonged here. Like this was normal instead of world-altering.
We fell asleep tangled together. Her head on my chest. My arm around her. Natural. Right. Like every night before this had been practice for exactly this configuration.
Woke up early. Pre-dawn. That gray light that wasn't quite darkness but wasn't sunrise yet. Adison was still asleep, her breathing slow and even. I held her, careful not to wake her, just—absorbing this.
My most precious possession. That's what she felt like. Not in the ownership way. In the terrified-of-losing way. In the this-person-matters-more-than-anything way.
She shifted slightly. Pressed closer. Still asleep but seeking warmth. Seeking me.
My body responded immediately. Predictably. Morning and having Adison in my bed was apparently a combination my body had strong opinions about.
Her eyes opened. Sleepy. Unfocused. Then awareness hit and she smiled. "Morning."
"Morning." My voice was rough. "Sleep okay?"
"Best I've slept in weeks." She pressed closer. Felt exactly how awake certain parts of me were. "Someone's happy to see me."
"Someone has no self-control when you're this close."
"Good." She moved deliberately. Rubbing against me through layers of clothing. "I like you with no self-control."
Fuck. "Adison—"
"Jake." She mimicked my tone. "We're alone. In your bed. So maybe—" Another deliberate movement. "Maybe we stop overthinking and just—"
Kissed her. Cut off whatever she was going to say because talking was overrated when her mouth was available.
She responded immediately. Hands in my hair. Body pressing closer. That particular kind of kiss that said morning breath didn't matter when want was this immediate.
"My baby," I murmured against her lips. Couldn't help it. "You turn me on even in my sleep. Dream about you. Wake up wanting you."
Her breath caught. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." Slid my hand under her shirt. Skin warm and soft. "You're perfect. So fucking perfect."
We made out like teenagers. Desperate. Handsy. Her shirt came off. Then mine. Shorts requiring more coordination than we possessed but we managed. Finally skin against skin, her body fitting against mine in ways that felt inevitable.
"Jake—" Her voice had that quality. The breathy one that made rational thought nearly impossible. "I want—"
"Tell me." Kissed down her neck. "Tell me what you want."
"You. Inside me. Now."
Direct. Perfect. Exactly what I needed to hear.
I positioned myself over her. Took my time despite the urgency. Watching her face. Making sure she was with me. That this was what she wanted.
"Yes," she said. Reading my hesitation. "God, yes. Stop being careful and just—"
Her pussy is slick and inviting, already twitching with need as I press my thick length against her entrance.
Entered her slowly. She's tight—So fucking tight. I feel every goddamn inch of her clenching around me as I slide inside.
Watching her face for any sign of discomfort. She was still new to this. Still adjusting. Still—
"More," she whimpers, her voice trembling.
Her nails scrape down my back like she wants to carve herself into me forever. I lean down, capturing her lips, swallowing her moans as I fuck her deeper, harder. Her legs wrap around my waist, pulling me closer, urging me deeper.
"Jake," she gasps, her voice broken. "Please, Jake, harder."
I give it to her. I slam into her with a rhythm that has her writhing beneath me, her tits bouncing with every thrust. She's so fucking perfect. Her cries fill the room, driving me wild.
"You're mine, baby," I growl into her ear, my voice rough with need. "All fucking mine."
"Yours," she moans. "You own me."
I keep going, fucking her deep. I can feel my own orgasm building, fucking threatening to break. But I hold on. I want to make her scream first. I want to make her mine in every fucking way.
"So good," I managed. "You feel so good. So perfect.”
I don't want it to end. I delay the moment until she starts writhing beneath me. And then it happens.
I can see she's at her limit. Her breathing becomes ragged, and her gaze—that innocent, pleading gaze—begs me not to stop.
I choose to come with her, to lose myself in unison. To become one with my sweet girl, shivering with bliss. A thrust, another, and—
Knock on the door.
Loud. Decisive. Not Tommy's hesitant tap or Sarah's professional rap. This was authority. This was—
The door opened. No pause. No waiting for response. Just opened.
"Dad?" Adison's voice cracked. She scrambled for sheets. Tried to cover herself. "What are you doing here?"
Richard Ward stood there. My best friend. Her father. Looking from me to Adison to the very obvious situation we were in.