Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Golden sunlight spills across the spotless kitchen tiles, the table and countertops, the small bowl of fresh plums and the chrome fixtures on the new fridge. Birdsong pours in sweet chirps from the tree nearest the house, and several red wings flash amidst the dense canopy of cadmium green leaves. At first glance, it’s a Saturday morning just like any other—except for the strangers tracking mud through the house.

They, like the dark stains at the bottom of the staircase, are glaringly out of place.

One—no, three—now five, and there's an additional guy manning the front door. Six men in total, roaming up and down the stairs, murmuring to each other in subdued tones as they work. The soft rise and fall of their voices becomes an accepted background noise, just like the birdsong and the distant sounds of early morning beach traffic. Aside from the faint rumble of the air conditioner and the self-cleaning coffee pot, the house itself is eerily quiet.

With a green and yellow melon-shaped stuffie she calls Kombucha nestled in her lap and comfy white socks on her feet, Rey carefully perches on the edge of a kitchen chair and stares resolutely out of the back sliding glass door. All the commotion has been relegated to the front of the house, but she’s still forbidden to leave the kitchen. In fact, she’s been warned not to so much as turn around in her seat until the men are finished.

Not that she wants to do that. Turn around, that is. There are things in this house she will never see again, and that now includes the staircase and all its surrounding space. There are things in this house—monstrous things, gruesome—that will snap her neck and pull it free of her body if she ignores Daddy’s warning and looks over her shoulder.

People are haunted, and houses too. Sometimes it happens to both.

The group of men—yes, all six of them, dressed in matching white caps and painter’s overalls—invaded the house seconds after Daddy ended his phone call with Poe. She might’ve been worried if she was capable of feeling anything but an all-encompassing numbness. She might've been worried if her body felt at all like her own.

In those brief moments before Daddy issued his warning, while she watched the men work silently but with impressive efficiency, she quickly came to understand that they had likely been waiting many months for such an opportunity. Not one of them expressed any specific emotion, and yet she got the sense that this was an important job. The most important job, maybe. No one spoke to Daddy, either, but when he issued an order or pointed at one thing or another, the men listened. They did what he said without question.

Then Daddy scooped her up off the floor of the hallway and carried her downstairs, and she saw that the creepy van was no longer parked at the curb across the street.

Now, it was in their driveway.

Shivering, despite the waves of warm summer heat rolling in through the front door, Rey squeezes Kombucha to her chest and studies a pair of crows on their fence. The backyard is empty save for a few scattered patio chairs and a small vegetable garden. Daddy planned to install a pool this summer. They would throw parties, host barbecues, entertain friends—they would have fun.

Rey has a feeling this summer will be anything but fun.

It’s clear to her now what that sketchy van was doing in their neighborhood. Surveillance. Just as she suspected, although no one, her friends included, ever took her suspicions seriously. She’s not stupid, even though sometimes she likes to pretend like she is. It’s just easier that way. But Rey’s more perceptive than people give her credit for, and she’s not that surprised to finally have it confirmed that the van’s been keeping a close eye on their house. On her family.

Surveillance explains the what, but certainly not the why.

Why were they watching us? Rey asks herself again. Staring at the bickering crows, stroking her giant stuffie, she runs the questions through her head in an effort to find an answer that makes sense. Why were they spying? And for who?

She senses movement behind her then, something separate from the strange men stomping up and down the stairs. The hair on the back of her neck prickles with awareness, and then Daddy’s shadow falls over her, eclipsing the bright sunshine.

He presses a tender kiss to her forehead. “How’s my baby girl?”

Rey shrugs and thinks, They were watching us for a reason.

Daddy comes around until he’s in her direct line of sight and crouches down. “You haven’t looked at them, have you?”

“No.”

“Very good.” He pats Kombucha’s round melon head and gently folds her hands between his own. “Rey. We’re going to leave soon.”

His words filter in one ear and out the other. She keeps her attention riveted outside. It looks like those two crows are actively fighting now. Maybe a border dispute.

Daddy exhales through his nose. “Look, I packed you a small go-bag with all your favorite things.” He reaches behind the chair leg and tugs her Vera Bradley tote across the floor. “Some shirts, shorts, PJs, a few toiletries. All the essentials. We’ll send for the rest later.”

“Who?” she asks finally, dragging her eyes from the fence. Her entire body feels numb. She flexes her fingers just to be sure they’re still attached to her hand.

He catches her wrist and nibbles playfully on her fingers, which are still very much capable of sensation. “Use your words, baby.”

A bolt of irritation spears through her like a shock. “Who will you send, Daddy?”

He jerks his chin, indicating the front of the house. “My men. Whoever’s available.”

My men. The words cycle through her slowly, giving her enough time to process what they might mean. Why does Daddy have men? Who are they? Where do they come from? Won’t the neighbors wonder why a bunch of random people are traipsing through their house and stuffing their car trunks with a bunch of packed suitcases?

Rey bites her bottom lip and peeks at his face. “Where are we going?”

“Poe’s figuring that out now.”

So tired she can barely keep her eyes open, Rey holds her favorite stuffie up to her cheek and buries her face in its soft green fur. There are too many confusing parts to his explanation, and none of them connect to make a full picture.

By Poe, he must mean Poe Dameron. But what the hell has Poe got to do with anything? He’s having problems of his own, or should be. Hasn’t Amilyn gone to the police yet? She’s the one who started all this stupid drama, after all, the one who found Rey’s panties on Poe’s side of the closet, the one who called Mo—

No. Rey shuts that down. What did she tell herself the moment Daddy set aside her empty cereal bowl? Feelings don’t matter right now. You are not allowed to feel anything until later. She’s not sure when later will be, but that’s for her to figure out sometime that’s not…now.

Not now, not now, not now. A small lapse in concentration could very easily shatter her the same way a hammer swung into a plate of warped glass will destroy all its tiny pieces.

“Precious, I know you’re upset.” Daddy’s fingers skim her calf, and he gently pulls Kombucha away from her face.

She scrunches her nose and stares at him through slitted eyes. His expression betrays exhaustion, impatience, stress, and just a touch of sadness. Although his head’s bent over her stuffie, he keeps peeking up at her to gauge her reaction.

“But you have absolutely nothing to worry about,” he continues soothingly. “I’ll be right here with you the entire time. We’re going to get through this together.”

Rey bites her bottom lip hard enough to draw blood and glances outside at the fence. The crows are gone. “I—Daddy, I wanna stay here.”

His face tightens imperceptibly, but he still manages to keep a faint smile on his lips. “I’m afraid that’s not possible, baby. We need to move on, okay? I promise you, this new place is going to blow you away. You’ll love it.”

Rey hunches her shoulders, unconvinced. This house is the only true home she’s ever known. Tennis practice in the driveway, homework at the dining room table, pizza parties on the worn sofa, cuddles and kisses in every bed. Why would Daddy uproot them now? She still has school and neighborhood friends and her meticulously organized Vanity Fair collection in the back of her closet…

Sensing her unease, Daddy shifts to his knees and slowly runs his palms up and down her thighs. The heat sinks into her bones, and she allows herself to relax for the first time since—well, in a while. Her muscles loosen inch by inch, and she carefully shifts in the hard kitchen chair, flexing her toes. Has it been hours since Daddy woke her with a kiss? Or only minutes? Difficult to tell. Her brain’s all fuzzy, her most recent memories unreliable.

While she’s distracted, Daddy’s fingers creep beneath the hem of her shirt—his shirt, technically—and stroke the small divots at the tops of her thighs. Her lower belly simmers with a low heat, and she grasps his wrists to keep him there. More touching, her eyes tell him, please keep touching me.

“Would I ever disappoint you, Rey?” he asks quietly, now massaging her hips. Men truck in and out of the house only a dozen yards away, but she doesn’t stop him. “I’m going to keep you safe and happy. That’s all that matters now.”

She closes her eyes, grateful for the reassurance, and tips her head back against the top of the chair. His fingers are magic, his touch like a spell, lulling her into a pleasant doze. Despite everything, despite her confusion and panic and the overwhelming urge to flee, she doesn’t doubt that he will continue to bring warmth and tenderness and love into her life.

So much love, in fact, she’ll probably be bloated with it. Literally and figuratively. More than once, after a night of particularly rough sex, her belly will noticeably balloon because of all the cum he'll force into her womb. For him, it’s never enough. Sometimes he'll even dump a load in her mouth before filling up her pussy so he can see and reassure himself that she's really and truly full of him.

“I know,” she whispers now, feeling more tears pool beneath her lids. The ache in her chest, right where her heart’s supposed to be, burns like a fresh wound. “I love you, Daddy.”

He shifts on his knees, nudges Kombucha aside, and lays his head in her lap. It’s heavy, but Rey finds she doesn’t mind. The weight keeps her grounded. Besides, it’s not unusual for his face to be stuffed in that particular area—he likes to lick her pussy clean after he brings her to orgasm.

Gently, like he’s poised to jerk back should she resist or show signs of panic, Daddy slides his palms under her thighs, cradling them in his rough hands. My skinny bean, he’ll call her sometimes—an affectionate nickname, and one meant to upset Mommy, who’s incredibly self-conscious of her figure.

That name sends a nauseating tremor through her body, and she has to swallow hard to tamp down a sudden surge of bile.

Before long, Daddy’s kissing her inner thighs and lapping up the remnants of her last climax with broad sweeps of his sandpaper tongue. He pries her legs further apart, murmuring encouragement, and she tucks Kombucha under one arm so she can play with his hair. Like always, it’s soft like velvet, dark like coal, and it slips through her fingers like ribbons of pure silk. She burrows her fingers deep, until her nails scratch his scalp.

“I love you,” she says again, breathless now. No matter what happens, that will never change.

Daddy’s breath hitches, but he nudges her thighs with his big nose, inhaling deeply. Sniffing her arousal like a beast intrigued by a fresh scent mark. Soon his lips work their way to her pussy, which is still sticky and smeared with his cum. That's pretty much its default state now. Breathing heavily, he plants a wet kiss on her center before licking her folds, using long, slow strokes of his tongue. Her back arches, and she shoves his head against her pussy, whining for him to kiss her there again.

“Just a quick taste,” he promises roughly, palming his cock through the seat of his slacks.

Rey rocks on the kitchen chair for a long minute, eyes rolling, as Daddy drinks deeply from her pussy, his chin slick with her juices, his plump lips seeking her clit. She cums in his mouth with little prompting and listens, half-mad, as he noisily licks her clean. Her thighs quiver around his head, and Kombucha falls to the floor when she readjusts her grip on his hair.

Just as Daddy’s lips nudge her swollen clit, someone across the room clears their throat.

Rey’s eyes snap open, and through a blurry haze she makes out one of the men in white painter’s overalls standing in the doorway to the kitchen. There are two round circles of color high in his cheeks, and he doesn’t meet her gaze.

Who are you? she wants to yell—to demand, in order to cover her instant embarrassment. Why are you here?

But Daddy’s less alarmed by the intrusion. He takes his time addressing the man. Instead of acknowledging his presence, Daddy sucks on her clit for another minute, tilting his head to attack it from a different angle, which makes her jerk upright with a whine.

Finally withdrawing, Daddy raises his head from under her shirt and immediately flips down the hem. He sits back, lips glistening with her cum, and it’s all she can do not to grab him by the nape of the neck and guide his mouth back where it belongs. She dreams about those lips.

With a satisfied grunt, Daddy carefully adjusts her shirt so her slick pussy and bruised thighs are hidden from view. He lifts his head and arches an expectant eyebrow at the man, an impatient What do you want? clear in his irritated expression.

“Ah, sorry for the—the interruption, sir,” the man stutters, cheeks flushing a darker red, “but, ah, Mr. Dameron has arrived.”

“He’s out front?” Daddy rises smoothly to his feet and grabs the straps of Rey’s go-bag.

“Yes. Yes, sir, he’s parked at the curb.”

Daddy nods absently and dismisses the man. Hefting her bag over one shoulder, he slides his fingers through hers, locking them together, and leads her out of the kitchen. Rey snatches Kombucha from the floor just in time and rests her chin on its squishy head.

They exit by way of the back door, avoiding the foyer, and circle around to the front lawn. Sure enough, Poe’s leaning against a fancy black town car parked at the curb, arms crossed, expensive sunglasses perched on the edge of his nose.

When he notices their approach, he grins and steps forward to greet them. “And if it isn’t the two remaining Solos—"

“Poe,” Daddy says, blowing right past him, “you want to be real careful what you say to me today.”

Despite the shades, Rey can tell when Poe’s expression shifts to one of indignation. “Now, wait a second—”

Wordlessly, Daddy shoves Rey’s tote into his chest and opens the back door to guide her in, not bothering to check if Poe catches it. He waits patiently for Rey to get settled before grabbing Poe by the shoulder.

“Your closet?” Daddy shakes his head and mutters, “Out of all the fucking places, Dameron—”

Reddening, Poe scratches the back of his head and stares across the street at nothing in particular. “Ah, yeah, that’s on me. I didn’t think Amilyn would call—”

But Daddy slams the door shut on him, cutting off his excuse. He doesn’t buckle Rey in like he usually does, though. Instead, he simply slumps back in his seat and, after a moment, pulls her into his side. They’re both quiet. Beyond the window, she watches Poe hang his head, roll his shoulders, and eventually start around back to the trunk, tote bag in hand.

Exhaustion threatens again—it seems to come and go in waves—so Rey shuts him out, and Daddy too. She stares at their house instead.

White shutters, beige shingles, red brick on the paths, and smooth black asphalt in the driveway. This is the home she’s known all her life. From day one, forty-eight hours in the hospital notwithstanding, she’s lived within these walls, in these rooms, in this neighborhood. She knows the stairs creak when you press them in just the right way. She knows there’s a stain on the kitchen wall where, as an overexcited toddler, she flung a streak of orange paint across the room. She knows all its little nooks and crannies, all its hidden spaces and gentle secrets. She knows every inch of this house, inside and out, top to bottom, because it’s always been hers and Daddy’s and—

No!

Shaking, she tears her eyes away from the house. Maybe it’s for the best, then, that they find somewhere new. It’ll be Rey and Daddy’s place, and only their place. They can start fresh. The thought makes her uneasy, so she blocks the idea out entirely.

After a brief conversation with one of the men in overalls, Poe opens the door and slides into the seat directly across from them. He taps the opaque divider with the back of his knuckles, signaling to the driver, and the town car slowly pulls away from the curb. Her house disappears behind them without fanfare, without so much as a whispered goodbye.

Uncomfortably warm, Rey shifts in her seat, subtly trying to put some distance between her and Daddy, but he pinches her hip and murmurs a warning. Tears pool in her eyes yet again—the very last thing she wants to do is upset him at a time like this—and she pushes her face into his button-down shirt instead. He smells like sweat and old cologne and just a subtle hint of her flowery perfume. Neither of them had time to shower before their lazy Saturday morning was interrupted.

“How did it happen?” Daddy asks finally, fussing with the hem of Rey’s shirt, which has ridden up her thighs.

Poe sighs and reluctantly pulls off his shades. His normally bright eyes are bloodshot. “She decided on a spur-of-the-moment, top-to-bottom cleaning.”

“You have maids for that.”

“Yes, well.” Poe shuts his eyes and offers a strained smile. “Am’s always been…spontaneous.”

“That’s it?” Daddy says politely. Rey shrinks against his side, sensing he’s close to losing his temper. “‘Am’s always been spontaneous?’ That’s all you’ve got for me?”

“I don’t know what you want me to tell you, Solo,” Poe says wearily. “I warned her to leave my side of the closet alone. Again and again, I drilled it into her fucking head, but—”

Daddy nods. “But.”

Uninterested in the conversation, Rey examines her nails. They’re all bitten to the quick, the cuticles ragged and dry-looking. At some point she must’ve been worrying them with her teeth, spitting them out like sunflower seeds, but she doesn’t remember. Hopefully Daddy won’t mind that they’re not a pretty pink. He loves when she gets all dolled up for him—in dresses and with makeup and pedicures. A picture-perfect princess.

“So where is it?”

Poe blinks and shakes himself out of a memory, or maybe just a micro-nap. “Uh, what? Where’s what?”

“Did you take care of Amilyn?” Daddy speaks slowly, drawing out each syllable, like he’s addressing a toddler.

“Mm.” Poe nods absently, then seems to realize what Daddy means. “Jesus Christ,” he scoffs, throwing his sunglasses to the floor. His shoes bump Rey’s socked feet, and she curls her toes inward. “I didn’t fucking kill my wife, Ben! She’s at the office right now.” He mumbles more inaudible curses under his breath.

“You sure she’s still there?”

The town car makes a right on Coruscant Boulevard, and Rey quickly shuts her eyes as they approach a small intersection. On the opposite side of the street is Mothma’s Homemade Ice Cream. She would go there after school sometimes, when the weather was hot and Mommy was feeling generous. They would order their usuals—coconut with rainbow sprinkles for Rey, mint chocolate chip for Mommy—and sit on a creaky old bench decorated with poorly scrawled initials and simple romantic declarations like R❤️B or A❤️P.

Her chest tightens at the memory, and Rey instinctively reaches for Kombucha. But before she can stuff her face into his soft green fur, Daddy tugs on her hips and coaxes her into his lap. She goes, mouth puckering as Kombucha falls to the floor. He’s going to get all dirty.

“Yes, I’m sure,” Poe mutters, staring out the window.

“I see.” Daddy sweeps her hair back from her face, gathering all the loose strands in a high ponytail, and somehow brandishes a sparkly green rubber band he uses to tie it all up. Rey sniffles as more tears soak her cheeks. “So she’s staying on, then.”

Thing is, Mommy would show her different hairstyles all the time. Braids and buns and tails, and techniques to keep her hair sleek and frizzy-free whenever she decided to leave it down, which was not very often. She prefers it out of her face. A cabinet in the master bathroom held dozens of clips and headbands and bobby pins—so many bobby pins! Hundreds, at least. Rey was constantly finding them between couch cushions and even occasionally in the soles of her shoes.

When she glances up from her ragged nails, she catches Poe’s eye. He gazes at her with something like sympathy, but it’s tinged with another emotion too, one much less innocent.

“Yes,” Poe says slowly. “Am’s staying on. I promised to explain and—” He cuts himself off as Daddy’s hands lift the hem of Rey’s T-shirt and bunch it up around her waist. Poe stares at her exposed pussy and swallows audibly. “I—I’ll keep her in line, Solo.”

“Mm.” Daddy presses his nose to the side of her head and inhales. “See that you do.”

Even though Rey clenches them into fists, her hands still shake uncontrollably. The tremors snake up her arms and into her shoulders, and Daddy kisses a spot right above her collarbone, eyes full of concern.

“Oh, baby, are you cold?” He clucks disapprovingly and slides his hands beneath her shirt to cup her breasts. “Let me warm you up,” he breathes, kissing down the side of her neck and working her nipples with the pads of his thumbs.

“I—I—” But she hiccups, and the words die in her throat. Her body is by turns freezing cold and burning hot. She’s lightheaded too, and the shaking is only getting worse.

What’s happening to me? she thinks, quietly panicking. Little by little, the numbness is wearing off. What is this?

“Ben—” Poe sounds like he’s being strangled, and she blinks him into focus. His cheeks are red, and his hands are bunched into big fists in his lap. She notices the subtle, grinding movement of his hips and realizes he’s aroused at the sight of Daddy’s hands on her naked body. It's clear Poe desperately wants to masturbate.

“Stay still for me, baby,” Daddy whispers, and when his thick fingers dip between her thighs to plug up both her holes, she whimpers and starts to cry in earnest.

No, she thinks dizzily, no, not now, not here. I don’t want to, I don’t—

“Tell me more about your plan to keep your wife in line, Dameron,” Daddy grunts, jamming his fingers deep, again and again until she’s convulsing in his lap. His fingers aren’t wet enough, and each time he probes her back entrance, pain flares like a white-hot rash. “I’m listening.”

It’s because of the pain that the next few minutes are a blur. At one point, the driver swerves across two lanes of traffic to an on-ramp, hitting several potholes and upsetting Rey’s balance. Daddy’s arms bind her to his chest, and his hand pumps feverishly between her legs until the loud, juicy squelch of her cum threatens to overwhelm Poe’s monotone voice. He drones on, and she catches words like impartiality and low-risk expectations and possible reconditioning, if he thinks that’ll be necessary.

Daddy doesn’t seem to notice her tears or gasping pleas to stop, please just stop!, and although she twists and fights against the pull, her body falls victim to his invasive fingers. She orgasms twice in ten minutes, and her little feet kick and spasm as Daddy assaults her clit, pressing on it with his thumb, rolling it with the tip of his index finger. He laughs when she begins to sob, and her mind detaches from her body so everything becomes blessedly distant.

I don’t want to do this now. I don’t want him to touch me, I don’t want his fingers there, I don’t like it, please, please—

Her feeble protests are drowned out, and she only manages a gasping scream before his mouth descends, muffling the panicked noises. With his free hand, Daddy plays with her tits, and as he whispers in excruciating detail how much he would enjoy throat-fucking her while she’s tied to his bedposts, she orgasms again, helpless to stop it.

Cum floods Daddy’s lap and puddles on the seat, but she can’t move because her limbs don’t seem to be working right. She’s breathing heavily through her mouth, and it’s only as she draws in a steadying breath that she notices her nose is stuffed, and her nose is stuffed because she’s still sobbing. It’s a loud, ugly sound, but Rey doesn’t know how to stop that, either. Her body is strange to her now, and with faint horror she realizes she’s no longer in control. She's slave to Daddy's fingers and her own bleak desires.

In the seat across from them, Poe’s gone quiet. She rolls her head on Daddy’s shoulder and looks over to find that his eyes are riveted to her pussy, and both of his hands are jammed down the front of his slacks. The material is tented around his considerable erection, and he grinds his teeth, jaw muscles taut and twitching, as he shamelessly, furiously masturbates.

“Shh, shh,” Daddy murmurs, and his fingers abruptly disappear from her holes. But Rey, inconsolable, continues to sob, her eyes so swollen that it’s difficult to see Poe only a few feet away. “Aw, baby, look at you! Come on, don’t be upset.”

Making sounds of disapproval, he gently grips her waist and spins her around so they’re facing each other. She holds fast to the collar of his shirt, shivering violently. Arranging her legs to either side of his hips, Daddy grabs the hem of her T-shirt, ruffles it playfully until she manages a watery smile, and then drags it over her head. He tosses it to the side and dives forward to lick a nipple, hands roaming everywhere at once, as if it’s been days or weeks since he last saw her naked and not simply a few hours.

The cold air pumping from the AC raises goosebumps on her arms, and she shivers again and cries harder, mouth open in a wordless, gasping howl. She crosses her arms over her breasts, but Daddy peels them away immediately, casually thumping the side of her head to keep her from doing it again.

“I—I don’t think she’s—” Poe stumbles over his words, his voice strained as he tries to make himself cum. His hand slows its violent stroking but doesn’t stop. “Ben, she doesn’t look…well.”

“No, no.” Daddy waves a dismissive hand, licking up the dried sweat on the undersides of her breasts. “She’s fine.”

Poe seems doubtful. “I—”

“My skinny bean misses her Mommy,” he coos, his lips grazing her forehead. “She’s so sad Mommy’s gone, aren’t you, baby?”

Rey nods tiredly, rubbing her eyes with the backs of her hands like a child. Her chest is caving in, inch by agonizing inch, and she doesn’t know what to do to stop it, or even if it can be stopped. Pain floods through her body in pulses just as swiftly as tears flood out.

Obviously unconcerned by her behavior, Daddy holds on to her waist and plays with her nipples, spending considerable time licking and sucking on the pebbled tips before nibbling on the gentle swell of her breasts. He bites down with his sharp canines, and Rey shrieks and writhes on his lap. Behind them, Poe groans and shudders as he noisily climaxes, and although she is very aware that he’s not actually touching her anywhere, she still feels his eyes raking her skin like a second pair of greedy, roaming hands.

“Ben,” Poe says hoarsely, shifting closer. “Why don’t we—”

“Sit back,” Daddy orders roughly, and Poe instantly obeys. There’s another long minute of tense silence as he continues torturing her nipples, but eventually he pulls away and adds, “Hands flat on the seat, Dameron. I want your palms up.”

Poe presses his lips together in a tight line but complies. Rey, who’s stopped crying for the time being, leans the side of her head against Daddy’s cheek and curls into him as he unzips his fly and shoves his slacks down to his knees. His hot flesh melds with hers, sweat and day-old grime mixing as she rubs her tits on his chest. She's simply too tired to resist.

He wraps a big fist around his engorged cock and pulls experimentally, watching her through hooded eyes. It’s a snug fit, as always, but Rey’s cum four times already in a very limited time frame, and Daddy’s impatient by nature. So their joining is quick and easy—a familiar routine for them both now—and when he’s fully sheathed inside her pussy, her muscles relax and allow him to stretch her wide. She sighs quietly, and Daddy cups her bottom to keep her firmly mounted.

Although his eyes remain fastened on Rey’s face, he turns his attention to the man across the aisle. “Now. You are not to touch yourself for the rest of this car ride. Do you understand?”

Poe looks bewildered. “Well—”

“If you raise those hands off that seat,” Daddy interrupts, drawing out the words, “I will cut off a finger. One for each time you don’t listen.”

Poe’s mouth goes slack, and for two heartbeats he simply stares. His fingers twitch at his sides, but he keeps the backs of his hands pressed into the leather seat. This might’ve intrigued—or horrified—her at some point in the not-so-distant past, but Rey’s not really listening. She feels her daddy buried deep inside her pussy, his body hot and hard and thrumming, and that’s enough. The rest of the world falls away into a remote, unimportant space, and she allows herself to sink into him, to disappear.

Daddy absently runs his fingers through Rey’s hair, mussing up her ponytail. “Do you understand me, Dameron.”

Poe swallows thickly but nods again. “Yes, sir. I do.”

“Hands where I can see them,” Daddy warns him, and then plants his own hands on Rey’s hips to rock her on his cock.

She whines at the feel of him buried there, so deep it’s like they've melded into one body. Daddy laughs at the dazed expression on her face and rolls her hips for her, pushing his pelvis up in short, lazy strokes. With a breathless moan, Rey twines her arms around his neck to play with the silky strands of hair that overlap his shirt collar.

“Relax,” he whispers, his hot mouth brushing the curve of her ear. “Let me do all the work, precious.”

All her worries fade to a distant, background hum. Rey gazes at him trustingly and kisses the corner of his mouth before settling her head on his shoulder. People cope with scary situations in different ways—obviously, sex is his relief, a path to managing his mixed emotions. She shouldn’t have judged him for that. If she hadn’t so stubbornly resisted his wandering fingers, maybe she would’ve enjoyed it more.

Too late to fix any of that now, though. She’ll just have to make it up to him somehow.

Daddy doesn’t hesitate when the last of her resistance crumbles. He thrusts up sharply, once, twice, then sets a punishing rhythm. She bobbles in his lap like a loose-limbed rag doll, moaning and whimpering when he slams into her pussy so hard that bursts of white light scatter across her field of vision. He cums in less than a minute, murmuring praise for her tight cunt, for how well her little body fits against him, and for how desperately her yummy pussy drinks his cum.

“Like it’s starving for me. You want my seed that bad—“ Groaning, Daddy grinds their hips together until her eyes roll back. “—all you have to do is ask, Rey.”

The town car exits the highway, rattling over potholes and uneven pavement, and heads in the direction of a few rural towns. She clings to him for balance while Poe’s breathing becomes loud and erratic behind them. So far, Daddy hasn’t lost his temper, which means Poe’s hands must still be flat on the seat where they’re supposed to be. She has no idea where Daddy's put his gun, but she doesn’t doubt a knife is within easy reach, should he need it. Her daddy has always kept secrets, naturally, but never anything of this magnitude.

Never anything truly dangerous.

But then her thoughts scatter, and she mewls as Daddy bounces her roughly on his dick. The sharp slap of their wet skin meeting overpowers the hum of the AC, and she grasps behind her to plant her hands on his knees, to ride him fast and hard and rough. Her spine arches as he plunges into her, and she tilts her head back to gape soundlessly at the roof. Oh god, she thinks wildly, oh god, oh god, oh— He hits her clit at just the right angle, and that’s it—she lets loose a hoarse sob and cums. Thick cream dribbles down his shaft in sticky ropes, but he stays rooted deep inside her pussy while she rides the orgasm. Utterly spent, she collapses on his chest and immediately falls into a light doze.

“...About the motel.”

Startled out of his slack-jawed stupor, Poe drags his eyes away from her abused pussy and blinks. “Uh—what about it?”

Daddy tugs on the end of her ponytail, wiping a bead of sweat off her brow. “Tell Rey what we were really doing there.”

The other man’s face goes white. His fingers twitch again, almost violently, and his Adam’s apple bobs with a hard swallow. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Poe,” Daddy says scoldingly. He carefully brushes aside a few pieces of Rey’s hair that cling to her sweaty forehead. “Don’t play that game with me. You really think you’re in a position to refuse?”

Poe presses his lips together in a thin, white line and keeps quiet.

Unimpressed with his resistance, Daddy turns his attention back to Rey. He cups her bottom with one hand, his fingers spread across both cheeks, and draws his other hand close to her mouth. Rey shakes with exhaustion and just a sliver of uncertainty, but she parts her lips to allow him access. His finger settles on her tongue, and she sucks slowly, tasting cum and sweat and Daddy. Her body is sore and achy, and it’s probably a good thing they’ll be in the car awhile yet because her legs don’t have any strength left in them.

“We’re listening.”

Poe exhales and clears his throat. “Well, you know we were—”

“You’re talking to Rey,” Daddy interrupts, a soft threat in his voice.

“Right.” Poe hesitates, then starts again. “Well, uh, Rey, your dad and I—we both agreed to this motel arrangement. It was supposed to be twice a week, initially, but that, uh…” He scratches the back of his neck, cheeks reddening. “Obviously, we spent a lot more time in the rooms than…than we planned.”

For the past month, they’ve been meeting nearly every weekday at the motel before school starts at eight. So to say they overshot the mark of twice a week is a bit of an understatement. Rey’s eyes drift shut again, and she hums around Daddy’s finger. He strokes her hair—a subtle reassurance that he’s not going anywhere.

“You see, the thing is—“ Poe, visibly uncomfortable, shifts on the leather seat. “Rey, I understand your father told you the motel was my idea. But that’s, uh, that’s not true.”

A long pause.

“Go on,” Daddy prods, pressing a light kiss to the crown of Rey’s head.

She wiggles in his lap and wrinkles her nose. Let me sleep.

“Yes, ah—” Poe briefly shuts his eyes. “Well, you see, Rey, this…arrangement was actually your dad’s idea. He saw things on my phone that—”

“What did I see?” Daddy asks in a deceptively light tone.

Poe flinches and pulls at his shirt collar. “Pictures. He saw pictures, Rey, of…of you.”

Now this sparks her interest. Her post-orgasm haze recedes in a snap, and she blinks owlishly at the man sitting opposite them. Daddy’s cock throbs as she twists in her seat, and though pleasure unspools through her like a gentle breeze, she ignores the feeling. At a glance, it's clear that Poe’s extremely nervous—she doesn’t have to be a psychologist to recognize the signs. But then, she also doesn’t have to ask what he means by pictures because he says the next part in one breath.

“I had snapped some, uh, photos of you, Rey, and I—“ One look at Daddy’s face spurs him on. “God, I, ah, looked at them sometimes. When I jerked off. You were in your bathing suit, mostly, but there were some with you in your, uh, underwear as well.” His voice shakes. “And a few taken right after you showered.”

Naked. She abruptly lifts her head off Daddy’s chest, and his finger slips from her mouth. He took pictures of her naked. In her own bedroom. “How many?” she demands, lips trembling.

“Hundreds,” Daddy says flatly.

Poe swallows audibly again and doesn’t meet her eyes. “Understandably, your dad was upset, and so he—told me that I would have to—that I had to watch, but I couldn’t—I wasn’t allowed to touch you.” He offers her a weak smile but quickly looks back down at the floor when Daddy shifts menacingly.

“I don’t understand,” she says softly, tears leaking from her eyes. Since the accident this morning, she’s been prone to crying at the drop of a hat, and her confusion about what the hell Poe's doing makes everything significantly worse.

Clucking his tongue, Daddy guides her head back to his chest and slides his finger into her mouth again. She tries to resist—there’s more she wants to say—but he adds pressure until she submits and goes limp.

“Poe did something very bad, baby, and I couldn’t let it slide. He made me very upset. You know what happens when you break a rule?”

She nods tentatively. Bad things happen.

“You’re punished. That’s right.” Daddy smiles at Poe, who appears to shrink in his seat. “I deleted all of those naughty pictures, but that wasn’t enough for me, Rey. I had to make him understand that you were not to be touched. It was obvious Mr. Dameron had become infatuated with you, baby, which is flattering but also quite unacceptable. I needed him to watch while Daddy fucked you. I needed him to see you cry and scream and beg for Daddy’s cock so he’d understand that you are off limits.

“Now,” he adds with a low laugh, “allowing him to take your panties home…” A quick, vicious smile thrown like a dart at Poe. “Well, that was just Daddy being generous.”

Rey’s head spins. All along, she thought they were meeting at the motel because Poe requested it. Which might’ve seemed odd, because Daddy doesn’t like to share, but no one else was ever allowed to lay a hand on her, and that applied especially to Poe. They're both extremely virile men, and Rey's never been opposed to having them in the same room. If Poe's wife wasn't fulfilling his desires, she was more than happy to put on a show to get him off.

After reasoning that out, she hadn’t given the arrangement much thought.

But now Daddy’s saying it was his idea to have sex while Poe watched, and that upsets her entire understanding of the situation. She’s not sure what kind of punishment that is, since Poe seemed to enjoy it even without participating—but what does she know? Most of the time she was face down, ass up on the mattress anyway. Daddy rarely allowed for time to think.

“And what do we say to Rey?” Daddy rubs the tip of his finger across her lip, pushing into her mouth until his thick knuckle bumps her teeth. She whimpers and gags.

“I’m sorry, Rey. It wasn’t right of me to take pictures of you. I shouldn’t have done that.” Poe bows his head, and she sees the slight tremble in his upturned fingers. He’s afraid, she realizes with surprise. Afraid of Daddy.

Apparently convinced of his contrition, Daddy finally lets the subject drop. Across from them, Poe slumps back into the seat, his expression shifting to one of regret. Maybe he’s wishing he never took those photos in the first place. No doubt Daddy still has some future punishment in store for him. He’s not the kind of man to let things go.

She remembers all those nights when Daddy gently closed her bedroom door after kissing her goodnight and disappeared down the hall to the master. To Mommy. The hollow ache in her chest kept her up many hours afterward. She still doesn’t know what went on in there, if anything. So in a sense, yeah, she knows what it’s like to imagine the object of your desire kissing and touching and loving on someone else. Forcing Poe to sit still and watch them fuck several times a week was probably not his favorite part of the day.

No wonder Daddy was so aggressive. He probably saw those pictures as a threat. It’s not in his nature to tolerate the idea of another man, let alone his closest friend, who might whisk her away from him.

Mommy’s voice suddenly echoes in her mind, and her chest constricts like there’s a rubber band pulled taut around her lungs. Men like to claim, Rey. It doesn’t matter where you are or what you’re doing—what’s important to him is showing the world that you belong to him now. Men like your daddy possess an almost uncontrollable need to claim their women.

Daddy kisses Rey’s temple, drawing her back to the present, and shrugs, seemingly unconcerned with the issue. “Well, we don’t have to worry about the motel again.”

“Yes, sir,” Poe murmurs, straightening. His demeanor shifts to one of stiff professionalism. “The house you’ve selected is set on fourteen acres, and we’ve clocked the nearest neighbor roughly two miles down the road. All the bedrooms have been soundproofed, per your request.”

Daddy grunts his approval and nuzzles Rey’s neck, his five o’clock shadow rubbing rough, like sandpaper, on her skin. Cum oozes between her thighs, cool now but still sticky and thick. It’s such a familiar sensation that she hardly notices it dripping from her pussy. Sometimes, when Daddy’s feeling unusually frustrated, he’ll make her wear too-small undies soaked in his seed. Not just for a few hours, either—all day long. From breakfast in the morning through mid-day classes to homework late in the evening. By the end of the day, there’s usually an obvious smell wafting up from between her legs, and its potency will make her eyes itch with tears. Like the raw smell of an onion, except somehow more ripe.

She suspects there’ll be plenty of those days ahead of her now. Daddy’s generally a confident man, but when it comes to their relationship, he needs to be reassured nearly as often as she does. Today’s been a huge setback, what with Poe's proximity and all the strange men roaming through the house.

Thankfully, it’s not much longer before they’re pulling into a long driveway. The thin silver hands on Daddy’s watch point to ten o’clock, which means they’ve been in the car for nearly three hours. Rey lifts her head off his chest, still sucking on his fingers, and stares at the magnificent oak trees lining the narrow drive. Between the dense layer of leaves, she catches glimpses of a landscape dotted with manicured grass and pastel flowers and the occasional grouping of manicured shrubbery. For the most part, however, the lawn is flat and unadorned.

The town car glides to a stop in front of an enormous set of double doors. They’re carved with a strange hexagonal pattern, which is ringed by smaller crimson symbols. Rey isn't sure what that means, but since it’s engraved in the front doors, it must be important somehow. Maybe it’s a family crest? The house seems old enough for that. Well, mansion, really. The place is at least three stories tall with stiff Grecian columns made of white marble, and there are strategically placed spires on the gently sloping roof. Not a hair out of place; everything’s been meticulously, almost ridiculously, maintained. Similar to that of a museum.

Daddy plants a kiss to the curve of her ear. “Look at that. We’re here.”

She gently takes hold of his wrist and extracts his fingers from her mouth. “Daddy, where are we?”

He presses his face to the crown of her head, and she feels a smile stretch wide on his lips. “Home, baby. We’re home.”

Her heart lurches painfully hard in her chest at this declaration, and Rey chokes out a wheezing gasp. Although she’s been suppressing it fairly well up to this point, the shaking overwhelms her again, and soon her teeth are chattering. Alarmed, Daddy folds himself around her and murmurs quietly into her hair—“This is for us. Just you and me, baby. Breathe.”—while she struggles to pull herself together.

Home, home, home. The word rings in her ears like a curse. How can this be home? It’s massive and intimidating and too far from their suburb. They don’t need a new home. The one they already have is just fine.

“It’s too big,” she whispers, shrinking into him. So many rooms. She could get lost here. Isn’t that how most hauntings begin—a young girl wandering off on her own in an echoing mansion decades past its prime, followed by creepy statues and unpleasant oil paintings of the original family?

“We need the space,” he says, leaning forward to swipe her shirt off the floor.

“Why?”

Daddy grunts a low laugh as he shakes free a few crumbs of dirt that have burrowed into the soft cotton. “For my job, mostly. But for our babies too.”

“Our...babies,” she repeats blankly. The statement has completely thrown her. What does that mean?

“Yes.” He hands over her shirt and lifts her up so his cock flops free, then resettles her on his knees so he can stuff himself back into his slacks and pull the zipper up. She throws the shirt over her head and, before he can hide himself away, tentatively strokes his cock, which is slicked with globs of cum. Their cum. “As soon as things calm down and we get you all settled in, we’ll start trying.”

Rey isn’t following.

He laughs again, oblivious to her confusion, and playfully sways aside her hand so he can zip up his slacks. “I imagine it won’t take more than a couple of tries. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re already a few weeks along." The thought makes him frown. "I"ll have Poe schedule an appointment with a gyno. We should probably have someone pick up a bottle of prenatal vitamins, too. Just in case.”

Her head spins with this information, and she presses her fingers to her temple. Has he lost his mind? No one should be having babies. When she was much younger, Rey had nagged for a little sister so often—and with such relentless persistence—that eventually her parents would shut down a conversation as soon as they suspected that’s where she was going. For the most part, she’s never minded being an only child, but it’s also hard to look past the fact that she’s always been outnumbered two to one.

She and Daddy have never expressly talked about pregnancy. It’s obvious to her that he’s not all that concerned about it—not when they’ve already gone weeks without a condom, and the few times they did try using one, Daddy had casually flicked it off before either of them climaxed—but frankly, she’s not ready to be a mom. Maybe a few years down the line, but certainly not before she’s graduated high school. Teen moms don’t exactly have a great reputation.

Their chauffeur appears on the other side of the window and opens the back door. Poe hesitates, but at a nod from Daddy climbs out first. She clambers off his lap, adjusting her shirt, but he tugs on her hips to keep her still so he can fuss with her hair, which is rumpled and half falling out of his makeshift ponytail. He smooths his hands down her sides, gazing at her face like he’s analyzing it for some specific reaction or emotion.

But she’s tired and impatient, and when his hands briefly fall away, she scrambles out of the town car without asking permission. Fresh, pine-scented air sweeps over her like a balm, and for the first time since leaving the old house, her hands stop shaking completely.

The mansion—because it is a mansion—blocks out the blue sky, but late afternoon sunshine illuminates it from behind so that a monstrous shadow covers most of the front lawn. Windows upon windows upon windows—Rey doesn’t dare count how many, and she quickly looks away before the sight makes her even dizzier. The day's events have not been good for her head.

To put it simply, it's overwhelming. And god, there’s so much space. They’re obviously well outside the suburbs now—not even the community parks have this kind of unobstructed openness, nor so much untouched greenery. She can’t be sure exactly how long they drove because she faded in and out of consciousness quite a few times, but her guess that it’s at least three hours probably isn’t far off.

However, Rey notices one major difference between here and there. Here, it’s so very, very quiet.

Daddy steps up behind her and places a hand on her bottom. “What do you think, baby?”

She bites her bottom lip, tearing off a layer of skin in a bloody strip. “Um, it’s nice, I guess.” Her opinion from earlier still stands: too big.

Their chauffeur shuts the back door, and Rey jumps, her muscles bunching and her skin drawing too tight around her bones. She feels stretched thin all of a sudden, like if she makes one wrong move the world as she knows it will simply snap out of alignment. Daddy’s hand slides up to cup the back of her neck—reassuringly, she supposes, but the hair on her arms stands on end.

“Just nice?” he says teasingly. “Tough crowd.”

Normally, Rey would giggle and nuzzle his chest or arm, but she's quickly realizing that she would really prefer some…distance right now. She’s feeling a little suffocated, despite the fresh air and general openness. Her hands are weirdly sweaty, and she doesn’t want them to start shaking again because then it just becomes so obvious that she’s nervous and unsure. But she knows the tremors will probably start up again as soon as she enters this new house.

Not a home. A house.

“Forgetting something?”

Jerking back, Rey whips around to find Kombucha dangling from one hand. Daddy crouches down before her and smooths a hand down her thigh, then hooks it behind her knee. She staggers forward a step, and his arm wraps snugly around her hips. For some reason, she gets the impression he’s worried she’ll dart out of reach again like she did in the car.

“Why don’t you and Kombucha explore the house?” He waggles his eyebrows goofily and adds, “There’s a sunroom and deck out back, and a full basement and a room with a grand piano inside.” Daddy’s smile wavers, and for the first time she notices the deep shadows carved beneath his eyes. They’re subtle, and he still looks wildly handsome—that’ll never change—but the sight of those smudges makes her frown.

“Where will you be?” she asks anxiously, even as part of her yearns for some time alone. But if she ever has to make a choice between Daddy and personal space, there’s going to be an obvious winner.

He glances over her shoulder, and his face transforms. Gone are the smiles, the silly expressions, and the light in his eyes. Instead, something much darker replaces them. “This is a big move for us, Rey, and I don’t want there to be any loose ends. I need to discuss…logistics with Mr. Dameron.”

Rey strokes Kombucha’s soft face, her finger poking at its tiny smile. “Okay, Daddy.”

“Don’t go far,” he warns seriously, patting her tummy. “You’re not to go beyond the deck out back.”

Fear shoots through her like a comet. That’s....not encouraging. Is there something out there she should be worried about? More men with guns? “Why not?”

But Daddy simply shakes his head and straightens to his full height. “We need to be careful. Only for a little while, until the whole situation with Mommy—”

It was an accident. The thought pops into her head again, fully formed this time, and she eagerly grasps for it. There’s a subdued click in her ears, like two troublesome gears finally slotting into place, and Rey smiles. Right. That makes sense. It explains why they’ve both been a little off today. Mommy had an accident this morning, but it’s fine. These things happen.

It’s fine.

“—dies down.” Daddy curls a finger under her chin and tilts her head back until she meets his eyes. “Life here is going to be very different from back home, Rey. I’m going to be busy with my new job, and you’ll probably see quite a few new people coming and going. It’s a transition, but you don’t have to worry, okay?”

Frustration rises from the depths of her chest, pushing aside the tears and anxiety, and she valiantly attempts to fight it back. ‘Transition’? What does that mean? And who are all these people that will supposedly be wandering around the mansion? Is that normal here? Her brain refuses to latch on to anything he’s saying—because it’s all so confusing, and he doesn’t appear to be very forthcoming with the explanations. In fact, the longer he talks about things she doesn’t understand, the more Rey just wants to get the hell away from him.

Sniffling, she clutches Kombucha to her chest and starts to turn away, but Daddy reaches out and gently guides her back around. She resists at first, and his smile dips into an amused smirk. His big hands squeeze her waist, and when she pouts, Daddy yanks her up against him until her feet dangle just above his own. She gathers the silky material of his shirt in a hard fist, and with her other hand, she pulls her stuffie close for reassurance.

“Remember what I told you, Rey,” Daddy says gruffly. His brows furrow with concern. “Don’t go far. Please. You’ll make me worry.”

“I know—“ she sighs, exasperated, but he quickly interrupts.

“I’d prefer it if you stayed in my line of sight, but I understand the size of the house makes that impossible.” His lips twitch. “Now give me a kiss.”

If this is what it takes to give me even a minute of alone time… Rey tugs gently on his shirtfront so he’ll bend down, and when his nose bumps hers, she presses her lips to his mouth in a soft kiss. He sucks in a sharp breath and kisses her back, instantly eager and messy and frantic. A hand cups the back of her head to keep her still. She hears someone whistle—Poe, maybe?—and attempts to break the kiss, but Daddy holds fast.

With his tongue jammed halfway down her throat, Rey breathes him in and patiently reminds herself that he’s wildly overprotective purely because she’s belonged to him from the moment she took her very first breath, and sixteen years is quite a long time to wait for love. Her heart flutters as his massive body surrounds her, as it blocks out the rest of the world so they can live in their very own.

Daddy finally lets her draw back, although his face twitches with worry. “I love you. Be careful. For me.”

Her voice is small, but she pushes out the words anyway because they’re true—and because he expects to hear them. “I love you too.”

With obvious reluctance, like it pains him to let her loose, Daddy sets her back on the ground, and she immediately sprints for the front doors, Kombucha bunched beneath her arm. There are strange, uniformed men spaced evenly, about several dozen feet apart, around the vast perimeter of the mansion—but they don’t appear to be doing anything specific. Just…pacing. She notes the suits and holsters, the click and chatter of walkie-talkies, and does her best to tamp down her fear because Daddy wasn’t worried, and she always takes her cues from him. So she blocks them all out, if only because she can only handle one mystery at a time.

Rey doesn’t have a destination in mind—and how could she, when this house is as much a stranger to her as the men outside—but her feet carry her through an impressively styled foyer and up an imposing central staircase. The climb is a bit arduous, or maybe she’s just extremely out of shape, but when she ascends to the top landing what feels like twenty minutes later, she’s breathing heavily through both her mouth and nose.

Wiping sweat off her neck, she turns back the way she came and looks down the marble stairs—which she immediately regrets. Her heart lurches, and she stumbles sideways. It’s a long, long way down to the bottom.

A hallway stretches on either side of the main staircase, and from where she’s standing, Rey can tell there are at least a dozen doors, some open, some closed, down each corridor. Since no one’s currently keeping tabs on her—for once—Rey catches her breath and allows for time to decide which direction to explore. She chooses the left simply because that’s where she’s facing.

The vast hallway echoes with her timid footsteps. Each room she passes is completely empty. Devoid of furniture, decor, and paint schemes other than a boring white, the house seems to be…not abandoned, but certainly hollow. How long has it been since someone lived here? Is Daddy going to fill up all of these rooms? They only need two bedrooms, after all, and maybe three bathrooms. One for each of them.

She stops outside two closed double doors at the end of the hall. They’re made of dark wood, and again, that hexagonal symbol is embedded in the center. They actually seem to be a less grand version of the front doors. Although the house has a distinctly intimidating air, and she's still not totally convinced it's not haunted, Rey's not the least bit afraid as she grasps the polished handles and throws open the doors to reveal—the master bedroom.

Which, of course, is the size of a small department store.

The dark hardwood floors are bare but glossy, like they’ve been recently cleaned. But that only makes sense if Daddy was planning to arrive here several days in advance. She doesn’t think that’s the case, but she doesn’t know for sure. In fact, there’s a lot of things she doesn’t know. Sooner or later, Daddy will have to give her some answers.

She won’t leave him any choice.

In the center of the room is a bare mattress, positioned snuggly in a fancy steel bedframe. It’s brand new and obviously king-sized, she can tell by sight alone, but devoid of blankets or pillows or even a simple duvet. A shiver runs through her at the sight. In the middle of such a vast space, surrounded by emptiness, the bed looks kind of…lonely. Sad, too. Dejected, abandoned, forgotten.

Hesitating in the doorway, on the off chance someone else might be in one of the attached rooms, Rey squeezes Kombucha’s soft center and knocks her knuckles against the dark wood. A minute passes, and no one suddenly appears from the shadows, so she slowly walks into the room.

She’s been suffering a dull headache since this morning, and instead of abating, it’s only gotten worse throughout the day. Exhaustion swims in the corners of her vision—she didn’t get much sleep last night because of Daddy. Not that she’s necessarily complaining, but she does feel like she’s been up for days and days instead of only a few short hours.

Rey drags herself to the center of the room and sits on the edge of the mattress, which sinks a little under her weight. It smells brand new too, and she notices a sale tag, price torn off, peeking from the underside of the frame.

Well. Now that she’s finally alone, now that it’s finally quiet, she can think.

Inhaling deeply—which turns out to be a good idea because the air smells faintly of lemon cleaner—Rey gazes blankly around the master bedroom. There’s nothing to see, of course, but it reminds her of three summers ago when Mommy inexplicably got it into her head to redecorate her and Daddy’s room—the master.

For weeks, Mommy drove the two of them back and forth between Home Depot, Lowes, and Ace Hardware, pulling those fun little paint sample cards by the dozens, chatting up reluctant sales associates about closet space, and debating the pros and cons of gloss versus matte hardwood flooring. She would spend literal hours scrolling through home renovation blogs, searching for organizing techniques and soothing color palettes. Every so often, Mommy would consult with Daddy, who made it clear he wanted nothing to do with the project.

Yet for some reason, no matter how passionately Rey resisted becoming a part of this endeavor, it was she whom Mommy sought for help. As if she cared even a little about paint colors and wallpaper patterns and stackable shelving! What did it matter what her parents’ bedroom looked like, anyway?

At the time, Rey was just becoming aware of her growing jealousy towards Mommy and the special relationship she had with Daddy. That is, a relationship that excluded Rey, who started avoiding Mommy at all costs. Rey said a firm no to shopping trips, hair appointments, lunch dates, and even their weekly ice cream sojourns. But Mommy didn’t seem to get the memo because she kept trying—and so Rey kept pushing her away as best she could.

Their relationship was strained long before Daddy started paying her nightly visits.

Rey swallows past a sudden nausea. Now that she really thinks about it, there are so many memories from her early adolescence that follow the same trajectory: Mommy wants to do something, Rey resists, and their relationship deteriorates just a little more. From trips to the mall and nail salon to spa retreats and beach days, she refused to join in. If it meant spending time with her mother—especially one-on-one, with no interference—Rey would do her very best to make excuses.

At the time, she tried to find fault with everything Mommy did. It was surprisingly easy, too. Maybe since Rey knew her so well.

She hated Mommy’s big white smile and button nose—because Rey inherited both, and deep down she secretly thought they looked much better on Mommy. She hated her mother’s too-tight outfits that she bought from stores like Charlotte Russe and Forever21—stores where girls her age were supposed to shop. She hated all of Mommy’s fancy necklaces and rings and earrings because most were gifts from Daddy—or they were paid for by his credit card, which was nearly the same thing. She hated the way Mommy flushed so prettily when she drank wine and snorted when she laughed too hard at a dumb joke. She hated Mommy’s warm hugs and earnest I-love-yous and the passionate enthusiasm with which she threatened to slap the girl who always tripped Rey outside her math classroom in eighth grade.

Most of all, she hates that Mommy isn’t here right now, because she’s tired and scared and alone, and she doesn’t understand what they’re doing in a house this big outside the suburbs. A house that is not and will never be a home.

Just once, she wishes she told Mommy yes instead of fighting it. Just once, she wishes they spent time together doing something that truly mattered. Just once.

Rey pushes her face into Kombucha’s dumb green and yellow fur to stifle a sob. She shouldn’t dwell on those kinds of memories. They're upsetting, and this is all temporary anyway. It must be. She clearly doesn’t belong here, and neither does Daddy, even though he seems convinced of the opposite. They’ll live in this stupid mansion for a little while until Mommy recovers, and then all three of them will move home, and things will go back to normal.

She raises her head and nods to herself, wiping away snot and tears. Yes, that’s exactly what’s going on. She must’ve gotten Daddy’s words all twisted around. This is all temporary.

Mommy had an accident, but she’s okay. That’s all. No big deal.

With that in mind, Rey sags on the mattress and allows relief to pour through her in waves. She and Daddy will eat and sleep and fuck in this mansion for a few weeks at best and then move out. If she's lucky, Rey will never have to look at the sprawling lawns and large, empty rooms ever again. True, Mommy might be upset at first by her relationship with Daddy, but once they explain how much they love each other, she's sure Mommy will understand and accept it.

Everything makes sense now. Rey nods, and nods again, and keeps nodding. Of course, it all makes absolutely perfect sense.

At some point, she becomes aware of a shadow in the doorway. She glances up and realizes Daddy’s leaning against the frame, big hands in his pockets, head tilted to the right. His eyes are soft, lit in pretty shades of amber, and Rey’s insides melt. This is what he looks like when he’s happy. It’s not an emotion she sees on his face very often, but when she does, it’s usually because they’re together.

“Hi, Daddy,” she says, her voice rough with unshed tears. (Apparently, she has an endless supply.)

He doesn’t speak at first, which is fine. She’ll wait. His eyes travel from her face to the bare mattress to the adjoining master bath, then up to the skylights and out to the balcony jutting from the back of the mansion. Then he’s gazing at her again with that look—the one that devours her piece by piece, that peels away the layers of her skin until she’s bare before him, the one that has always said, You are mine and I am yours and there is nothing you can do about it.

“I hope you like white,” he says from the doorway.

She offers him a puzzled smile. “Why white?”

“The sheets and comforter I ordered are arriving today. The Grand Ivory set was highly recommended.”

Rey glances behind him at the yawning hallway. Isn’t there enough white in this place already? But she only shrugs. “That’s fine.”

Daddy peels himself off the doorframe and saunters inside the room, his smile ticking up inch by inch as he approaches her side of the bed. “Fortunately, the set includes sixteen pillows.”

“Fortunately,” she repeats blankly. Why should she care what his bedroom looks like?

“I know how much you love to be comfy.” Daddy stops right before her and, with a salacious wink, pushes her legs wide so he can settle between them. He’s so big that her thigh muscles protest at the stretch. “You really like to snuggle after sex, so I thought having extra pillows would be a nice bonus for us.”

The word jolts her out of her weird, self-induced stupor. Sex. Sex. Sex. She’s not sure why it startles her so much, to hear him say it so bluntly, but her stomach twists and tears rise again. That’s what they do, isn’t it? Have sex. Lots and lots of sex. Press their naked bodies together and kiss and lick and scream until they’re a sweaty, writhing mass amidst his rumpled bed sheets and her ripped clothes.

That’s what they do—what they’ve always done. They love each other.

“I…do like to snuggle,” she says slowly. Understanding dawns on her then. They don’t even need two bedrooms. Daddy expects her to sleep with him here, in the master.

Daddy rests the very tips of his fingers on her shoulders and pushes her down flat on the mattress. She goes without resistance and stares up at him, legs spread around his hips. A familiar, ravenous expression shadows his face. It can’t have been more than an hour since he bounced her on his dick in the back of the town car, yet he’s already seeking release. Again and again and again, week after week—Daddy would fuck her a dozen times a day if their schedules allowed it. He’s insatiable.

“We need to christen the house,” he murmurs, stroking her bare tummy. “This room, the bed—everywhere.” His throat bobs as he swallows. “Do you know how many rooms are in this place, Rey?”

She shakes her head, and he bunches her nightgown up to the undersides of her breasts. “Forty-five. There are forty-five rooms.”

“Th-that’s a lot,” Rey stutters, clutching Kombucha to her side as Daddy wets the tip of his finger and glides it back and forth between her folds. Her knee jerks against his hip.

“Mhm. I figure we should have them all christened by the end of the week.”

“Daddy,” she whispers, and there’s a catch in her voice that makes his head snap up. He sees the tears in her eyes, and his intensity recedes.

“Oh, precious, what’s wrong?” He reluctantly pulls back and smooths down her T-shirt so she’s not so exposed. As if it matters, when they’re the only two in the room.

But this is an opportunity, and she’s not going to waste it.

Rey scrambles further back on the mattress and settles herself against the wooden headboard. Better to insert some space between them so Daddy won't be tempted to drag her under him anyway. Her breathing’s shallow, and there’s that annoying headache pounding at her temples—it’s no longer dull, nor subtle. For the past few hours, her body’s been cold one minute and sweating profusely the next. Yet somehow, Daddy is totally and completely fine. In fact, he's been acting like everything is normal, which only makes her feel helplessly confused—and kind of crazy.

I want to go home. I don’t want to have sex right now. I hate white because it’s boring and ugly and reminds me of a hospital. All things she desperately wants to tell him. But instead she blurts, “Why are we here?”

And Daddy exhales through his nose, like he sensed this was coming. He stares at her again, eyes tracking across her face, examining every bare inch of her, before settling carefully on the edge of the mattress, like he’s unsure where to look. That's very unlike him, and her stomach twists again. There’s still a few feet between them, and she’s glad for it.

“I suppose I should explain some things to you, Rey.”

She fiddles with the hem of her shirt, remembering once again that it technically belongs to him. No matter what she does, a part of her will always belong to him. Her body, her mind, her heart. At least one, although probably all three.

“We’re here because of what happened back at the house.” He pauses, gauging her reaction, and adds, “That wasn’t a good scene for either of us, and it was best we got out of the way so the men could do their jobs.”

So they could help Mommy, he doesn’t say. So they could bring her somewhere safe and make her better. Rey nods to show she understands. Obviously, that's what they did.

It was an accident. It was an accident. It was an accident. It was—

“Right.” Daddy drags a hand down his cheek, looking tired and stressed and vaguely upset. “Do you remember what I did for work when I was young? When I met—” He sighs, frustrated, and rolls his lips. “Before you were born.”

“…You, um, sold drugs?” Mommy said he was basically a drug dealer. A big one. Important.

“Yes,” he says softly, extending a hand. After a second, she slips her fingers between his and squeezes. “It’s true that I stopped dealing. For a while. I was very busy with my new job, with managing the house, with loving you.” He smiles then, and she can’t help mirroring it. “I never wanted to go back to that life, but…”

And now his smile fades.

“It didn’t matter what I wanted.” He squeezes her hand this time, much harder than she did. “You see, Rey, I was very good at what I did. So good that certain people took notice. This time last year, one of those people approached me and asked me to come back.”

She stares at him, watching the expressions shift on his face as he returns to that moment, that fateful meeting. One year ago, she started masturbating to the thought of Daddy licking the sweat off her naked body. One year ago, she would occasionally “forget” to bring a towel into the bathroom with her and wander into the hallway when she knew Daddy was near. One year ago, she would practice teasing and flirting with him when they were alone, and when he drew her down to the sofa and kissed her belly and her thighs and the hollow of her neck, she would gasp and whimper, "More, Daddy!"

Neither one of them has ever been innocent.

“So I did.” Daddy’s eyes are dark again, and his voice gets rougher. “The man I saw was named Snoke, and it was a very big deal for him to meet me in person. He set me up with some clients, and since then…”

Rey tilts her head, puzzling through this info. “Since then…you’ve been selling drugs? For a year?”

“You could say that. I’m more of a distributor now, but essentially, yes. I sell drugs.”

“Oh.” Rey looks down at their clasped hands. The teachers in school taught them that drug dealers are bad people, but she’s never once considered her daddy to be anything but a good man.

“I work directly under Snoke, who oversees the whole operation, and Poe…” His lips twitch. “Well, Dameron works under me.”

A memory sparks, reminding her of a conversation they had earlier in the week. Was it just yesterday? “But you said you’re a liaison for Poe now. Since you quit your other job.”

Daddy shakes his head, grimacing. “That was…an oversimplification. I am a liaison, to an extent. I work with Snoke on the big decisions, and I also work with Poe on the smaller ones, like where and how to distribute product.”

Product. Just because she’s never done drugs or even seen them in person—Daddy would literally kill her if he ever found out, and of course he would—doesn’t mean she’s completely ignorant. Her old friend Bazine Netal, who’s unsettlingly rich and uses the money her parents give her carelessly, often brags about her exploits with the older men who introduced her to LSD and cocaine. Product could be anything from weed or ecstasy to heroin or meth.

She shivers and drops her gaze to the mattress. Is that really what he does? Sell meth to slimy men and young girls?

“Rey.” Daddy’s voice is soft now, coaxing. He tugs on her hand. “Everything's fine, okay? I was involved with this kind of work for a decade before you were born, and I never had any problems. Back then I worked on the street, but now I’m basically in an office all day. I couldn’t be safer.”

“What about those men?” she blurts, shaking. Panic makes her voice shrill. “The ones outside, and the ones in that van—who are they?”

“They’re Snoke’s men,” he says calmly, holding her eyes. “Which means they’re my men too. A team of six operated inside that van on Snoke’s orders. He needed to make sure he could trust me. I knew they were there, and that’s exactly what Snoke wanted. It was to ensure I didn't step out of line.”

Daddy strokes the inside of her wrist, but Rey shakes her head. “Isn’t it dangerous? I mean, how—”

“No,” he says sharply. “I would never put you in harm’s way, Rey. You know that.”

Did she? “But I don’t understand why you’re—why you’re doing this!” she cries, and now fresh tears spill down her cheeks. Furious with herself, with him for getting involved in something so…stupidly illegal, Rey swipes at her eyes.

“I’m very good at what I do,” he repeats quietly, “and I—baby, I like it.”

She tries to yank her hand out of his too-tight grip, but Daddy simply squeezes harder, his jaw clenching, obviously irritated she’s pulling away again. He shifts on the mattress, like he wants to come closer but isn’t sure how that would be received. Not well, she knows that for sure.

“Rey—”

“Did Mommy know?”

His eyebrows furrow, and his face twists, but the expression is there and gone so quickly she doesn’t have time to examine it. “No. Mommy assumed I stopped for good when you were born. Your mother…” He exhales and pinches the bridge of his nose. “She had no idea.”

Great. So her father’s a big-time drug dealer. Or, like, a distributor. Whatever.

She wipes her cheeks dry and mutters, “That’s illegal, you know.”

Daddy laughs, which makes her insides warm, despite her annoyance. “Well, yes, that’s true.” He slips his fingers free and clinches them around the base of her ankle instead. “Do you think I’m a bad man, Rey?”

She bites her lip and shakes her head. “No.”

“Are you sure?” He lowers his voice. “I’ve done some very bad things, and I will do plenty more. Does that bother you?”

“No, Daddy.” She clutches Kombucha to her neck and whispers, “I don’t think you’re bad. I’ve never thought that.” And then, firmly, “I’m not afraid of you.”

He hums thoughtfully and slides his hand from her ankle all the way up her leg to her thigh. “Did you ever think maybe you should be?”

“What do you mean?” Her voice shakes, even though she tries hard to hide it. She never imagined he could be hiding such a dark side, and now that she knows, it’s…difficult to accept. It’ll take some time for her to adjust, to see him in this new, frankly startling light.

“I don’t want to frighten you, baby, but you need to understand what kind of person you’re dealing with here.” Daddy rises from the bed and gently extracts Kombucha from her fists. She whimpers but lets her stuffie go. He clasps her small wrists between his fingers and tugs until she rolls to her knees. “I would kill for you, Rey. Without a second thought. I would snap a man’s neck if he looked at you the wrong way.” His lips twitch into a soft sneer. “When you told me about that pervert from the CVS, I nearly went back there myself to look for him. But I forced myself to think of your reaction, if you ever learned of what I did, or imagined doing, to that man, and I…I didn’t go.”

She swallows and stares up at him, wide-eyed.

“Since the day you were born, you have been my sole reason for living. I would not let you go for anything.” It somehow sounds like both a promise and a threat, and Rey believes him.

In fact, on the rare occasions she’s envisioned her future, it’s always involved her and Daddy and a comfortable little house in a small but pretty neighborhood far away from their hometown. They would adopt a cat and at least two dogs, and at the end of every day they would snuggle on the sofa in front of their big TV, laughing and teasing and kissing each other breathless. She’s never once thought of her future job or new friends or possible hobbies. As a kid, she wanted nothing more than to be Daddy’s best and only girl.

Not much has changed.

Choosing him despite all she now knows is a risk, but Rey smiles widely, banishing all the ugly thoughts, and throws herself at him anyway. Arms around his neck, legs hooked over his hips, their chests pressed together like they’ve done a thousand times before. She kisses the corner of his mouth before tucking her head in the crook of his neck—her safe spot.

His hands whisper across her bare skin, shifting aside his T-shirt to get at her bottom. He wants her naked, of course—when doesn’t he—but Rey isn’t ready for that yet.

“When can we go home?” she whispers into his shoulder, unwilling to let that go.

Daddy starts to rock them side to side, just as he did when she was a teeny tiny infant and Mommy needed a break. “Baby, I told you. This is our home now. We aren’t going back there.”

Her voice is very small. “Not ever?”

“No,” he murmurs firmly, pressing his mouth to the curve of her throat. “I’m sorry, baby, but that house is no good for us.”

Right. Rey closes her eyes and sniffles, unable to stifle the grief. So long, creaky stairs. So long, ugly shag carpet and custom-made bathroom vanities and the window seat on the south side of the living room. It's just so unfair. They don’t need a new house, especially not one this big, and even if Daddy has his “men” transport all her old belongings to the master bedroom here, she’s not entirely sure she'll accept them. Their old place was perfectly fine. It makes no sense to move somewhere new just because of a small accident.

And it was an accident.

“You know, Snoke gifted me this house,” Daddy announces suddenly, cradling her to his chest as he sways them back and forth. “He preferred that I operate far outside the city limits. Somewhere quieter.” He pauses, and then says softly, “You don’t like it.”

“N-no,” she stammers lamely, caught off guard, “no, Daddy, it’s just…different.”

“Different doesn’t have to mean bad.”

“I know.”

“Rey.” He gently prods her cheek until she lifts her head and meets his eyes. “You’ll grow to love it here. I promise. You can still go to school and hang out with all your friends. I’ll still help you with homework and studying and whatever else you may need. All we’ve done is change locations.” His gaze flickers down to her belly. “Soon we’ll make a family of our own, and you’ll forget all about the old house.”

But maybe she doesn’t want to forget. Maybe she loved the old armchair in the living room and the sunny kitchen and the creaky stairs and the sink with a missing knob. Maybe she loved the weedy backyard and the too-close neighbors and the dusty attic with all their disorganized holiday decorations. Maybe she loved that life.

Rey never asked for a new one.

Daddy swings her around, and she giggles at first, thinking it’s a game, but then he pushes her up against the wall, and she realizes what’s on his mind. What’s always on his mind, frankly.

She leans her head back against the wall and offers him a tentative smile. “I trust you, Daddy. I still think it’s too big here, and all those empty rooms are kind of creepy, but…I’ll try to love it?”

She winces because that obviously sounds very unpromising, even to her, but Daddy’s eyes light up like she’s just told him they’ve won the lottery. He kisses her hard on the mouth and hums appreciatively when she sweeps her tongue along his bottom lip. Kisses make things better. Kisses remind her that, regardless of what else might be happening, she is loved.

“That’s all I ask, Rey. Just try. For me.” Daddy braces her against the wall and lifts her shirt over her head. She doesn’t struggle, although the smile gradually fades from her lips. “I promise I will give you the best life.”

Willing to play along, Rey arches an eyebrow. “And how do you know it’ll be the best?”

“Because it’s you and me.” He presses his forehead to hers and breathes her in. “What else do I need?”

She reminds herself that he’s always been her daddy, both lowercase and capitalized, and that he's protected her from leering men and dissatisfied teachers ten times over. She reminds herself that he might be a dangerous man doing dangerous things for dangerous people, but he’s never been dangerous to her. She reminds herself that he chose her above everyone—above all other women, above family and friends, above Mommy.

That’s why Rey doesn’t struggle when Daddy slips his giant hands beneath her thighs and pushes her legs up and back until they’re draped over his forearms. It’s a pretty uncomfortable position, but she doesn’t complain because this is more for him than her now, anyway. Flexibility has become a must these past few weeks. He’ll contort her in whatever position suits him, and she rarely has any other choice but to adapt.

She understands his need to consume, to overpower, to dominate, even if she sometimes prefers to just be left alone, by herself, with no one touching her in sensitive places or ordering her to move her ass here and her mouth there. Like now, for instance: she doesn’t actually want to have sex again—it’ll be the third time today, not counting when he licked her pussy in the kitchen, and it’s not even noon!—but Daddy’s obviously in the mood, and she’s simply not able to deprive him of the opportunity to make them both feel good.

It’s important to him that she feels sexually satisfied. Daddy's admitted before, in a moment of rare vulnerability, that their age difference worries him. He wants to keep up with her, wants to fuck like he did as a younger man, and although his stamina is incredibly impressive, and although she's assured him time and again that he's strong and fast and just the right amount of rough, Daddy still doubts.

So for all he’s done, for all the expensive gifts and surprise lunch dates and bribed grades and countless, body-shaking orgasms—Rey figures she owes him a quick wall fuck, at the very least.

“Hold still, dammit.” Daddy lets his slacks fall to his knees, and with a muffled groan he sinks his engorged cock inside her pussy.

She’s all swollen and tender and red from his earlier abuse—in the town car, in bed this morning, against the wall of her room last night, and probably while she was asleep too—but she keeps her pained whimpers locked behind her teeth. This needs to be good for him—she has to make this good for him. Maybe she can’t have her old life back, her old house or her princess bedroom, but she still has him—and isn’t that what she’s always wanted? The two of them together, free and happy and in love.

That’s enough. It has to be.

Daddy bends his knees and plunges between her spread legs, his cock bouncing her off the wall. She breathes through her nose, taking the bone-rattling hits in silence, and when he smothers her with a rough kiss, she licks the inside of his mouth like she would a fresh scoop of ice cream. His taste, his smell, his sticky seed—she wants to be full of it all. Forget the here and now and disappear into him.

“This is it,” he pants, holding her fast against the wall. His hips bump hers, and their sexes clap together in the echoing silence—a wet, suctioning smack that sets her nerves on fire. “This is where—we’ll make all our babies, Rey. Here in—ugh, fuck—this house.”

“Oh,” she gasps, squeezing her eyes shut when the head of his cock pushes into her cervix. Her vision explodes with white stars, and her hands tighten in his hair. Her tits jiggle with the force of his thrusts, and a low whine builds in her throat.

This time, he doesn’t drag it out. He doesn’t wait for her to cum. Instead, he pounds her into the wall until, with a gruff exclamation, his cock releases a stream of hot seed inside her gaping pussy. He sways forward and back, dragging her along in the wake of his climax, panting heavily in her ear. She arches her spine off the wall as he fills her up, her pussy thirstily drinking him in. Pumping a few times for good measure, he slumps and lets his cock slip free.

“Welcome home,” Daddy whispers and sets her down on her feet.

I didn’t cum, she thinks, blinking. He didn’t wait for me to cum. This, out of everything that's happened, is what sends her over the edge, and she shoves aside his arms to escape to the nearby balcony. It doesn’t matter that she’s buck naked, that her black and blue bruises and crescent-shaped bite marks are on full display for the world to see. She’s so high above them all that it’s impossible for anyone to make out more than a blurred shape.

I let him fuck me against the wall, I let him touch and lick and bite and kiss me wherever and whenever he wants, and he can’t even spend the few extra minutes required to make me orgasm.

Seething, Rey clutches the balcony railing and ignores the heavy tread of footsteps approaching from behind. Her head hasn’t stopped throbbing, not for a moment, and her hands are shaking again, and she’s covered in a fine layer of gritty sweat, but that’s okay. It’s all okay. She swallows down her ire and forces herself to think positive. This house is big, but it’s safe too, and out in the middle of nowhere. There’s no reason to be worried, she assures herself, no reason to be stressed out or upset.

Welcome home.

The footsteps come to a halt. There’s a brief pause, and then Daddy’s arms slide around her waist, overlapping her tummy, and he kisses the side of her neck with a tenderness that makes her knees wobble. His voice is low, and warm, and deep enough to surround her in a tight bubble where it’s easy to believe only the two of them exist, out here where no one but him could hear her scream.

“Let me hold you.”

So she does, in spite of her confusion and anger and a vague sense of hurt. Because Daddy always knows best, and she’s safest with him. That’s what he’s always said, and time and again he’s proven it to be true. There’s no reason to doubt him.

A dangerous man, she remembers uneasily, but not to me.

Of course, since Daddy first locked her bedroom door and slipped naked beneath the soft covers of her twin bed, her only wish has been for a future where the two of them can love in peace. Mommy became an interloper, an unwelcome addition to their exclusive party of two. But now this future has come true, now they’re finally together…and Rey isn’t quite sure what to do.

It’s only been a few hours since they started on this journey, and so far this life isn’t how she imagined it would be. Not at all. That future didn’t include a scary mansion or a whole contingent of armed guards, and it especially didn’t include a daddy who distributes cocaine to teenage girls.

From one moment to the next, Rey wavers between acceptance of this new life and a stubborn attachment to her old one. It's true that she has Daddy, she has a nice house, she has school and friends and pretty clothes, and yet... There’s something missing in this new life, something important, and though Rey fights against it, she has a pretty clear idea what that might be.

Ironically, it’s the one thing she assumed was out of place.

Daddy rests his chin on top of her head and pats her tummy. “Let’s go back inside, baby. We should test out the mattress a few times before the movers arrive.”

And Rey smiles and nods and lets him lead her over to the bare mattress in the center of their bare room, where she’ll lie flat on her back and spread her legs for him. Just like she’s done a dozen times before, and just like she’ll do again and again and a thousand times more. This, after all, is what she’s always wanted. If she tells herself that often enough, maybe it'll finally start to feel true.

Besides, it's only natural that this new life takes some getting used to. All things considered, moving is a huge adjustment. The more Rey thinks about it, the more she realizes that this is an opportunity. A new house means a new beginning.

And sure, it might just be the two of them right now, but that won’t be a permanent arrangement. That’s a detail she keeps overlooking, which is silly! She and Daddy can love on each other day and night, free from secrets and judgement, but eventually they’ll have to make room for a third.

Accidents happen, but they certainly don’t last forever.

Mommy will be home soon.