Page 50 of Small Town Daddy

As I entered her, it felt like coming home. She was tight, warm, surrounding me in a way that felt right. We moved together slowly at first, savoring the moment, learning the rhythm of one another.

"Marcus," she gasped, her hands clutching at my back, pulling me closer. The sound of our bodies moving together filled the room, a symphony of shared desire.

The pace quickened, urgency building between us. My senses were heightened—all I could feel, hear, see was Lucy. Her body, her voice, the way she responded to me. It was everything.

"Marcus, I'm going to come," she warned, her voice catching, filled with that edge of ecstasy.

"Wait," I murmured, my voice rough with need. "Wait for me."

I pushed us both to the edge, holding her there, feeling the tension coiled between us. It was exquisite, this balance between control and release.

"Now," I said, and we fell together, a cascade of sensation and emotion that left me breathless, blown away by how wonderful it felt. It was more than physical—it was a promise, sealed in the most intimate way possible.

Lying there, with Lucy nestled against me, every breath felt like a promise. Her head rested on my chest, and I could feel her fingers drawing lazy patterns on my skin, tracing the outlines of an unspoken future. The room was quiet, save for the gentle rhythm of our breathing.

"I think I want to stay," she murmured, and those words washed over me like a balm.

I turned slightly, careful not to disturb her comfort. "I'd like that," I replied, unable to keep the smile from my voice. Relief mingled with joy, creating a hum of contentment beneath my skin.

We began talking about the future, voices low and intimate. She shared ideas for the house—plans to transform it into something uniquely hers yet respectful of its history. We touched on possibilities for Wilkins' Hardware, expanding its reach while keeping its heart. Our dreams intertwined seamlessly, each supporting the other.

"With you, everything feels possible," I said, realizing the truth in those words.

"Together," she agreed softly. There was strength in that word, a commitment to face whatever lay ahead.

The moment stretched, timeless and perfect. But then, a buzz shattered the peace—a reminder that life rarely paused for long.

Lucy reached for my phone on the nightstand, intending to hand it to me. Her eyes flicked to the screen, and I saw her expression shift, curiosity giving way to something else. A shadow passed over her features as she read the message.

"Marcus," she said, her voice hesitant. She handed me the phone, the screen still lit with the text from my ex-wife:

"Marcus, I was wrong. I am a Little."

A knot formed in my stomach. The past, which I'd thought neatly packed away, had just spilled open again.

Chapter 14

Lucy

Iwoke up alone,the sheets cold where Marcus should have been. My hand reached out instinctively, finding only emptiness. The room was quiet, too quiet, except for my heartbeat pounding in my ears. I sat up, blinking away sleep, and there it was—a note on the pillow. I unfolded it with shaky hands.

"Had to leave early to check on something. Emily called—nothing to worry about. I'll explain later. Take care of yourself. – Marcus."

Emily. His ex-wife. The name was like a stone dropping into my stomach. I had seen her message last night. She was a Little. At the time, Marcus had said not to worry. So why had he gone to her? What changed overnight?

I swung my legs over the side of the bed, the floor cool beneath my feet. My mind raced as I got dressed, pulling on jeans and a T-shirt without really seeing them. Wasn't this always thefear? That I'd be left behind, discarded when someone else came calling? It felt too familiar, too real.

The intimacy we'd shared, those whispered promises late at night—they spun around in my head like a broken record. Did they mean as much to him as they did to me? Or were they just words, easily forgotten? I swallowed hard, trying to push down the rising tide of doubt.

"Get a grip, Lucy," I muttered to myself, shoving my arms through the sleeves of an old flannel shirt. "Don't jump to conclusions."

But the questions kept coming.What if he's still in love with Emily? What if I've been fooling myself, thinking anything could be different this time?

I couldn't shake the feeling of impending heartbreak, the icy fingers of fear wrapping around my heart. My instincts screamed at me to retreat, to build up those walls I'd spent years perfecting. Yet, deep down, a small voice whispered for patience, for trust. But right now, that voice was drowned out by uncertainty.

I thought back to the time we’d spent together, when he’d blindfolded me, touched me in the dark. I could trust my Daddy. I knew that he’d keep me safe, that he wouldn’t let me down. There had to be a good explanation. Maybe Emily was in some kind of trouble. Marcus had a big heart. Just because he was going to visit someone, it didn’t mean that he loved them and not me.

"Focus on what you can control," I told myself, grabbing my bag and keys. I had stuff to do—the renovations to finish. Maybe keeping busy would help drown out the noise in my head. But as I grabbed the paint for the living room trim, I couldn’t get a question out of my head: What if I'm not enough?

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