Page 27 of Daddy of the Mountain

It was the little things that really made me happy. The lack of terrifying nightmares, and the simple pleasure of standing without any pain.

No crutch, no leaning. No nothing. Just me, standing up, hands on hips, ready to take on the world.

"Look at you," Silas said from behind me, his voice low and gravelly. He crossed his thick arms over his chest, watching me like he had all the time in the world. His brown eyes were steady, just shy of proud.

I looked back over my shoulder, the corner of my mouth tugging up. "Pretty good, huh?”

“Pretty good, Little One,” he said. “You’ve been such a good girl, and your patience is paying off.”

His approval hit harder than it should’ve, heat rising to my face.

"Now, let me look at your panties."

I felt a blush spread across my cheeks. "Yes, Daddy."

I hadn't brought anything particularly sexy with me on the trip, but somehow, having Silas pick out the single red lacy pair I'd brought with me made me squirm with delight.

He watched me carefully as I pulled off my pajama bottoms. I felt his eyes on my smooth legs.

"Good girl. Get those new panties on."

"Yes, Daddy," I said again. I kept my eyes on his as I wriggled out my panties and pulled on a fresh pair. I could see the lust in his eyes, and feel it between my legs. He watched me as I changed. I pulled my pajama top off, and saw him eye my breasts with hunger. It felt good—like I had some power over him, over this primal creature I was sharing this space with.

"You're about the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," he said, slowly.

"Thank you, Daddy."

"You're welcome. Now, let's hit the road."

He’d promised me that if I was feeling up to it, we could go for a tiny walk this morning. I was unreasonably excited.

After I was dressed, and the fire between my legs was slightly cooler, we headed out. When I opened the door, the cold rushed in first, biting the tips of my ears and nose. The world outside looked calm, blanketed in untouched snow. I stepped onto the porch, testing my weight on the ankle. Solid.

Silas followed close behind, his boots heavy on the wooden planks. He reached for my hand without asking, his fingers curling strong and sure around mine.

"Careful," he said quietly, his grip firm but not overbearing.

"Yes, Daddy," I shot back, squeezing his hand once for good measure.

We stood there together for a moment, the mountain stretching wide and quiet before us. The air was sharp enough to sting my lungs, but it felt clean, bracing. I breathed deep, letting it fill me up. A week ago, I’d been trapped—by pain, by fear, bythe weight of everything I couldn’t change. Now, the weight felt lighter, like I could carry it without breaking.

"Feels different, doesn’t it?" Silas asked, his voice cutting through the silence.

"Yeah," I said, my gaze sweeping over the endless white. "It does."

"That’s what happens when you stop fighting so hard," he said, his thumb brushing over the back of my hand.

"Maybe," I admitted, glancing sideways at him. "Or maybe it’s just the company."

His lips twitched, almost a smile. Almost.

"Smartass," he muttered, but his hand stayed in mine.

My ankle held steady, no sharp twinge or pull anymore, just a dull echo of what used to be. Silas stood beside me, close enough that I could feel his presence even without looking at him. His hand rested on the curve of my lower back—protective, grounding.

"Thanks for everything, Daddy." The word slipped out soft, almost shy. It was easier now, natural even, but it still carried weight when I said it out loud.

"Good girl," he murmured, eyes fixed on mine like he could see right through me. His voice had that low, gravelly warmth that always made something inside me flutter. He squeezed my hand once and let go, stepping back just enough to give me space.

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