Page 119 of Wanting What's Wrong

Knowing I’m the one responsible for his mother's injuries--and the loss of his most prized and priceless collection--is something I don’t know how to live with and have no idea how to fix. Some things just don’t have a solution, so I’ll live every day holding my breath that my secret stays that way.

We spend the afternoon as though Cade and I are not anything other than father and daughter as we’ve been over the years. Dorthia teaches me to make his favorite fried chicken and waffles. Mash potatoes and gravy from scratch and peach pie with vanilla ice cream.

I insisted on clearing and getting the dishes sorted while Cade went to check on some work he said he had done on the big red barn in the back. The sun is just fading into the pines across the backfield when Cade returns, and we head into the living room where Dorthia has settled into her comfy recliner, head back, snoring with a trashy romance novel open on her lap.

“Come on. Let’s go feed the chickens,” Cade says, and Iwant to tell him I’d follow him anywhere. Crawl to him through broken glass.

Well, metaphorically, at least. As we step off the back porch, the thought that some of what we do—the names he calls me, the way I want him to put me in my place, how I beg him for relief and the honor of pleasing him—is out of guilt.

Do I feel so broken and unworthy because of my secrets that the only way I can feel pleasure is through our shameful coercion dynamic?

Maybe, but there’s one thing that’s clear. It ishot.

Filthy, yes, but God help me, when he calls me his slutty little girl, his baby, little one…my body reacts. If we aren’t hurting anyone else, what should it matter?

“It’s so beautiful here. I wish I grew up like this.”

Cade nods, pulling me against him as we walk, kissing the top of my head, which, I must say, also turns me on beyond belief. Those little simple, sweet things that are fatherly in their own way are a button directly attached to my body's pleasure and attachment centers.

“It was great. I only wish you could have known my dad. He was something else. Quiet, but when he spoke, you listened, he worked so hard to give us a good life and he loved my mom.” He chuckles as a gust of wind comes up from across the cornfield. “Thinking back, he used to swat her rear end and tug on her hair before every kiss. And she called him Papa. Maybe it’s genetic.”

There’s a flickering glow from the open doors on the enormous gabled barn, and the scent of lilacs and roses sweeps around in the breeze. Inside are vases of flowers, but the candles are all electric.

“No flames in a barn. No matter how romantic. Fire isn’t a friend.”

Shame fills my chest as I push away the memories and ask, “How did you do this? We’ve been together since we got here.”

“I have people. People I pay to sneak into barns while I’meating dinner with my two favorite women in the world and set me up to look like a hero.”

Tell him the truth.

He’s doing everything for you. You owe him the truth.

I open my mouth, the words trapped in the tightness of my throat as Cade crushes his lips on mine, sweeping me under my rear and carrying me over to a stack of hay bales covered in white lace blankets.

He tastes like fried chicken and mint gum. His kisses are always demanding, warm, wet and the best kind of wicked. It’s like all the wrongs turn right when his tongue pushes into my mouth, and I think of all the nights I dreamed of him coming to my bedroom, leaning down, and kissing me just like he is right now.

“What are we going to do about your mom? About the world?” I deflect my guilt, ready to rip me open with questions that may not be answered in the way I hope.

“Well, I’ll handle my mother. Oh, and I’ll handle the world. What’s your job?” He brushes my hair behind my ear, sniffing the top of my head, then tracing the inside of my thigh under my skirt with his other hand, making me wince and choke on my answer. Our dynamic has changed me in countless ways. One of those is my clothing. Cade has me wearing things other than my usual self-imposed uniform and it’s been fine. More than fine, it’s been great.

It was as though when the choice was taken away from me, I released my need to control the obsession. Odd but what a dang relief.

“My job is to make you happy.” I smile watching his pupils dilate.

“That’s right, very good. You knew that was your job long before I told you,” he says, a barn owl’s hoots softly off in the corner somewhere. Cade’s brows draw together while he pushes his massive body forward, spreading my legs.

I nod, vowing not to add more lies to the ones of omission I already carry. His pupils fix on me as his fingers meet my bare lower lips, making me hiss on an inhale. “Wet, wet, wet. As usual, dirty little sweet girl for Daddy. No panties too. Just like I told you. I love when you do as you’re told, baby. Makes me hard.”

He presses his mouth against mine, and I whine into the warm night air, my pulse pounding against my temples.

“You’re always hard,” I chitter back on a giggle as he licks up my neck, tickling me.

“I have been for longer than I should tell you. But that’s my secret to keep. Sometimes, little girls don’t need to know everything, but Daddies need to know everything about their little girls. Number one rule, Lennie, no secrets from me. If you aren’t honest, I can’t take care of you. And my number one job is to take care of you in every way.” He taps his fingers to my forehead, “Mind,” then a tap on my belly, “Body,” now over my heart, “Spirit. All of you, Lennie, belongs to me, and that includes your thoughts, dreams, and, yes, your secrets. So, let’s start with one secret you’ve been keeping. Tell me, and I’ll show you whatever you have, it’s safe with me. You’re safe with me. Love isn’t wrong, baby. And I love you. Forever. In ways you’re just beginning to understand.”

Fire races through my veins, the world spins, and dizziness takes me for a moment.Does he know? Is he baiting me?

“I—” My thoughts spin, it’s my chance, either absolution or annihilation lie on the other side of the truth.

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