Rebound Vows: Her Ex-Fiancé's Father Takes Her in the Barn

I drove past the weathered fence posts of the old ranch with my hands shaking on the wheel, the white silk of my ruined wedding dress still crumpled in the passenger seat like a discarded promise. I was twenty-two, and Theo had left me standing at the altar three days ago after I found the texts—graphic, filthy proof he’d been fucking someone else the entire time we planned our forever. I needed closure. I needed to look someone in this family in the eye and demand to know how the hell it had all collapsed. The gravel road kicked dust against my tires as I pulled up near the big red barn, heart hammering, dress and jeans and boots already feeling like the wrong armor for whatever came next.

Reid stepped out of the barn shadow before I even killed the engine. Forty-eight, broad-shouldered, the kind of rugged widower rancher whose flannel was rolled to thick forearms dusted with dark hair and a few silver strands. He’d always been polite at family dinners, quiet, watching more than he spoke. I used to catch those looks sometimes—quick, heavy, gone the second Theo walked in—but I told myself I imagined them. Now there was no Theo. Just me and the man who had raised him.

“Hana.” His voice was low gravel. He wiped grease from his hands on a rag, jeans sitting low on lean hips, work boots planted firm. “Jesus. What are you doing out here?”

I climbed out, boots crunching. The late afternoon sun caught the gray at his temples and the deep lines around eyes that had seen too many hard seasons. “Looking for answers. Or maybe just somewhere to scream. He isn’t here, is he?”

Reid shook his head once. “Took off two days ago. Said he needed space. Left me to manage the place alone again.” His gaze dropped—not rude, just slow—and lingered on the tear tracks I hadn’t fully scrubbed off, then lower, to the way my thin sweater clung after the long drive. I felt it like heat. “You shouldn’t have come dressed like that. People talk.”

“I’m not people anymore. I’m the girl he left in a church.” My throat tightened. “I thought maybe you’d tell me it was a mistake. That he’d come crawling back.”

He stepped closer. The barn smelled of hay and leather and honest sweat. “I won’t lie to you. Theo’s always been selfish. I buried a lot of things for that boy’s sake.” His eyes locked on mine, darker now. “Including how I looked at you when you first started coming around. You were his. Off-limits. I kept it locked down so tight I thought it might kill me some nights.”

The confession landed between us like a live wire. I should have stepped back. Instead my pulse kicked hard between my legs. “You… wanted me?”

Reid’s jaw flexed. He reached past me for the barn door, brushing my arm, skin rough and warm. “Wanted is a polite word. I wanted to bend you over every fence post on this property while you still wore his ring. I hated myself for it. You were twenty, then twenty-one, then engaged, and I was the old man watching his son’s future wife walk around in summer dresses that made my cock hard under the table.” He let out a rough breath. “Now you’re free. And you’re standing here looking at me like you might not run.”

My mouth went dry. “I’m heartbroken. I’m angry. I came for closure.”

“And I’m offering something else.” He didn’t touch me yet, just let the space crackle. “Stay the night. Guest room’s clean. Or don’t. But don’t pretend you didn’t feel that look I just gave you. You’re not his fiancée anymore, Hana. You’re a grown woman who can decide what she needs.”

I followed him into the barn because my legs moved on their own. Stalls empty of horses for the season, golden light striping through high windows, the big workbench cluttered with tools. Reid leaned against it, arms crossed, watching me circle like I might spook. My nipples had tightened under the sweater; I crossed my arms too late to hide it.

“I used to imagine it,” I heard myself say, confessional and raw. “Late at night when Theo was already asleep. Your hands. How much bigger they are. How you’d hold me down different. I hated myself too.”

Reid’s laugh was dark, almost pained. “Christ. Say another word like that and I won’t keep being the good father who turns you around and sends you home.” He pushed off the bench, closed the distance until I felt the heat rolling off his chest. One callused hand lifted, hovered near my cheek, then settled lightly—thumb brushing the corner of my mouth. “You sure you want to open this door? Because once I start, I’m not gentle. I’ve waited too damn long.”

I leaned into the touch. “I don’t want gentle. I want to forget his name for five minutes.”

His other hand found my hip, squeezed hard enough to bruise. “Longer than five. And not minutes.” He backed me until my ass hit the edge of the workbench. Hay dust floated in the shafts of light. Reid’s mouth hovered an inch from mine, breath mint and coffee. “Tell me to stop and I will. Right now. After this second, I start taking what I’ve been starving for.”

“Don’t stop.” The words came out shaky, hungry. “Please.”

He kissed me then—deep, claiming, tongue sliding past my lips like he’d been rehearsing it for years. I moaned into it, fists bunching in his flannel, and he growled, low and filthy, pressing the thick ridge of his cock against my belly through denim. One hand slid under my sweater, rough palm spanning my bare waist, then higher, cupping my breast over the thin bra, thumb dragging across a stiff nipple until I arched.

“Fuck, the sounds you make,” he muttered against my mouth. “Knew you’d be loud. Knew you’d soak my fingers the second I got them inside those pretty little panties.” His hand dropped, popped the button of my jeans, zipper down, then those thick fingers shoved beneath the lace. He found me already slick, parted my folds, and rubbed slow circles over my clit while I gasped and clung.

“Reid—oh god—”

“That’s it. Say my name while I feel how wet you got for your ex’s daddy.” He pushed two fingers into me without warning, stretching, curling, working me open right there against the bench. My head fell back; he mouthed my throat, teeth scraping. “Theo never deserved this cunt. Never knew what to do with it. I do.”

I was already clenching, rocking onto his hand, the taboo of it flooding me hotter than any heartbreak. He finger-fucked me steady and deep, palm grinding my clit, free hand yanking the sweater up so he could suck a nipple through the bra until the fabric darkened. The barn felt smaller, air thicker. Every thrust of his fingers made wet sounds that should have shamed me and only made me wetter.

He pulled his hand free suddenly, shiny with me, and held it up. “Lick.”

I did—tongued my own taste off his knuckles while he watched with heavy-lidded eyes, free hand already undoing his belt. The thick length of him sprang free, heavy and veined, flushed dark, a bead of precum at the tip. My mouth watered. He didn’t ask; he just guided my hand around the shaft so I could feel the heat and the pulse.

“I’m going to bend you over this bench,” he said, voice pure gravel. “I’m going to fuck you rough enough you forget every vow you almost made. And you’re going to beg for more while I do it. Still with me?”

“Yes.” My voice cracked. “God, yes.”

Reid spun me, pressed my chest to the cool wood, yanked jeans and panties down to my thighs. Cool air kissed my bare ass a second before his palm cracked across one cheek—sharp, claiming. I cried out, more pleasure than sting. He rubbed the heat in, then lined that thick cock against my dripping entrance, notching, holding, letting me feel every inch of promise.

“Last chance to walk away clean,” he growled, one hand fisting my hair, the other gripping my hip hard enough to mark.

I pushed back. “Don’t you dare stop now.”

He thrust in to the hilt in one brutal stroke, splitting me open on the cock I’d only ever imagined, and the broken moan that tore out of me echoed off the rafters. Reid stayed buried, breathing hard against my neck, letting me adjust to the stretch while his free hand snaked around to rub my clit again.

“That’s my girl,” he muttered. “Taking every fucking inch like you were built for it. Hold on. I’m just getting started.”

He pulled back slow, then slammed home again, setting a rhythm that rattled the tools on the bench and forced sharp, helpless sounds from my throat with every deep stroke. The taboo burned hotter than the friction—ex-fiancé’s father, twenty-six years older, fucking me open in the family barn like he’d owned the right all along. My fingers scrabbled for purchase on the wood. He reached under, pinched my clit, and I clenched hard around him.

“Feel that?” he rasped. “That’s you choosing this. Choosing me. Keep squeezing that cock and I’ll fill you so deep you’ll still be dripping me tomorrow.”

I was already close, the pressure coiling vicious and bright. Reid’s pace turned punishing, hips snapping, balls slapping my clit on every thrust, dirty praise mixed with the slap of skin. Outside, a distant truck rumbled somewhere on the property road. The sound only made him fuck harder, like he wanted the whole damn county to know what he was doing to me.

“Come on my cock,” he ordered against my ear. “Right fucking now. Let me feel it.”

The orgasm ripped through me so hard my knees buckled. I came with a broken cry of his name, walls fluttering and milking him, vision whiting out. Reid cursed, slammed deep one last time, and held—but he didn’t come. He stayed buried, throbbing, breathing like a man barely leashed.

When he finally eased out, I felt empty and marked and still aching for more. He turned me gently, cupped my face, kissed me slower this time—possessive, unfinished.

“Guest room’s upstairs,” he said, voice rough. “Or you stay right here while I lock the barn. Either way, I’m not done with you tonight. Not even close.”

I pulled my clothes back into place with shaking hands, thighs slick, heart still racing. Reid watched every movement like a man already planning the next round. The sun was dropping lower. Somewhere out on the property the wind picked up, rattling the old tin roof.

I wasn’t leaving. Not yet. The rebound had teeth, and I was already bleeding for more of them.

I stayed. The wind rattled the tin harder as Reid locked the big sliding doors against the first fat drops of rain, and somehow the barn felt safer than any guest room could. He handed me a pair of worn work gloves without asking, nodded toward the stack of cedar rails and posts leaning against the far wall, and said the storm would only get meaner if we didn’t finish bracing the loose section before dark. I tugged the gloves on over still-trembling fingers, jeans still damp between my thighs from him, and followed him deeper into the golden-dust gloom.

Lightning flickered through the high windows while we worked side by side. Reid drove new nails with clean, powerful strokes; I held the rails steady, the thick muscle of his forearm flexing each time the hammer fell. Rain hammered the roof in sheets. The air grew thick with wet hay and the clean scent of his sweat under the flannel. Every time our shoulders brushed I felt the ghost of his cock still stretching me open earlier, and my cunt gave another slow, traitorous clench.

I couldn’t keep the words in any longer. They spilled out confessional and raw while I stared at the half-mended fence instead of his face.

“Theo never lasted. Never even tried to learn what I needed. He’d push in, rut for three minutes, roll over, and leave me aching every single night. I used to finish myself in the shower after he fell asleep, biting my wrist so he wouldn’t hear. I hated him for it. Hated myself more for still saying yes when he asked me to marry him.”

Reid’s hammer paused mid-swing. He set it down carefully on the workbench, rain roaring louder outside, and turned fully toward me. Those dark eyes were softer now, protective, the way a man looks at something he wants to shield and ruin in the same breath.

“Come here,” he said, low. I stepped into the space between his boots. He thumbed a streak of dust from my cheek, then let his hand rest heavy on the side of my neck. “You deserved better than my son’s half-assed effort. Always did.”

The comfort should have stopped there. Instead his thumb stroked once over my pulse and my nipples tightened hard enough to ache against my sweater. I heard myself keep talking, voice dropping into the filthy honesty the storm seemed to demand.

“I used to watch you at those Sunday dinners. The way you filled out a chair, the quiet strength in your hands when you passed the potatoes. Theo was still a boy next to you. I noticed. God, I noticed every time you leaned past me and I caught the heat coming off your chest. I told myself it was just curiosity. It wasn’t. You were the real man in that house the whole time, and I wanted you even while I wore his ring.”

Reid’s breath left him in a rough rush. His free hand settled on my waist, fingers spreading wide enough to span half my belly. “Say that again.”

I pressed closer instead of answering with words—hips first, then the soft push of my breasts against the hard plane of his chest. The gloves fell forgotten to the dirt floor. I rose onto my toes so my mouth could brush the shell of his ear, and the confession came out like a dare and a prayer mixed together.

“I want the father. Not the son. I want you to take what’s left of me and use it until I can’t remember his name.”

Something snapped clean in the charged air between us. Reid growled, spun me so my back hit the newly braced fence rail, and claimed my mouth in a kiss that tasted of rain and hunger and absolute ownership. His tongue fucked past my lips the same way his cock had earlier—deep, relentless. One hand shoved under my sweater and dragged the cup of my bra down so he could roll a stiff nipple between rough fingers. I moaned into him and rubbed the seam of my jeans shamelessly against the thick ridge already straining his fly.

“Fucking look at you,” he rasped against my mouth, voice pure gravel. “Pressing that sweet body on me like you own the right. You sure this is what you want, Hana? Because once I get inside you again I’m going to ruin you for anyone younger. I’ll fuck you so deep and so long you’ll still feel me when you walk tomorrow.”

“I’m sure.” I yanked his belt open myself, shoved denim and briefs down just far enough to wrap both hands around the heavy, veined length of him. He was scorching, already leaking, and my mouth watered all over again. “I want it rough. I want you to bend me over that rail and make me take every inch like the greedy little rebound slut I am for my ex’s daddy.”

Reid’s laugh was dark and almost pained. He spun me again, bent me forward over the solid cedar rail we’d just finished setting, and yanked my jeans and soaked panties down to mid-thigh in one savage tug. Cool storm air kissed my bare ass a second before his palm cracked across it—hard enough to sting, hard enough to make me cry out in pure heat. He rubbed the burn in, then notched that fat cockhead against my dripping entrance and held still, letting me feel the promise of the stretch.

“Tell me again whose cock you want,” he ordered, one hand fisting my hair, the other gripping my hip hard enough to bruise.

“Yours. Reid’s. The father’s. Not Theo’s—never his again.”

He slammed home in one brutal stroke that punched the air from my lungs and made the entire rail shudder. I was still tender from earlier; the fresh invasion burned so good I saw stars. He stayed buried to the root, grinding, letting me feel every thick inch while rain hammered the roof like applause.

“That’s it. Take it. Take what my boy never could give you.” He pulled almost all the way out, then drove back in so deep his balls slapped wetly against my clit. The rhythm he set was punishing from the first thrust—long, heavy strokes that rocked my whole body against the wood and forced broken, helpless moans from my throat. Each one echoed under the storm. “Feel how your cunt opens for a real man. You’re soaking me already. Squeezing like you never want me to leave.”

I pushed back to meet every snap of his hips, greedy, shameless. The taboo burned hotter than the friction—forty-eight-year-old rancher fucking his son’s leftover fiancée over the fence they’d just mended together, storm raging outside like it approved. His free hand snaked around and found my clit, rubbing tight filthy circles in time with his thrusts. I clenched hard around him and he cursed, slammed deeper, the wet slap of skin on skin loud even over the rain.

“I used to jack off thinking about this exact picture,” he growled against my ear. “You bent over something of mine, ring still on your finger, taking my cock like it was made for you. Never thought I’d get to keep you. Never thought you’d ask for it.” His fingers pinched my clit and I shattered—orgasm ripping through me so violent my knees buckled. I came with a raw cry of his name, walls fluttering and milking him for everything he had.

Reid didn’t slow. He fucked me straight through the climax, chasing his own now, hips pistoning harder, dirtier praise spilling hot against my neck. “Gonna fill this perfect cunt. Gonna mark what’s mine so deep you’ll drip me for days. Tell me you want it.”

“I want it—please, Reid, come inside me—”

He buried himself to the hilt with a guttural groan and pulsed, thick ropes of heat flooding me in heavy spurts that overflowed around his shaft and ran down my thighs. He stayed locked deep, grinding through every aftershock, one arm banded around my waist to keep me upright while we both shook.

When he finally eased out, the wet rush of his cum sliding down my legs made me whimper. He turned me gently, cupped my face with both callused hands, and kissed me slower—possessive, unfinished, already hungry again. Outside the storm still crashed against the barn. Inside, his cock was already half-hard against my hip.

“We’re not done,” he murmured, thumb stroking my lower lip. “Not even close. Storm’s got hours left in it. You’re staying right here where I can take you again whenever I want. Understand?”

I nodded, thighs slick, heart still racing, the rebound vow already rewriting itself in the dark.

I nodded against his chest, still shaking, the thick wet heat of him sliding down the insides of my thighs while rain hammered the tin roof like it wanted in on us. Reid’s hand stayed heavy on the back of my neck, thumb stroking slow, possessive circles. The barn smelled of wet cedar and sex and the clean animal musk of honest work. My jeans were still shoved down around my knees, sweater rucked up under my arms, bra half-torn from earlier. I should have felt wrecked. Instead I felt empty in the exact place that already ached for him again.

“Storm’s not done,” he murmured, voice rough against my hair. “Neither am I.”

He tucked himself away just long enough to drag a thick horse blanket over a low stack of hay bales near the far wall, the golden dust rising in the lightning flashes. Then he was on me again—no preamble, no soft asking. Callused hands gripped my hips and spun me, walking me backward until the prickly mass of the bale hit the backs of my thighs. Reid yanked the sweater the rest of the way off, bra following in one savage tug that left my breasts bare and bouncing. Cool air and his hot stare tightened my nipples to aching peaks. He pinned me hard against the hay, one thick thigh shoving between mine, mouth crashing down.

The kiss was pure hunger—teeth and tongue and the scrape of his stubble burning my lips raw. I moaned into it, fists already clawing at the front of his open flannel, hauling him closer. He swallowed every sound, grinding the heavy ridge of his cock against my still-slick cunt through the denim he hadn’t bothered to pull up. Hay scratched my bare back. His hands roamed everywhere—squeezing my tits, thumbing the bruised nipples he’d already marked, sliding down to cup my ass and haul me higher against him.

“Fuck, look at you,” he growled against my mouth. “Twenty-two years old, dripping my come, and already desperate for more of your ex’s daddy. My dirty little rebound slut.”

The words lit me up hotter than the lightning. I arched, rubbing shamelessly. “Please—”

He shoved my jeans and soaked panties the rest of the way down and off, boots and all, until I was bare and trembling against the bale. Two thick fingers found me without mercy—still flooded with him, swollen, sensitive—and drove straight into my cunt. I cried out. He curled them, stroked deep, thumb crushing circles over my clit while his mouth left mine to suck hard at my throat, my collarbone, the stiff peak of one nipple. The wet filthy sounds of his fingers fucking me filled the barn under the rain.

“Soaked,” he rasped. “Still open from my cock and already greedy again. Beg for it.”

“Reid—oh god—finger me harder, please, I need—” My hips bucked helplessly. He added a third finger, stretching me wide, pumping fast and rough until my knees nearly gave. The confession tore out of me between gasps. “I used to touch myself thinking about your hands. Bigger than his. Meaner. I came so many nights biting the pillow so Theo wouldn’t hear me moan your name instead.”

He snarled, withdrew his fingers shiny with us both, and spun me. One hard shove bent me forward over the hay bale, chest and cheek pressed into the prickly blanket, ass high. He kicked my feet wider. The fat blunt head of his cock notched against my entrance—scorching, already leaking again—and he slammed home in one brutal stroke that punched the air from my lungs.

“That’s it. Take every fucking inch, you filthy rebound slut.” His hands locked on my hips hard enough to bruise, yanking me back onto him as he drove forward. Deep, punishing strokes from the first thrust, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing under the storm. Hay dust floated. My tits swung with every impact. “This cunt was wasted on my boy. He never stretched you like this. Never made you drip down your own thighs.”

I pushed back to meet him, greedy, the stretch burning perfect, every ridge of that thick older cock dragging over nerves Theo had never even found. “Harder—fuck me harder—”

Reid gave it to me. Hips snapping, balls slapping my clit on every thrust, one hand fisting my hair to arch my back so he could bury himself deeper. The dirty talk poured hot and relentless against my ear.

“My dirty little rebound slut. Taking daddy’s cock like you were born for it. You feel that? That’s a real man claiming what’s left of you. Squeeze me. Milk it. Show me how much better this feels than that selfish little prick my son swings.”

I was already clenching, the taboo and the friction and the sheer size of him coiling everything tight and bright. He pulled out suddenly, flipped me onto my back on the blanket-covered bale like I weighed nothing, shoved my knees wide and high until I was fully spread and open for him. Lightning lit the raw hunger on his face—forty-eight, silver at the temples, eyes black with want—as he drove back into me to the root.

The new angle hit something devastating. I screamed, claws raking down his flannel, then under it, nails digging into the sweat-slick muscle of his back. He pounded me without mercy, deep punishing strokes that rocked the entire stack of hay, the thick length of him dragging out almost all the way before slamming home again and again.

“Better than his,” I moaned, broken and loud, the confession pouring out while I clawed red lines into his skin. “God, Reid—your cock—so much thicker—fills me so fucking full—he never—never felt like this—please don’t stop—”

“Say it again.” He fucked me harder, one hand pinning my wrists above my head, the other reaching between us to rub my swollen clit in filthy time with his thrusts. “Tell me whose cock ruins you.”

“Yours—the father’s—oh fuck—Reid—”

The orgasm detonated. I came screaming, walls locking down around that thick invading cock, vision whiting out as pleasure ripped through every nerve. My nails scored his back. Legs shook violently around his waist. He kept pounding me straight through it, chasing, growling praise and filth, until a second wave crashed harder than the first and I sobbed his name into the storm.

Reid buried himself to the hilt with a guttural curse and flooded me again—hot heavy pulses that overflowed around his shaft and soaked the blanket beneath us. He stayed locked deep, grinding through every aftershock, forehead pressed to mine, both of us shaking and gasping.

When he finally eased out, the rush of his come sliding from my spent cunt made me whimper. He didn’t let me close my legs. Just stared down at the mess he’d made, thumb smearing it slowly over my clit until I twitched and moaned again.

“Still not done,” he said, voice pure gravel, already half-hard against my thigh. Lightning flashed. Rain still roared. His hand spanned my belly, possessive. “Hours left in this storm, Hana. I’m keeping you right here on these bales until you can’t walk straight and every inch of you knows exactly who you belong to now. You understand me?”

I could only nod, boneless, marked, the rebound vow burning deeper with every fresh pulse of his seed still leaking out of me. His mouth found mine again—slower, claiming, unfinished—and I felt his cock thicken fully against my hip, ready for more. The barn doors stayed locked. The night was still young.

His cock was already thick and ready against my hip again, the storm still raging outside as if it meant to keep us trapped forever in this hay-scented heat. I wrapped my legs around him without a word, pulling him back into the cradle of my thighs, and Reid needed no further invitation. He shoved into me in one long, claiming thrust, burying every thick inch until his balls pressed flush against my ass. The stretch burned fresh even after everything he’d already poured into me, and I cried out into the wet-cedar dark, nails digging crescents into the hard muscle of his shoulders.

“Still so fucking tight,” he growled against my throat, hips rolling deep and slow at first, dragging that heavy shaft over every swollen ridge inside me. Lightning strobed across the rafters and painted the sweat on his back silver. I could feel every pulse of him, every ridge, every wet slide of his earlier cum being fucked back into my cunt. “Look at you taking it. My son’s leftover fiancée, legs spread on my hay like you were born to milk this cock.”

I arched hard, confessional heat spilling out of me between gasps. “I used to watch your hands at those dinners and wonder how they’d feel bruising my hips exactly like this. Theo was nothing. A boy who never lasted long enough to make me shake. You—fuck—you fill me until I can’t think.”

Reid snarled and drove harder, the hay bale shifting under us with every brutal snap of his hips. One callused hand pinned both my wrists above my head; the other shoved between us so his thumb could crush filthy circles over my clit. The wet slap of skin on skin rose louder than the rain. My tits bounced with every impact. I was already close again, the taboo coiling vicious and bright behind my eyes—twenty-two years old, dripping his seed, begging for more of the forty-eight-year-old man who had raised the bastard who left me at the altar.

“Come for me again,” he ordered, voice pure gravel. “Squeeze that greedy cunt around your ex’s daddy and show me how much better this is.”

I shattered on command. The orgasm ripped through me so hard my vision whited out; I screamed his name into the storm while my walls locked and fluttered, milking him in helpless pulses. Reid fucked me straight through it, relentless, chasing his own now, until he suddenly pulled free. I whimpered at the empty rush of air and cum. He flipped me onto my hands and knees on the blanket like I weighed nothing, shoved my chest down into the prickly hay, and slammed back into me from behind in one savage stroke that punched the breath from my lungs.

“Ass up. That’s it—arch for me.” His hands locked on my hips hard enough to leave fingerprints that would last days. He pounded me with long, punishing thrusts, balls slapping my clit on every drive, the wet filthy sounds of our joined bodies echoing under the tin roof. “This perfect little rebound cunt is mine now. Every time you need to be ruined, you come back here. Understand?”

“Yes—yes, Reid—harder—” I pushed back greedily, meeting every thrust, the confession tearing free raw and honest. “I want you to wreck me. I want to walk out of this barn still dripping you so every step reminds me who finally knew how to fuck me right.”

He reached under, pinched my swollen clit between rough fingers, and I came again with a broken sob, legs shaking so violently he had to band an arm around my waist to keep me upright. Reid buried himself to the root with a guttural groan and erupted—hot, heavy ropes flooding me so deep I felt every spurt pulse against my cervix. Overflow ran down my thighs in thick rivulets, mixing with the earlier mess, soaking the blanket beneath us. He stayed locked deep, grinding through the last aftershocks, forehead pressed between my shoulder blades while we both gasped and shook.

When he finally eased out, the rush of his cum sliding from my spent cunt made me whimper. Reid turned me gently onto my back again, still breathless, still dripping. I looked up at him—forty-eight, silver at the temples, eyes black with satisfied hunger—and felt a wicked, sated smile curve my mouth even as more of him leaked onto the hay.

“I’ll be back,” I vowed, voice hoarse and filthy with truth. “Every single time I need to be properly taken. You bend me over whatever you want in this barn and use me until I can’t walk. This is ours now.”

Reid’s laugh was dark and possessive. He cupped my face with both callused hands, thumbs stroking the tear tracks of pleasure from my cheeks, and sealed our filthy new secret with a slow, claiming kiss that tasted of rain and sex and absolute ownership. We both knew, as his tongue slid against mine and his half-hard cock nudged my sticky thigh, that this was only the beginning of our forbidden barn trysts. The storm could rage for hours more; the doors would stay locked; I would stay right here on these bales until every inch of me belonged to him.

I kept the one thing I knew pressed tight behind my ribs while he kissed me deeper: Theo had left a voicemail two hours ago begging me to meet him at the church ruins so we could “fix everything.” I had deleted it without listening past the first desperate syllable. Reid would never know his son was still out there reaching for what he had already lost.