Dad Breeds & Impregnates Me

A Dad/Daughter Blood Incest

6 Short Story Bundle

T. A. BEAU

Copyright © 2025 T. A. BEAU

All rights reserved.

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the writer and the publisher.

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Table of Contents{/b}

#1: Pregnant With Dad Country Singer’s Baby4

#2: Dad Gets Me Pregnant To Save My Marriage19

#3: Pregnant Taboo Orgy With Dad40

#4: Pregnant Office Threesome With Dad and Brother55

#5: Surprise Visit From Dad At Work Leads to Pregnancy72

#6: Dad Gets Me Pregnant After Failed IVF Attempts91

{1

#1: Pregnant With Dad Country Singer’s Baby

A Dad/Daughter Incest Erotica Short Story with breeding and pregnant.

WORD COUNT: 4000 words

BLURB

I have a surprise for Daddy, and the second the cameras go off, I two-time it to my dressing room. He is right behind me, desperate to get his hands on me. But I’m too excited to wait to tell him that he got me pregnant when we were writing the song we just performed. Daddy is excited, and there’s only one way he wants to celebrate.

---

The stage lights blaze down on us, their heat searing through my skin as I strum the first chord of the song. The crowd screams, a sea of faces blurred into anonymity, but all I can focus on is him-Joshua Cane, my father. His fingers move across the strings of his guitar with that familiar ease, and his deep voice rumbles into the mic like thunder rolling over a stormy plain.

God, his hands. I’ve always been transfixed by them. Strong, calloused from years of playing, yet so tender when they’re on me. My breath hitches as he glances over at me, those piercing blue eyes locking onto mine. There’s a fire there, one only I know the depths of. A secret we’ve carried for five years. A line we crossed and never looked back from.

We start to sing, our voices intertwining like they always do-effortless, natural, as though they were made to belong together. The lyrics we wrote months ago in that dimly lit studio hang heavy in the air, every word laced with memories. Memories of stolen moments between takes, his hands sliding up my thighs, my lips finding his neck. The way he’d murmur, “Ellie,” so softly, like it was the most sacred name he’d ever spoken.

I feel my body swaying to the rhythm, my hips moving unconsciously as I watch him. His voice dips lower, huskier, and I swear it’s like he’s speaking directly to me, not the thousands watching. My pulse quickens, my skin flushing under the lights. I can’t help it-singing with him has always been our foreplay. It’s what drew us into this dangerous dance to begin with.

It was two months ago.

Daddy-Joshua-sat across from me on the couch, his guitar resting against his thigh. His fingers moved effortlessly over the strings, plucking out a melody we’d been working on for hours. I was supposed to be writing lyrics, but my notebook sat forgotten in my lap. My pen was limp between my fingers, and all I could focus on was the way his hands moved.

“You’re not writing,” he said, breaking the silence. His voice was soft, teasing, but there was an undercurrent of something darker. Something that made my stomach twist in knots.

“I’m… distracted,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. My cheeks flushed, and I dropped my gaze to my hands. Liar. I wasn’t just distracted. I was consumed by him. By the way his shirt clung to his chest, the faint sheen of sweat on his collarbone after hours of playing. I wanted to run my tongue over it and taste the salt on his skin.

“By what?” he asked, leaning forward slightly. The neck of the guitar dipped, and his fingers stopped moving. The room felt impossibly quieter without the music.

I swallowed hard, my throat dry. “Your hands,” I blurted out before I could stop myself. “The way they move on the guitar. It’s… mesmerizing.”

He didn’t say anything at first. Just watched me, his blue eyes darkening with something I couldn’t quite place. Then, slowly, deliberately, he set the guitar aside. The sound of it hitting the floor was deafening in the stillness. He leaned back against the couch, spreading his legs slightly, and tilted his head.

“You like my hands, Ellie?”

The way he said my name-low, almost a growl-made my breath hitch.

His lips curved into a smirk, and he reached out, brushing his thumb over my bottom lip. His touch was electric, sending sparks through every nerve in my body. “Do you want them somewhere else?” he murmured, his voice dripping with temptation.

My mouth went dry, and I couldn’t think straight. I should have said no. I should have pushed him away and reminded him who we were and what this was. But the words didn’t come. Instead, I nodded again, my eyes locked on his.

“Say it,” he demanded, his tone sharp but his touch still gentle. He dragged his thumb lower, tracing the line of my jaw. “Tell me what you want, Ellie.”

“I…” I swallowed hard, my voice trembling. “I want your hands… on me. In me.”

It was all downhill from there. I don’t remember what he said in response, only how he closed the distance between us and how my father made me see stars that evening.

The final chorus builds, our voices rising together until the last note rings out, fading into silence before the crowd erupts in applause. I smile, bowing alongside him, but inside, I’m trembling. Tonight isn’t just about the song or the show. Tonight, everything changes.

As soon as we step offstage, the adrenaline still coursing through me, I don’t waste a second. I weave through the backstage chaos, my heels clicking against the floor, my heart pounding in my chest. I don’t need to look back to know he’s following me. I can feel it-the weight of his gaze, the pull between us that’s impossible to resist.

My dressing room door flies open, and I barely have time to step inside before he’s there, his body pressing against mine as he slams the door shut. His hands are on me instantly, gripping my waist, pulling me close. I gasp, my fingers tangling in his shirt as I push him further into the room.

“Ellie,” he growls, his voice rough with desire, and it sends shivers down my spine.

I don’t answer. Instead, I crash my lips against his, claiming him in the only way I know how. He groans into the kiss, his hands sliding up to cup my face, holding me like I’m something precious. But I don’t want gentle right now. I want him. All of him.

I tug at his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against mine, and he obliges, pulling it over his head and tossing it aside. My hands roam over his chest, relishing the hard planes of muscle beneath my fingertips. He’s always been so strong, so commanding, and it drives me wild.

His mouth moves to my neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin as his hands find the zipper of my dress. It slides down easily, the fabric pooling at my feet, exposing me to him. His breath catches, his eyes darkening as they rake over me.

“You’re fucking breathtaking,” he whispers, his voice thick with need.

His lips are on mine again before I can even catch my breath. The taste of him-whiskey and mint and something uniquely him-floods my senses, and I melt into it, into him. His hands grip my hips, pulling me closer until there’s no space between us. My body is on fire, and every nerve is alight with the need for more.

“Dad,” I whisper against his mouth, but he doesn’t let me pull away. His tongue tangles with mine, possessive and demanding, and I groan into the kiss. He knows exactly how to unravel me, how to make me forget everything except him.

He pulls back just enough to look at me, his dark eyes searching mine. “You’ve got something to tell me,” he says, his voice low and rough. It isn’t a question. He knows. He always knows.

My heart stutters in my chest. For a moment, I hesitate, the weight of what I’m about to say pressing down on me. But then his thumb brushes over my bottom lip, and all my defenses crumble.

“I’m pregnant,” I breathe, the words tumbling out before I can stop them.

His eyes flare, and he just stares at me unblinking for a heartbeat. Then, a slow, devastating smile spreads across his face, and he leans in, his lips brushing against my ear. “That’s my girl.”

The sound that escapes me is half-laugh, half-sob, and I bury my face in his neck, inhaling the familiar scent of him. His arms wrap around me, holding me so tightly it feels like he might never let go. And I don’t want him to.

“This is a celebration,” he murmurs, his hands sliding down to my thighs, gripping them firmly. Before I can process what he’s doing, he lifts me, pinning me against the wall. My legs instinctively wrap around his waist, and my breath hitches as his mouth finds my neck, teeth grazing my skin.

“Dad,” I gasp, my fingers clawing at his shoulders. “We… we don’t have much time.”

“Then we’ll make the most of it,” he growls, his voice sending a shiver down my spine.

His mouth crashes into mine again, hungry and insistent, and I moan into the kiss, my hips grinding against his. He tears his lips away, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down my throat and my collarbone until he reaches the swell of my breasts. His fingers hook into the straps of my bra, tugging them down roughly. When his mouth closes over my nipple, I cry out, arching into him.

“Shh,” he whispers, though there’s no mistaking the wicked gleam in his eyes. “We wouldn’t want anyone to hear, would we?”

I bite my lip, stifling another moan, but it’s no use. Every touch, every kiss, every brush of his skin against mine sends me spiraling. His hands slide down my sides, squeezing my hips before slipping between my thighs. My breath catches as his fingers find me, already slick with want.

“Fuck, Ellie,” he mutters, his voice thick with desire. “You’re so damn wet for me.”

I don’t answer; I can’t. His fingers are moving now, teasing and stroking, and I’m trembling, clinging to him like he’s the only thing keeping me from falling apart. His mouth returns to mine, swallowing my whimpers as he works me closer and closer to the edge.

Just when I think I can’t take anymore, he drops to his knees, and my nails scrape against the wall as his mouth replaces his fingers. I throw my head back, biting down on my fist to muffle the scream threatening to escape. His tongue flicks over me, lapping at my arousal like he’s starved for it, and I can feel the heat coiling tighter and tighter in my belly.

“Daddy,” I whimper, my hips bucking against his face. “Please…”

He doesn’t stop. If anything, he’s even more relentless, his tongue circling, teasing, driving me absolutely wild. My legs start to shake, and I know I’m close, so close, but he holds me there, teetering on the edge, until I’m begging him.

“Let go, baby,” he rasps, his breath hot against my skin. “Give it to me.”

And I do. The orgasm crashes over me like a tidal wave, and I clench my teeth, trying to stifle the sounds tearing from my throat. Joshua doesn’t let up, his mouth working me through every wave of pleasure until I’m boneless, sagging against the wall.

Joshua’s hands are all over me again as he spins me around to face him. His eyes are dark, hungry, and I don’t even have time to breathe before his mouth crashes into mine. It’s not gentle-it’s possessive, demanding, and I moan against his lips, my body arching into his.

His hands slide down to grip my waist, pulling me closer until there’s no space between us. He breaks the kiss just long enough to growl, “Been waiting all damn night for this,” before his lips find mine again. His tongue pushes past my teeth, claiming me in a way that leaves no doubt who I belong to. My hands fumble at his belt, desperate to feel him, to have him inside me like I’ve been craving since the moment we stepped off that stage.

He doesn’t let me finish. Instead, he grabs my wrists and pins them above my head with one hand. “You think you can tease me like that on stage?” he murmurs against my neck, his breath hot as he nips at the sensitive skin there. “Singing that song, looking at me like that… You knew what you were doing.”

I whimper, trying to pull my hands free, but his grip is unyielding. “Daddy-”

“No,” he cuts me off, his voice low and dangerous. “You don’t get to call me that right now. Not when you’re about to take every inch of me.” His free hand slides down my body, over my hip, and slips between my legs. I gasp as his fingers brush against me, finding me already wet from his ministrations. “Fuck, Ellie,” he groans. “So soaked for me? You really are made for me, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” I whine, squirming under his touch. “Please, Dad…”

He releases my wrists only long enough to grab my thighs and hoist me up, pressing my back against the door. My legs instinctively wrap around his waist, and I can feel the hard outline of him, grinding against me. He doesn’t give me a second to adjust, doesn’t bother with foreplay. With one swift motion, he shoves himself inside me.

The stretch is delicious, overwhelming, and I cry out, my nails digging into his shoulders. “God, yes,” I gasp, my head falling back against the door. He feels so good, so right, filling me completely. He doesn’t move at first; he just holds me there, letting me feel every inch of him.

“Look at me,” he commands, his voice rough. I drag my gaze up to meet his, and the intensity in his eyes sends a shiver down my spine. “This is mine,” he says, punctuating each word with a sharp thrust. “This pussy. This body. That baby growing inside you. All. Mine.”

I nod frantically, too lost in the sensation to form coherent words. He slams into me again and again, the force of it driving me harder against the door. Each thrust is punishing, relentless, and I love it. I love how he takes what’s his, how he makes me feel so utterly claimed. One of his hands grips my throat, not hard enough to hurt but enough to remind me who’s in control.

“Say it,” he growls, his breath hot against my ear. “Tell me who you belong to.”

“You,” I choke out, my voice trembling. “Only you.”

He tightens his grip slightly, and the combination of his hand on my throat and his cock buried deep inside me sends me spiraling. My orgasm crashes over me without warning, my body clenching around him as wave after wave of pleasure rips through me. I scream his name, my nails raking down his back as I fall apart.

My father doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow down. If anything, he fucks me harder, chasing his own release. “That’s it,” he mutters, his voice strained. “Take it. Take all of me.” His thrusts become erratic, and I know he’s close. He pulls out just long enough to spit into his hand, then guides himself back inside me, the slickness making everything feel even more intense.

When he finally comes, it’s with a low groan, his forehead pressed against mine as he spills himself deep inside me. For a moment, neither of us moves, both of us gasping for air as the aftershocks ripple through our bodies. Then, slowly, he lowers me back to the ground, his hands steadying me when my knees threaten to buckle.

He presses a soft kiss to my forehead, his thumb brushing over my cheek. “You okay?” he asks, his voice quieter now, almost tender.

I nod, still trying to catch my breath. “Perfect,” I whisper, leaning into him.

But the tenderness doesn’t last long. Before I know it, he’s scooping me up and carrying me over to the couch, laying me down gently and climbing on top of me. His hands roam over my body, tracing the curve of my hips, the swell of my belly.

“You’re gonna get so fucking round,” he says, his voice thick with desire. “All because of me. Because I put this baby in you.”

I moan softly, arching into his touch. “Yeah,” I murmur. “And no one else will ever do this to me. No one else could.”

He smirks, clearly pleased with my answer, and kisses me deeply before positioning himself between my legs again. He takes it slower this time, savoring every moment as he sinks into me. His thrusts are deliberate, each one hitting that perfect spot inside me, and it isn’t long before I’m clinging to him, begging for more.

“That’s it,” he whispers, his lips brushing against my ear. “Let go. Let me make you feel good.”

And I do. Again and again, he brings me to the edge and pushes me over until I’m a trembling, incoherent mess beneath him. When he finally comes, filling me once more, I lose myself in the feeling of him, in the knowledge that no matter what happens, I’ll always be his.

As we lie there tangled together, the faint sound of voices filters through the door. Joshua tenses, his arms tightening around me as he glances toward the exit. “They’ll be looking for us soon,” he murmurs, though he makes no move to get up.

I nod, reluctantly sitting up. “We should probably-”

Before I can finish, he’s pulling me back down, his lips crashing into mine in a kiss that’s full of promise. “Later,” he growls.

The air in the dressing room is thick with the scent of sweat and sex, our mingled breaths still heavy as I collapse against Joshua’s chest. His heartbeat thunders beneath my ear, steady and strong, like the rhythm of a country ballad. My thighs are trembling, slick, and warm from where he’s just been inside me, and I can feel him twitching against my hip, still half-hard even after coming twice already.

I tilt my head up, catching his eyes-those deep, familiar blue eyes that always seem to see right through me.

God, he looks so much like himself on stage, I think, tracing the stubble along his jawline with my fingertips. The same rugged charm that made millions of women swoon, the same crooked smile that always makes my stomach flip. But this? This is ours. A secret no one else gets to see.

“You’re gonna ruin your makeup,” he murmurs, his voice low and gravelly, but there’s a teasing edge to it that makes me grin.

“Already ruined,” I counter, leaning back just enough to swipe at the smudged mascara under my eyes. “Thanks to you.”

He chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest, and I feel it all the way down to my toes. “Pretty sure you were the one begging me to wreck you,” he says, his hand sliding down my back to squeeze my ass. “Don’t go blaming me for doing what I was told.”

I shiver, arching into his touch as my body stirs again, already craving more even though I know we don’t have time. The finale is in five minutes, and we’re both supposed to be back on set. But damn if I don’t want to stay here forever, wrapped up in him, in us.

“We should…” I start, but he cuts me off with a kiss, slow and deep, his tongue sliding against mine in a way that makes me forget what I was about to say. When he finally pulls away, I’m breathless, my lips swollen and tingling.

“We should what?” he asks, his voice dripping with amusement as he brushes a strand of hair out of my face.

I shake my head, trying to focus. “Fix up. Before someone comes looking for us.”

He groans, reluctantly releasing me as I slide off his lap and onto the floor. My legs wobble a little, and I grab the edge of the vanity to steady myself. The mirror reflects the mess we’ve made-his sweaty chest hair, my hair sticking out everywhere, lipstick smeared across his neck. It sends a thrill through me, knowing no one would ever guess that Judge Ellie Cane, prim and proper on TV, is capable of this.

Dad watches me as I clean up, his eyes dark and hungry, tracking every move I make. I catch his gaze in the mirror as I wipe away the smudges, biting my lip when he gives me that look-the one that always makes me melt.

“You’re beautiful,” he says, simple and sincere, and my cheeks flush.

“Stop,” I mutter, even though his words send a warm rush through me. “You’re gonna make me mess up again.”

He laughs, leaning back in the chair as he buttons his shirt. “Can’t help it. You’re irresistible.”

I roll my eyes but can’t help the smile tugging at my lips. We’ve been doing this for months now, sneaking around backstage, stealing moments wherever we can, and yet every time feels like the first. The risk, the adrenaline, the way he looks at me like I’m the only person in the world-it’s addictive.

As I finish fixing my makeup, I glance over at him. “So… I’ve been thinking.”

“Dangerous,” he teases, raising an eyebrow.

I stick my tongue out at him before continuing. “About… how I’m going to tell everyone. About the baby.”

His expression softens, and he sits up a little straighter. “Yeah?”

I nod, twisting the cap back on my lipstick. “I’ll tell them it was a one-night stand. Someone I don’t want to involve. But behind the scenes… I’ll say I went to a clinic. Sperm donor. IVF. That kind of thing.”

He’s quiet for a moment, studying me with those piercing blue eyes. Then he stands, crossing the room to cup my face in his hands. “You’ve thought this through,” he says, his thumb brushing over my cheek.

“Of course I have,” I reply, leaning into his touch. “I want this. More than anything.”

He smiles, pressing a soft kiss on my forehead. “Good girl.”

The praise sends a shiver down my spine, and I preen under his attention, my body humming with satisfaction. He steps back, letting me finish getting ready, but I can still feel his hot and possessive eyes on me as I wear and smooth out my dress and run a brush through my hair.

There’s a knock at the door, sharp and impatient, and we both freeze.

“Five minutes!” a voice calls, muffled through the wood.

“Be right there,” I call back, my voice surprisingly steady despite the way my heart is pounding.

Dad grabs his suit jacket, shrugging it on as I give myself one last once-over in the mirror. I look presentable enough, though I doubt anyone would notice the flush in my cheeks or the way my lips are slightly swollen if they weren’t looking too closely.

“Ready?” he asks, holding out his hand.

I take it, lacing our fingers together as we head for the door. His grip is firm and grounding, and I squeeze back, savoring the warmth of his skin against mine.

Just before we step out, he pulls me close, his mouth brushing against my ear. “Love you,” he whispers, sending a thrill through me.

“Love you too,” I murmur back, my voice barely above a whisper.

Then we’re out the door, slipping back into backstage chaos. The lights are blinding, the noise overwhelming, but I keep my head held high, my father’s hand in mine. No one suspects a thing.

My hand drifts to my belly as we walk, a small smile playing on my lips. Soon, I’ll be round with his baby. Our baby. And no matter what happens, we’ll figure it out. Together.

For now, though, it’s back to the show. Back to being Judge Ellie Cane and country star Joshua Cane. At least for a little while longer.

{1

#2: Dad Gets Me Pregnant To Save My Marriage

A Dad/Daughter Incest Erotica Short Story with breeding and pregnant.

WORD COUNT: 5100 words

BLURB

My marriage is falling apart. We’ve been trying to get pregnant for a year now, but nothing’s working. Adam refuses to believe the doctor when it turns out he’s the one with the problem. There’s only one man who can help me save my marriage. The guilt eats me up, but finally being with my father after a two-year forced separation overshadows everything. I just hope this works… for the sake of my marriage, of course.

---

“Lovell, I’m not doing this again. It’s your issue, not mine.” My husband’s voice slices through the quiet of our bedroom, sharp and cold. His words hang in the air like a guillotine, ready to drop.

I turn to face him, my blood boiling. “My issue? Are you serious, Adam? We’re supposed to be in this together. You can’t just dismiss me because it’s inconvenient for you.”

He throws his hands up, exasperated. “I’m not dismissing you. But nothing’s working, Lovell. Nothing. The tests, the doctors, the schedules-it’s all for nothing. Maybe we need to face facts.”

“Face facts?” My voice cracks, and I hate how weak it sounds. “You mean give up? Is that what you’re saying?”

He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t have to. The way he avoids my eyes tells me everything. My stomach churns, and for a moment, I think I might throw up. Instead, I storm out of the room, slamming the door behind me so hard the frame rattles.

The house feels suffocating, every corner closing in on me. I grab my keys and head for the car, needing space, needing air. As I drive, the arguments replay in my mind like a bad movie. Over and over, the same fights, the same frustrations. How did we get here? We used to be so happy. We used to want the same things.

But now... now it feels like we’re strangers living under the same roof.

When I pull up into the parking lot of the park, the sun is setting, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. I walk aimlessly, my thoughts spiraling. And then, like always, they drift to him. Cooper. My father. My rock.

He was the one who fixed everything when I was younger. Broken bike? He could fix it. Bad grade? He’d sit with me until I understood. Heartbreak? He’d make me laugh until I forgot I was crying. And when I started having... needs, he was there for that too. Always patient, always understanding.

It wasn’t strange back then. It felt natural. Safe. Like he was filling a void no one else could. But we stopped when I got married. That was the agreement. No looking back.

Yet here I am, looking back. Hard.

Images flash in my mind: his strong hands gripping my hips, his deep voice murmuring in my ear, the way he always knew exactly what I needed. My body reacts before I can stop it, warmth pooling between my legs as I remember how it felt to be with him. To feel so desired, so connected.

I miss him. The thought hits me like a punch to the gut. I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t. But I do.

Adam doesn’t look at me the way Cooper used to. Doesn’t touch me the same way. Doesn’t make me feel the same fire. And now, with the baby thing... it’s like he’s given up on us altogether. On me.

I pull out my phone, my fingers trembling as I scroll through my contacts. My dad’s name stares back at me, bold and unyielding.

What are you doing, Lovell? I ask myself, even as my thumb hovers over the call button.

This isn’t the solution. It can’t be. But the ache inside me says otherwise. The ache that’s been growing louder every day, demanding to be heard.

Before I can second-guess myself, I press call. My heart races as the line rings, each tone echoing in my ears like a countdown to something life-altering.

On the third ring, he answers. “Lovell?” His voice is low, familiar, and sends a shiver down my spine.

“Dad,” I whisper, my throat tight. “I... I need your help.”

There’s a pause, and I can almost see the way his brow furrows, the way his jaw clenches as he processes my words. “What’s wrong?”

Everything, I want to say. But instead, I take a deep breath and let the truth spill out. “I can’t get pregnant. Adam and I... we’ve tried everything. And I don’t know what to do anymore. I thought maybe... maybe you could...”

I trail off, unable to finish the sentence. But I don’t have to. He knows. Of course he does.

Another pause, longer this time. Then, softly, “Where are you?”

I tell him, and he doesn’t hesitate. “Stay there. I’m coming.”

The line goes dead, and I sink onto a park bench, my knees weak. What am I doing? What are we doing? This is wrong. So wrong.

I sit on the park bench, waiting. My heart pounds in my chest, each beat louder than the last. I can’t do this. Not again. My hands tremble as I pull out my phone and text him quickly.

“Nevermind.”

The message sends just as I see his truck in the distance. I don’t look up at him. I can’t. Instead, I stand and walk away, my legs carrying me back to my car before I can second-guess myself. The engine roars to life, and I drive home, my fingers gripping the steering wheel tightly.

When I get home, Adam is sitting on the couch, staring blankly at the TV. It’s been like this for weeks-silent dinners, cold shoulders, and arguments going nowhere. But tonight, I’m determined to try one last time.

“Adam,” I say softly, standing in front of him. He doesn’t look at me. “We need to go to the hospital. Please. Just one more time.”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Lovell, we’ve been over this. Nothing’s wrong with me. It’s-”

“Please,” I interrupt, my voice breaking. “For me. For us.”

Finally, he looks up at me, his eyes tired but softer than they’ve been in weeks. He nods slowly. “Okay. Fine.”

Five hours later, the sterile walls of the doctor’s office feel suffocating as we sit there, waiting for the results. Adam taps his foot impatiently, while I fidget with the hem of my dress. The doctor walks in moments later, clipboard in hand, and gives us a tight-lipped smile.

“Mr. and Mrs. Carter,” she starts, her tone professional but laced with something else. Sympathy? Pity? “The results are in.”

She pauses, and I hold my breath.

“Adam, your sperm count is significantly lower than average. This could be contributing to your difficulty conceiving.”

The words hang in the air like a storm cloud ready to burst. Adam’s face reddens, his jaw clenching. “That’s impossible,” he snaps. “There must be some mistake.”

The doctor shakes her head gently. “I assure you, the tests are accurate. There are treatments we can explore, or-”

“No,” Adam interrupts, standing abruptly. “This is bullshit. I’m not the problem.”

“Adam!” I call after him as he storms out of the room, slamming the door behind him. The doctor clears her throat awkwardly, but I barely hear her. My ears are ringing, my chest tightening.

I end up leaving the hospital alone half an hour later, clutching the paperwork the doctor handed me. I call Adam repeatedly, but each attempt goes straight to voicemail. By the time I get home, the house is empty. No note, no explanation-just silence.

The tension between us has been building for months, but tonight feels different. It’s not just about the baby anymore. It’s about him. About us. About how he’s changed since we got married. The man who used to make me laugh until my sides hurt now barely looks at me. The man who promised to love me forever now shuts me out every chance he gets.

And then there’s my father.

The memories come rushing back unbidden-his hands on my skin, his voice whispering promises only lovers should share. The way he made me feel whole when nothing else could. It’s wrong. God, it’s so wrong. But in those moments, it felt right. Like he was the only one who truly understood me.

I can’t believe I just shut him out.

Tears stream down my face as I sink onto the edge of the bed, my phone clutched in my hand. My thumb hovers over Adam’s name, ready to call him for the sixth time, when the screen lights up with an incoming call.

It’s him.

I hesitate for a moment before answering, my voice trembling. “Dad?”

“Lovell,” he says, his deep voice steady like always. “What happened?”

The sound of his voice breaks something inside me. All the walls I’ve built up around my emotions crumble, and I sob into the phone. “I don’t know what to do,” I choke out. “I tried to… I didn’t want it to seem like I was giving up without trying everything possible. I had to… But now, everything’s falling apart and I-”

“Shh, it’s okay,” he murmurs, his tone soothing. “Tell me where you are.”

“Home,” I whisper, even though it doesn’t feel like home right now. It hasn’t felt like home in months now. “But Adam’s… he’s not here. I don’t think he’s coming back.”

My dad hesitates for a moment and then says, “Meet me at our usual place.”

I nod, even though he can’t see me. “Okay.”

This is it. I can’t run away this time.

Less than two hours later, I’m parked outside the old lake house. It’s been years since I’ve been here, but the sight of it brings back a flood of memories. Nights spent under the stars, tangled in his arms. Days where the world outside didn’t matter, because we were all that existed.

We used to come here as a family when my mom was alive and I was a kid. And then it became just the two of us. And as I started having needs, my dad stepped in. Of course, he would. It’s only natural.

I step out of the car, my heels crunching against the gravel driveway. The air is crisp, carrying the faint scent of pine. The porch creaks under my weight as I climb the steps, and then I see him.

Cooper stands in the doorway, his broad frame silhouetted by the warm glow of the lights inside. His presence is commanding, as always, but there’s a softness in his eyes as he watches me approach.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he says gently, pulling me into a tight embrace.

I melt into his arms, breathing in the familiar scent of his cologne. It’s comforting and intoxicating all at once. Everything about him feels like home, even though it shouldn’t.

When he pulls back, his hands linger on my waist. “Come inside,” he says softly. “Let’s talk.”

I follow him into the house, my heart pounding in my chest. The air between us is thick with unspoken words, with memories we’ve tried to bury but never truly let go of.

As he closes the door behind us, I turn to face him. His eyes meet mine, and for a moment, neither of us speaks. The silence is heavy, charged with something I can’t quite name.

The lake house smells the same as I remember-pinewood and damp earth, with a faint hint of mildew clinging to the corners. The air here is thick, heavy, like it’s holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. For me to break.

I sit on the edge of the couch, my hands clasped tightly in my lap, my nails digging into my palms. Cooper sits across from me, his presence filling the room like he always does. His eyes don’t leave mine, steady and patient, the way they’ve always been. He’s always known how to wait me out.

“You called me. And then you ran,” he says finally, his voice low and calm. It’s not a question. It’s an accusation. Why now? Why, after two years of silence?

I look away, my throat tightening. “I didn’t know who else to call.”

His chair creaks as he leans forward, elbows resting on his knees. “Adam?”

Yes, my literal husband.

The name hangs between us like a guillotine. My chest aches at the sound of it, but not for the reasons it should. Not because I miss him. Because I’m ashamed.

“He doesn’t-” I stop myself, biting my lip hard enough to draw blood. “It’s not working, Dad. Nothing’s working.”

There’s a pause, and then his hand reaches for mine, his fingers brushing against my knuckles. The touch is electric, sending a shiver up my arm that I can’t suppress. His skin is warm, rough, familiar. Too familiar.

“Tell me,” he says, his voice soft but insistent.

My breath hitches. “We’ve been trying. For months. For over a year. And nothing. Adam thinks it’s me, but…”

“But what?”

Tears sting my eyes, and I blink them back furiously. “It’s not me. It’s him. But that’s just made him angrier.” The words tumble out before I can stop them, raw and jagged.

Cooper’s hand tightens around mine, his thumb tracing circles on my wrist. “Why didn’t you tell me, Lovell?”

I shake my head, pulling my hand away. “Because I was trying to fix it. Trying to make it work. I thought if I just kept going, if I just pretended-”

“Pretended what?”

I exhale sharply, my vision blurring. “That it was enough. That he was enough.”

Another silence stretches between us, heavy and suffocating. Then he stands, crossing the small distance between us. He kneels in front of me, his hands cradling my face, forcing me to look at him. His eyes are dark, unwavering. Predatory.

“What do you want, Lovell?”

The question hits me like a punch to the gut. I open my mouth, but no sound comes out. My mind races, thoughts colliding, each one louder than the last. What do I want? What do I want?

His thumbs brush my cheeks, wiping away tears I didn’t realize had fallen. “Say it.”