All Chapters of Tamed By DomDaddy: Chapter 1 - Chapter 6

My phone felt like a block of hot lead in my palm, I shoved it deep into my back pocket, staring up at the closed door of the attic guest room, It couldn't be him, it was a statistical impossibility, there were thousands of men in this state, thousands of profiles but the math didn't lie, and neither did the small white scar I had stared at in high-definition photos for three straight weeks."Hey! You coming down or what?" my father called out from the bottom of the stairs."Yeah! Coming!" I yelled back, my voice cracking slightly. I took a deep breath, forced my face into a neutral expression, and walked downstairs to the dining room.My dad was already sitting at the head of the wooden table, popping the top off a glass beer bottle. Sitting to his right, perfectly relaxed, was the man from the attic. He had changed into a simple black t-shirt that hugged his massive chest and arms, making his broad frame look even more imposing in the small room."Sit down," my dad said, gesturing t

The low, heavy rumble of my dad’s pickup truck idling in the driveway shook the glass in my bedroom window, morning light leaked through the thin blinds, casting sharp, pale stripes across the carpet, i had barely slept two hours, every time I closed my eyes, the ghost of Marcus’s rough thumb against my jawline snapped me wide awake, setting my skin on fire all over again.I threw off my blanket and stood up, my muscles aching with exhaustion, my phone lay on the bedside table where I had left it, i didn't even need to pick it up to know what was on the screen, the notification light kept blinking its slow, steady blue pulse, reminding me that the dynamic had changed forever.Downstairs, heavy footfalls moved quickly back and forth between the kitchen and the front porch."Got the ice chest loaded!" my dad’s loud, booming voice carried straight up the stairwell. "Marcus, you sure you don't want to come out to the lake? Plenty of beer, and the bass are practically jumping into the boat

I handed the phone over without another word. Marcus took it, turned it face-down on the counter, and walked out of the kitchen. A minute later I heard the heavy click of a metal case shutting somewhere near the front hall, followed by the soft scrape of a key turning in a lock.The house felt weird without the phone. Not empty—just quiet in a way that made every small sound stand out. The refrigerator hummed. A floorboard upstairs settled. My own breathing seemed too loud. I stood bare-chested in the kitchen, still holding the spatula I’d grabbed out of habit, and stared at the empty spot on the counter where the phone had been. Three weeks of messages, pictures, late-night commands—all of it locked away inside something I couldn’t reach.Marcus came back carrying a thick folder and a laptop. He set everything on the dining table, sat down, and opened the laptop without looking at me. The blue light of the screen lit the side of his face. He started reading, turning pages slowly, mak