"Dad, you still keep this old thing?" Ashley tugged at the frayed edge of the hammock strung between two oaks. Her voice cut through the quiet backyard.

Eddie looked up from the grill, wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. "Some things are worth holding onto." He flipped a burger. Grease sizzled on the hot metal. The smell of charred meat mixed with summer air. "Remember when you’d beg me to push you higher? Almost flew into Mrs. Henderson’s roses once."

Ashley laughed, sinking into the hammock’s worn fabric. It creaked under her weight. She stretched, the movement pulling her tank top tight. "Scared the hell out of her. You bribed me with ice cream to keep quiet." Sunlight caught the blonde streaks in her curls. She watched him over her shoulder. His eyes flicked away too fast.

Silence settled. He focused on scraping the grill. Ash picked at a loose thread. The backyard felt smaller now. Cramped. She shifted, the hammock swaying. Her dad cleared his throat. "Burger’s almost done." His voice sounded rough.

The screen door slammed open. Eddie jumped. Ash sat up fast. Her mom stood there, suitcase at her feet, keys dangling. "Flight got cancelled. Storm over Chicago." She looked tired, irritated. "Hope there's enough food."

Ashley watched her dad’s face fall. Just for a second. Then it smoothed over. "Plenty," he said, too cheerfully. He flipped the burger again, grease flaring. The air smelled burnt now.

Ash sank back. The hammock ropes groaned. She stared at the clouds gathering, grey and heavy. Her mom’s unexpected return sat like a stone in her gut. The easy rhythm of the afternoon shattered. Everything felt tight. Close. She could still feel where her dad’s eyes hadn’t quite landed.

"Daddy?" The word slipped out, softer than she meant it. Unfamiliar. It hung between them. Eddie froze, spatula hovering over the grill. He didn’t turn. Ash swallowed. "Did you… did you fix the leak in the basement shower yet?" Her voice sounded thin. Why had she called him that?

Her mom sighed loudly, dragging her suitcase towards the house. "Eddie, that leak’s been there since Easter. Honestly." The screen door banged shut behind her. The silence after was thick. Hot. Ash watched her dad’s shoulders tense beneath his thin t-shirt. He finally looked over his shoulder.

His green eyes met hers. Held. Just a beat too long. There was something raw there. Surprised. Hungry. Ash felt a flush creep up her neck. The air crackled, thick with the smell of rain and burnt meat. She dug her fingers into the hammock’s weave. Waiting.

Then it hit. Rain. Heavy and sudden. Fat, cold drops splattered Ash’s flushed skin, soaking her tank top instantly, plastering it to her curves. Her mom cursed from inside the house, a muffled shout about closing windows. Eddie moved fast, abandoning the grill. He grabbed the edge of the hammock, his hand brushing her bare arm – a spark of heat against the cool rain.

"Come on, Ash!" His voice was rough, urgent. Rain plastered his salt-and-pepper hair to his forehead. Water streamed down his face, dripping off his jaw. He didn’t look away.

He practically hauled her out, her body sliding against his as she stumbled onto the wet grass. Lightning flashed, bleaching everything white for a split second. Thunder cracked overhead, loud enough to feel in the chest. They were both drenched, inches apart under the thrashing branches of the oaks.

Rain poured down Ash’s face, blurring her vision, but she saw his eyes. Dark. Intent. Fixed on her mouth. Her breath hitched. His hand was still on her arm, hot through the soaked cotton. The air vibrated. Every nerve ending screamed.

The back door slammed open again. "Eddie! Ashley! Get in here, you’ll catch your death!" Her mom’s voice was sharp, slicing through the storm. Ash jumped. Eddie’s hand dropped like it burned. He took a step back, wiping rain from his eyes, but his gaze never fully left her. The moment stretched, taut and electric, as the rain hammered down around them. He cleared his throat.

"Go inside, sweetheart." The endearment was rough, unfamiliar. Heavy. Ash shivered, but not from the cold. She turned towards the house, feeling the weight of his stare burning into her back, hotter than the vanished sun.

The grill hissed violently as the rain extinguished the flames, sending up a plume of bitter smoke that clung to the soaked air. Eddie swore under his breath and grabbed Ash’s elbow, steering her away from the dying coals towards the small wooden shed tucked against the fence.

"Quick, before the sky falls!" he shouted over the roar of the rain.

The shed door groaned open, revealing dusty tools, stacked lawn chairs, and the sharp smell of damp earth and old gasoline. They stumbled inside just as the downpour intensified, drumming a frantic rhythm on the thin roof. The sudden dimness felt thick, intimate. Water streamed from their clothes onto the packed dirt floor.

Eddie fumbled for a light switch. A single bare bulb flickered on, casting stark shadows. Ash leaned against a workbench, catching her breath. Her wet tank top clung, outlining every curve. She pushed a tangle of dripping curls from her face. Eddie turned away, busying himself with a stack of plastic bins.

"Should dry off," he muttered, his voice tight. He pulled out a faded towel and thrust it towards her without looking. His knuckles brushed her fingers. A jolt. They both froze. His eyes flicked to hers – green meeting green – and the air crackled again, thicker than the humidity.

Then Ash saw it. Taped crookedly to the inside wall above the workbench: a faded photo. Her, maybe ten, grinning wildly in a too-big life jacket on a canoe trip. Scrawled in familiar, blocky handwriting beneath it:

"*Ash-hole – Lake Serenity ’09*." Her childhood nickname, written in her dad’s hand. A choked laugh escaped her.

"You kept this?" Eddie turned, following her gaze. A slow, almost shy smile touched his lips as he looked at the photo, then back at her.

"Some memories," he said softly, stepping closer. The rain drummed louder. He reached out, not for the towel, but to gently tuck a wet strand of hair behind her ear. His thumb lingered, tracing the curve of her jaw. Ash stopped breathing. The shed walls seemed to close in.

The touch burned. Ash leaned into it, just a fraction. His hand slid down her neck, rough calluses catching on her damp skin. His other arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against him. She could feel the solid warmth of his chest through her soaked shirt, the frantic beat of his heart against hers. The damp air filled with the scent of rain, earth, and the sharp tang of his sweat. He buried his face in her hair, inhaling deeply.

"Ashley," he breathed, a raw sound against her temple. Not a question. A claiming.

Her fingers curled into the fabric of his wet t-shirt. She tilted her head back, meeting his gaze. The hunger she saw there mirrored her own. It stripped away every pretense. There was no summer break, no university, no mom in the house. Just this. His mouth crashed down on hers, urgent and possessive.

The kiss was hot, deep, tasting of rainwater and something fiercely primal. His hands slid under her shirt, palms rough and warm on her bare skin. Ash arched against him with a gasp that was swallowed by the storm outside. The shed became a world unto itself, charged and trembling.

He backed her against the rough workbench, scattering tools that clattered to the dirt floor. His lips trailed fire down her neck, his teeth grazing her collarbone. She tangled her hands in his wet hair, pulling him closer.

"Daddy," she whispered again, the word a plea this time, raw and wanting. It unleashed something in him. He lifted her effortlessly onto the bench, the wood cool beneath her thighs. His eyes, dark with need, held hers as his hands pushed her soaked shorts down her hips. The air felt thick, electric.

Her breath hitched as his calloused fingers traced the curve of her hip, sliding beneath the edge of her plain cotton panties. He paused, searching her face.

"Ashley... are you sure?" His voice was gravel, strained. She nodded, unable to speak, her green eyes wide and trusting. He kissed her again, deep and slow now, a counterpoint to the frantic drumming rain on the roof. His fingers slid lower, finding her wet heat, not just from the storm. She cried out softly against his mouth, her body arching.

He worked her with rough, tender expertise, his thumb circling her clit while two fingers plunged inside. Ash gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders. "Daddy... please..." The word was a ragged whisper, shattering the last barrier. Eddie groaned, fumbling with his belt buckle. His jeans, soaked and heavy, hit the dirt floor. He was thick and hard, straining against his boxers. Ash reached for him, her small hand trembling as she touched him through the wet cotton. He shuddered.

"Look at me," he commanded, voice thick. She obeyed, her green eyes dark with need. He tore her panties aside, the fabric ripping. The sound was loud in the small space. He gripped her hips, pulling her to the very edge of the bench. Rain lashed the roof like a drumroll. He pressed the broad head of his cock against her entrance, hot and insistent. Ash tensed, a flicker of fear in her eyes. He stilled, brushing her cheek. "Easy, sweetheart. Just breathe."

He pushed in slowly, stretching her tight virgin flesh. Ash gasped, fingers clawing at his back. Her eyes squeezed shut. "Hurts..." she whispered. Eddie groaned, burying his face in her neck.

"I know, baby. Almost there." He held himself rigid, trembling with restraint. Inch by inch, he filled her, the slick heat of her almost unbearable. When he was fully sheathed, they both froze, panting. Her inner muscles fluttered around him, adjusting. He kissed her eyelids, her temple, murmuring nonsense. "So good... taking me so well..."

Ash opened her eyes. The raw ache was fading, replaced by a deep, unfamiliar fullness. She shifted her hips experimentally. Eddie hissed, his control snapping. He pulled out almost completely, then thrust back in hard. Ash cried out – not in pain, but shock. A spark ignited low in her belly. He did it again. And again. Setting a relentless rhythm that rocked the workbench against the shed wall. Tools rattled. Rain hammered the roof in time.

His hands gripped her hips, holding her open, impaling her on each deep stroke. The friction built, coiling tight inside her. She met his thrusts, arching, her breasts swaying with the motion. Eddie watched her, mesmerized, his green eyes blazing. "Look at you," he rasped. "My girl... taking her daddy's cock..."

The filthy words sent a jolt through her. Her climax hit suddenly, violently. She screamed, back bowing, her inner walls clamping down on him in pulsing waves. Eddie roared, his thrusts turning frantic, brutal. He slammed into her one last time, deep, grinding against her clit as he emptied himself inside her with a guttural groan that shook his whole body.

He collapsed against her, spent, his breath hot and ragged on her skin. They stayed locked together, trembling in the aftermath. The storm raged outside, but inside the shed, the air hung thick and still, heavy with the scent of sex and damp earth. Ash traced the salt-and-pepper stubble on his jaw.

Eddie turned his head, pressing a kiss to her palm. His eyes held hers, dazed, awed, and utterly wrecked. The world outside – the house, her mother, the rain – felt impossibly distant. There was only this. Only him. Only the irrevocable line they’d crossed.

Slowly, gently, he pulled out. Ash winced at the sudden emptiness, the slick warmth between her thighs a stark reminder. Eddie grabbed the towel he’d offered earlier, now crumpled on the dirt floor. He hesitated, then carefully began to wipe her thighs, his touch unbearably tender.

His knuckles brushed her inner thigh, sending a fresh shiver through her. He avoided her eyes, focusing on the task, his movements slow and deliberate. The silence stretched, filled only by the drumming rain and their own unsteady breathing.

He helped her off the workbench. Her legs felt shaky, unfamiliar. She leaned into him, her head resting against his damp chest. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close.

"Ashley," he murmured, his voice rough with emotion she couldn’t name. Regret? Possession? Wonder? He buried his face in her wet hair. "What have we done?" The question hung in the air, not seeking an answer, just echoing the enormity of it. Ash tightened her arms around his waist, pressing closer. The fear was there, a cold knot in her stomach, but it was drowned out by the fierce, possessive warmth flooding her veins.

A sharp rap on the shed door shattered the fragile cocoon.

"Eddie? Ashley? Are you two drowned rats in there?" Her mother’s voice, sharp with impatience, cut through the rain. They jerked apart like startled animals. Panic flared in Eddie’s eyes. Ash scrambled for her ripped panties, stuffing them into the pocket of her shorts. Eddie yanked his jeans up, fumbling with the buckle.

"Just... grabbing some tarps!" he called out, his voice strained but surprisingly steady. He grabbed a dusty blue tarp from a shelf, his hands trembling slightly. He glanced at Ash, his gaze intense, searching.

"You okay?" he mouthed silently. She nodded, smoothing her soaked tank top, trying to school her flushed face into something neutral. The shed door rattled. Reality crashed back in, cold and relentless.

Ash pulled the shed door open a crack. Rain lashed her face. Her mother stood on the back porch, arms crossed, silhouetted against the kitchen light. "Well? Get inside! Dinner’s ruined, thanks to this mess. And Eddie, the basement is leaking again! Water’s pooling by the washing machine." Her tone was clipped, annoyed.

Ash stepped out into the downpour, avoiding her mother’s eyes, focusing on the slick grass under her bare feet. Eddie followed, unfolding the tarp with jerky movements to cover the ruined grill. His knuckles were white where he gripped the plastic. Ash felt the phantom ache between her thighs with every step, a secret brand. The warmth of him inside her still echoed, a stark contrast to the cold rain.

Inside the bright kitchen, the air felt stifling. The smell of burnt burgers mingled with her mother’s floral perfume. Ash grabbed a dish towel, rubbing it over her dripping hair, hiding her face. Her mother bustled past, muttering about wet floors and wasted food. Eddie stood by the sink, staring out the window into the storm-darkened yard, his shoulders rigid.

Ash watched him, the way his damp t-shirt clung to his back, remembering the feel of his muscles bunching under her hands. He turned, catching her gaze. A flicker of raw heat passed between them before he quickly looked away, clearing his throat.

"I’ll... I’ll go check the basement leak," he mumbled, heading for the basement stairs, escaping the tension thickening the air.

Ash lingered at the sink, rinsing her hands. The water felt cold, impersonal. She looked down. A faint smear of pink bloomed in the water swirling down the drain. Her virgin blood. Proof. Her stomach clenched. She shut off the tap, leaning heavily on the counter. From the basement, she heard the low murmur of her father’s voice, probably cursing the leak. But all she could feel was the ghost of his hands, the possessive weight of his stare.

The secret pulsed inside her, hot and dangerous. She touched her lips, still swollen from his kisses. The house felt like a cage now, the storm outside a mirror to the chaos within. Her mother’s oblivious chatter about flight delays was just noise. Ash closed her eyes, breathing in the lingering scent of rain and sex on her own skin. Everything had changed.

Eddie emerged from the basement stairs, wiping greasy hands on a rag. His eyes found hers instantly. That raw, unguarded hunger was back for a split second before he veiled it.

"Pipe’s cracked good," he announced, his voice too loud in the quiet kitchen. He avoided looking directly at Ash, focusing instead on her mother. "Need a new coupling. Hardware store’s closed now." He tossed the rag onto the counter near Ash. It landed with a soft thud. Her fingers brushed it. Still warm from his grip. She snatched her hand back.

Dinner was a tense pantomime. Ash pushed cold, charred burger around her plate. Her mother complained about the airline, the weather, the leak. Eddie offered grunts of agreement, his gaze flickering constantly to Ash. Every accidental brush of his arm against hers as he passed the salt sent electric jolts through her.

She shifted in her chair, the wooden seat pressing against her soreness. A constant, aching reminder. When his foot nudged hers under the table, she froze. His eyes held hers – a silent question, a shared flame. She nudged back, just once. His jaw tightened. The air crackled with unsaid things.

Later, Ash stood in the steamy bathroom, the shower running to mask the sound. She traced the faint red marks his stubble had left on her inner thighs. The mirror fogged, hiding her reflection. She didn’t need to see it. His possession was written on her skin, branded into her core. A soft knock made her jump. Her heart hammered.

"Ash?" His voice, low and rough, seeped through the door. "You okay in there?" It wasn’t just concern. It was a claim. She pressed her palm against the cool wood, imagining him on the other side. Waiting. Needing. Just like her.

"Yeah, Daddy," she whispered, the word thick with promise. "I’m okay." The silence that followed was heavy, charged. The storm outside had lessened, but the one inside them was just beginning.

Downstairs, the TV droned. Her mother’s voice floated up, complaining about the Wi-Fi....