On the Otherside of Town

Cook, Clean & F***ed

Chapter Four:

Aurora's POV

After I swallowed, he picked me up and carries me down the hall to his bedroom. Panic settled in as I braced myself.

“Daddy is gonna show you how much he needed you and missed you baby girl.” I hate it when he calls me that I feel so dirty and ashamed.

He sets me on the bed and I get under the cover as he strips, then he lifts the covers off me and climbs on top.

Fuck Baby girl, you smell and look so fuckable, I’m gonna eat you up.”

He enters me as he kisses down my neck and pops my left breast into his mouth. I can’t help but to moan and that excites him while inviting him to push in deeper and I hate myself for missing his c**k inside me.

“That’s it, baby girl, take all of daddy’s big juice c**k,”

“I can’t Daddy it’s still too big.”

“Open your leg wide baby girl”

The pressure is intense as he manages to slip in even deeper until there is no space between us and he is holding on to me as if he’d let go I’d disappear.

Fuck!, ummm... so tight... so f*****g amazing…he yells out a bunch of incoherent sentences.

There I am tangled between my daddy's sheets and all I can think about is Micah and the fact that I’m having his kid.

Daddy flips me over until I’m on all fours with my ass in the air, “No Daddy I don’t…”But before I can even protest, he sticks his big-lengthy c**k into my ass.

Frank isn’t your typical father. I would be attracted to him if I wasn’t his daughter and was a woman in my thirties with a hard-on for men with brown tussled hair, green eyes and rock-hard abs with a cut v-line to his huge-ass c**k.

He thrusts deeper while grabbing me by the neck to control his trusts...and I let out a grunt, taking him in because he hates it when I complain. He hates anything other than me being submissive and taking what he gives me.

“Mmmmm….fuck daddy, please I’ll be a good little girl-”

He flips me over and sticks his tongue in my mouth without ever pulling out of my ass.

He f***s me until I start to feel drowsy and I can’t keep my eyes open. All I know is that he’s f*****g me so well that the only thing I feel is shame washing over me and then everything fades to black.

As the darkest takes over me...

I dream I’m floating way above the sky, like nothing can touch me. No fear, no pain, no shame—just this calm, quiet place where I’m safe, where no one can hurt me. In my dream, I’m someone who’s seen and valued, someone who’s loved the right way. Not used, not broken, just… loved.

But then I wake up, and it’s all still here. The weight, the darkness, the mess I can’t seem to escape. And now there’s this baby. This life is growing inside me. How am I supposed to protect her when I can’t even protect myself? What kind of mother will I be if I’m too scared to save myself? The thought of her looking up at me, trusting me, needing me to keep her safe—it’s terrifying. I don’t know how to do that. I’ve never had anyone show me how.

I wish I could drift away, just disappear into a place where it’s all better. Somewhere I can be a kid again, where a mother’s love feels soft and warm, where her arms wrap around you and make everything okay. Where a father’s love doesn’t sting, doesn’t burn with every touch, doesn’t leave scars you can’t see but can feel every second of every day.

I want to be whisked away to a world where the days are safe and bright, where I don’t feel like I’m suffocating under the weight of everything I’ve been through. Somewhere I belong. Somewhere I’m enough.

But that’s just a dream, isn’t it? That place doesn’t exist, not for someone like me. I keep waiting for it to come, for some miracle to save me. But no one’s coming. It’s just me. And I don’t know if I’m strong enough.

And then my thoughts drift again and I am talking to my little one under a big oak tree....

Please stay safe in there. I wish I could promise you the world, a better life than the one I’ve known, but I’m scared. Scared I’ll fail you, scared I won’t be enough to protect you from the things I couldn’t protect myself from.

I keep asking myself—what’s the right thing to do? Should I bring you into this world and fight every day to give you the love and safety I never had? Or should I spare you the pain, save you from a life that might feel as heavy and broken as mine?

I want to believe I can be strong enough to make things better for you. I want to believe that I can change, that I can give you the kind of love that doesn’t hurt, the kind that heals. But what if I can’t? What if I fail you like everyone failed me?

You deserve so much more than what I’ve known. You deserve a mother who can protect you, someone who makes you feel safe, wanted, and loved—always loved. And I’m just not sure if I’m that person.

So please, if you’re listening somehow, help me find the answer. Help me make the better choice—for you and for me. Because whatever I do, I only want what’s best for you. Always. Mom

And then I drift again...

I drift until I dream about what it would be like if everything were… normal. If I were just a regular girl, living a regular life. Like if Micah wasn’t just my secret, but my real boyfriend—the kind who’d hold my hand in public, take me on dates, and show me off to everyone like I was something to be proud of.

In my fantasy, we’re sitting in his room, not sneaking around, but just being together because we can. His arm is draped around me, his fingers tracing little circles on my shoulder while we talk about the future like it’s something bright and full of possibilities.

“Babe, you okay? You’ve been quiet,” he’d ask, concern flickering in his eyes. And it wouldn’t be fake or shallow—it’d be real. Like he actually cared.

“I’m fine,” I’d say, trying to muster a smile, but my hands would fidget in my lap. He’d notice, of course, because in this version of him, he pays attention. He’d gently take my hands in his, stopping their nervous movements.

“What’s going on?” he’d ask, leaning in closer, his voice soft but steady. And I’d feel safe enough to tell him, to let him in.

“I’m… pregnant,” I’d whisper, the words hanging in the air between us, my heart pounding as I waited for his reaction.

In my dream, he doesn’t freak out or get angry. He doesn’t push me away or make me feel like it’s my fault. Instead, his brows furrow for a moment, processing, and then he lets out a long breath. “Okay,” he’d say, nodding like he’s reassuring himself as much as me. “Okay. We can figure this out.”

“We?” I’d ask, barely able to believe it.

“Of course, ‘we,’” he’d reply, squeezing my hands tighter. “I’m not going anywhere. This is our baby, Aurora. We’re in this together.”

And in that moment, I’d feel something I’ve never felt before: hope. Like maybe things could be different. Like maybe I wasn’t as alone as I thought. In my fantasy, Micah would kiss me—soft and sure—and tell me everything was going to be okay. And I’d believe him because, in that version of my life, I could.

But then I blink, and the dream fades, replaced by the reality I can’t escape. Micah isn’t that guy. He never was, and he never will be. And me? I’m just a girl from the wrong side of town, stuck trying to figure out if there’s any way to make this life something worth living. But still, for a moment, the dream felt so real. And sometimes, that’s enough to get me through the day.