Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 29589 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 148(@200wpm)___ 118(@250wpm)___ 99(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29589 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 148(@200wpm)___ 118(@250wpm)___ 99(@300wpm)
Her phone dings to signal a text and she looks down, reading the message, her sobs renewing themselves a second later.
“Shea,” I say, entering the room, my stomach tightening when those wide, gorgeous eyes fly toward me, more tears tracking down her cheeks. Oh, I don’t like to see her sad. Uh-uh. Not at all. “Don’t worry, I’m going to fix everything, angel. I’ll have you back in here in a week, tops. It’ll be good as new.”
Shea nods bravely, but her bottom lip is wobbling. “I know.” She looks down at her phone again. “It’s just that a lot of my things will have to be replaced and…”
When she trails off and doesn’t continue, I take a few steps closer until I can tilt her chin up with my fingers. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot the lavender thong she told me about last night. It’s sitting on the floor by the foot of the bed. It’s even briefer than I imagined, and that little white bow on the ass…goddamn, it stirs me right up. So provocative and innocent at the same time.
Focus.
“A lot of your things will need to be placed and what?”
She presses her lips into a line. “Nothing.”
I take firmer hold of her chin. “Shea.”
My authoritative tone causes her pupils to expand.
My blood hums in response. Heats.
“My dad is a little financially strapped at the moment. My mom is between jobs, too. Funds are tight.” That lush bottom lip wobbles again, drawing my gaze. “He’s going to have to sell his favorite guitar to send me the extra money. I feel terrible.”
“Shhh, angel. Come here.” I pull her into my arms and she collapses there, her cheek buried in my chest. I stroke my palm down the back of her hair, massage the nape of her neck with my thumb. She sighs, some of the tension leaving her small frame. Gradually, she presses in tighter, lifting onto her tip toes and circling her arms around the back of my neck, her tits dragging up my chest, her hips shifting next to mine, causing an involuntary reaction in my briefs. My balls weigh down, the heavy stalk of my sex lifting. Swelling at her nearness.
A warning bell goes off in my head. I’m crossing the line.
Again.
So soon, too.
But I didn’t get to hold her last night. That must be the reason, I elevate Shea off the floor with my forearm beneath her ass, grunting at her to wrap her legs around my hips. She purrs a little in her throat as she does it, and fuck, fuck, it feels so good, this forbidden position. Across the room, I see our reflections in the window.
A big older man holding a too-young college girl, his tattooed arm acting as a seat for her pert butt. She’s wearing white sneakers and tiny black bike shorts. A hoodie. Her blonde hair is in a ponytail. She is every inch the freshman co-ed. I should set her down and walk away. Get back to work.
I don’t.
I’m incapable.
Instead, I rock her side to side in my arms, my lips pressed to her fragrant hair.
Mine.
“Tell me what you need replaced, Shea, and I’ll make sure you get it.”
She tenses in my arms, her eyes shooting to mine. “But…no. What?”
Holding her like this, her eyes puffy with tears, drugs me with possessiveness. That same sense of responsibility I felt last night when she needed a man to take charge. To cover her up for that party. Then, later, to be spanked.
Maybe…Shea is simply my responsibility. Maybe that’s the end of the discussion.
Maybe I never had any choice.
I hold her gaze. “If your father can’t provide what you need, then I will.”
She blinks. “Why would you do that?”
“Because I can.” My mouth gravitates toward hers. When our lips brush ever so slightly, her breath stutters out. “Because I want to.”
“Replacing my clothes and text books could cost thousands.”
“That’s fine.”
“But you’re not my father.”
“No.” Oh God, my cock hardens into steel over what’s coming. What I’ve felt coming since last night. This force that is barreling down on me, demanding I accept the connection between me and this girl. I’m not sure I ever stood a chance against a fate this powerful. “I’m not your father, but I am your Daddy, aren’t I, Shea?”
Those pupils dilate again. My window into her soul.
Her thighs start to tremble around my hips.
“Daddy,” she whispers, as if testing out the word. Loving it, according to her blush. “But wouldn’t buying me things make you…my sugar Daddy?”
Semen leaks from the head of my cock.
Jesus help me.
I shouldn’t love that title so much. In fact, it’s fucking silly.
It’s the implication that has me ready to burst in my jeans.
I walk her over to a dresser that is thankfully intact, setting her down on the edge, but keeping my hips firmly wedged between her thighs. “I’m only your sugar daddy if I get to fuck you in exchange for money, angel.”