Possessive Daddy (Yes, Daddy 8) - Page 5

With her attention turned in the other direction I realize now is my only chance. I throw a crisp Alexander Hamilton on the table and I slide the chair sideways and walk to the door, bent over at the waist as my erection throbs in pain.

Stepping outside onto the street, a gust of air hits me in the face, but that’s not all. The complete lack of sunlight informs me as to just how long I’ve been sitting in that damn coffee shop. It wasn’t an hour. It was hours, plural.

The place has plenty of glass so all I had to do that entire time was to look outside, but how could I when I was so focused on her? It’s like Las Vegas in there…completely addicting. It shouldn’t be though. They’ve even got a clock on the wall, it’s just that time stands still when I’m inside. Nothing is more important than the time I spend, albeit only in my mind, with her each and every day.

I stand off to the side, trying to regain my composure and knowing I’m not going to be able to walk down the street in my current condition.

I watch for a few minutes as people file out of the coffee shop, not even realizing they’d been inside. Was I that fixated on her? Am I a damn stalker?

I need help, bad. Or more accurately, I need her. Now.

Leaning against the wall I fight the urge to go back inside, my dick finally subsiding to the point where I can leave, knowing I’ll be right back here tomorrow to repeat this process all over again.

Out of nowhere, I hear a strange barking sound coming from behind the cafe. The dog sounds like he’s angry, trying to alert someone almost. I hightail it around the corner of the building and into the alley, my gut fearing the worst, although it’s highly improbable. Why would Jewel be behind the coffee shop?

I get my answer immediately when I see a bag of trash sitting just next to the dumpster and two men cornering her.

My hands curl up into fists so hard I feel the tips of my fingers digging into my palms. My stance widens and my nostrils flare.

“Get the fuck away from her,” I snarl.

“Just having a little fun, buddy,” one of the men laughs, not taking his attention from Jewel. “Why don’t you run along and mind your own business.”

At that moment I hear the click of a switchblade knife springing out as the other man laughs hysterically like a hyena.

“Fun time’s over,” I say, taking off toward the man with the knife like I’ve been shot out of a cannon. Before he can even turn his body to square up to me I tackle him hard, my hand grabbing his wrist and pushing his hand up and back as his back slams into the cold concrete and the knife goes flying.

I slam my elbow into his face in rapid succession until his head goes limp, bouncing off the alley like a basketball.

Jumping to my feet I see the other man standing back, holding his hands in the air in surrender.

“I didn’t see how big you was, mister. Didn’t mean any harm.”

“Oh, you meant a lot of harm, to her,” I counter, smelling the fear in the air even without looking in Jewel’s direction. I’m not taking my eyes off this bastard until retribution is delivered.

“He touch you, Jewel?” I say through grit teeth.

“No.”

“Not even a finger?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see her shaking her head.

“Then I just might let him live.”

“Listen, buddy. We just got outta the slammer. We got woman problems, ya know? Just needed to blow off some steam.”

I can feel every muscle in my body flex and my blood boil. “You don’t have woman problems. You have ‘being a man’ problems. And it’s time a real man taught you how to act around a lady,” I say, charging straight at him.

His arms raise to cushion the blow but it’s too late. His body slams into the concrete wall as I grab his shirt in my hand, twisting it and easily lifting him off the ground despite his size and stature. This loser looks like he’s been doing convict conditioning non-stop in his prison cell, but he’s no match for the rage I have inside me. I’ll never tolerate violence toward women and that extends to even making a woman scared or feel uncomfortable.

“Apologize to her,” I order.

“I’m…I’m sorry, miss.”

“Like you mean it, prick,” I grunt.

“I’m sorry. I really am.”

Tags: Lena Little Yes, Daddy Erotic
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