Angel (Love, Daddy 1)

And today, fire shoots up and down my spine when his full lips turn upward at the corners as I settle on the other side of the counter; his slightly crooked smile always looks a bit out of place, like he doesn’t smile often enough. It pulls at his lips and reveals just a hint of white teeth. They’re not perfectly straight, nor is his nose for that matter and

I like that. I think his rough imperfections are exactly what makes him perfect.

“These are for you.” He slides two bottles of wine toward me. “Did you enjoy the last two? The Bordeaux was from a particularly good year. Good Bordeaux is hard to come by these days.” His voice rumbles out like a train from a tunnel, sweeping me along with its momentum so that I feel like I have to say something.

“Yes, it was...a good year,” I mumble like an imbecile.

What the hell do I know about Bordeaux and years? Nothing, that’s what. If you ask me about strawberry-flavored milk or what kinds of sprinkles taste best on top of a hot fudge sundae, then I’m your girl.

Blood rushes in my ears as I try to follow up with something less idiotic. “It was smooth.”

What the heck? Smooth? I give up.

I drop my eyes to the table and start to measure the dimensions on the stack of posters, scribbling the numbers on the order forms. My face is so hot it’s about to go super nova, and I think my nipples just stabbed right through the fabric of my blouse.

Chapter Three

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MAGNUS

She sees me as a monster. I can tell by the way her fingers shake and she tugs at her skirt whenever she waits on me.

Because in a way I am. A monster that is.

What’s the weather like up there?

You beat up any grizzlies lately?

What’s it like to lift a small car over your head?

The funny thing about the jokes is, the people who make them seem to think they are so very original. Like they’re the first one to every make a joke about my size.

I’m sure if my IQ were displayed on my forehead, that wouldn’t be such a joke.

Seems having a high IQ isn’t as funny as having strikingly dominant physical features.

Humans baffle me.

She definitely baffles me. But in a good way. And the way she smells is unlike anything I’ve experienced before. Like purity and softness with a hint of cherry on top.

And that’s one cherry I wish I could taste.

Maybe I am part bear like my mother had always said, because when I catch her scent a fury claws inside me. A raging, spitting, snarling urge to consume her. To protect her and show her the ways I would love her. Ways that make me think of things I’d never thought of before.

At the same time, I’m afraid I would break her. My cock would break her. My past would break her. She’s so soft and I’m so hard.

My love would break her.

But then I would fix her.

Because I want that, too. I want to break her and then be the one that puts her back together. I can see it – this, us. Her coming to me. Asking me my advice, guiding her in this world, making sure she’s safe, but then wanting everything good for her when she goes out to be successful without me. I don’t know what this is that she’s shaken loose inside me, but it’s dark and perverse, and it only makes me think I may truly be a monster.

Not to mention, my face won’t grace the cover of GQ anytime soon. I’m no pretty boy. A beauty like her would never want a Neaderthal like me. Besides, I my size and my crooked features weren’t enough to drive her away, I’m too old for her.

I clear my throat and shake my legs out. Those thoughts are driving gallons of blood into my dick, and the last thing I want is to really scare her.

So I settle for just hovering around her, coming in here on the pretense of getting my posters framed. But sooner or later I’m going to run out of posters. And then I’m not sure what I’ll do, because I can’t imagine not having her in my life.