The tightness in my chest returns as she smiles, the hint of her white teeth nipping her bottom lip as her dark lashes flutter. Thoughts of how I want to claim her, ruin her, make her filthy with me, own her in ways that are probably illegal make my temples pound as my balls twitch ready to heave.
I run my hand down my face as she turns to look at me with those angel eyes, and thoughts of eating her pussy until she creams on my face about a thousand times make my mouth water as I drop my head back, hearing the vertebrae in my neck cracking from the tension.
“Are you okay?”
No, I’m fucking not. I’m a glutton for punishment. Letting you stay here without Carter or Arianna, what was I thinking? I can’t have you. I shouldn’t want you.
But, fuck, I can’t not have you either.
“Yes,” I answer, hissing the lie through my teeth. “I need to get out of these pants.”
My hand is still on her neck, like I’m some sort of fucking madman, but her eyes are full of wonder, innocence. It’s like my hand is welded to her, I can’t find the will to pull it away.
“I’m not sure how much you saw at the dock…” Her pink lips move as I count her eyelashes, wanting to memorize every one. “But, can we not tell Carter? About it all.”
“I heard him asking for you to show him something…then I saw you punch him. Landed the perfect throat chop.”
Made me want you even more. Made my dick turn into a goddamn heat-seeking missile locked on your sweet pussy.
I want her to know I’m proud as fuck that she can defend herself, but I also want her to know that from now on, that’s my job. I exist as her guard against all things hurtful to her. Emotionally, physically, mentally. I will always be there. Out in front or watching from the shadows when she needs to spread her wings.
But I will always be there, whether she knows it or not.
“There something more to it?” I ask and with a deep breath, she explains her online alter ego and I’m proud and protective at the same time.
“Yeah. The whole TikTok, Insta, Tutu thing…” She crinkles her nose. “It’s like part of me that’s been pushed down so long. First my mom was so controlling, with pushing me to dance and be this perfect version of the prima ballerina daughter. Then Carter, who I love and appreciate, but dang, I just traded one overlord for another.”
I’ll be your last, I want to say, but that’s not what she needs to hear right now. Conflict burns in my gut. I want to claim her with a violent fuck over the back of the sofa then curl her into my lap, kissing the side of her face and letting her know Daddy will always be here for her.
Daddy.
“I know they love me…” She starts and I see the little girl in her eyes. The one that wants to be loved but understood too. The one that needs a champion just for her. Someone to be the shield between her and the world while also being the strong hands that hold her up, push her to be her best and believe in her more than she believes in herself. She shrugs. “I guess, maybe it’s me. I never had a Daddy…” She stops short along with my heart. Her cheeks turn bright red as she stammers… “I mean, a dad. I never had a dad. Father. Whatever. You know, Daddy issues like they say.”
Her hands flutter in frustration around her neck as she sucks in a trembling breath.
“You’re right,” I grit out, turning her toward me, my hand on the back of her neck running down between her shoulder blades, feeling the bumps of her spine, swallowing hard in the knowledge of how she’s denied herself the basic right to food just to please other people. “You’ve never had a father. But, you’ve also never had a Daddy. They are very different things.”
I see the flush on her cheeks creep down her neck and bloom on her chest. She freezes. I’ve gone too far. Scared her just like I knew I fucking would.
“Fuck.” I seethe, pulling my hand back, even though the loss of contact feels like a punch in the gut.
I’m sure it’s fear I see in her eyes. The same eyes that have lit up my world since the second I met her. She’s my perfect babygirl and I’m going to lose her before we even get started.
“I—” she starts, but I don’t want her more uncomfortable than I’ve already made things, so I shake my head, feeling like a knife is jabbing in my chest as I step back.