Yes Daddy

Me: I’ll see you in fifteen minutes. Your friend should go home and sleep once I arrive, I’ll take over.

Esme: Hmmm okay but really it’s not necessary.

Me: It is. I’m driving now. See you soon.

Soon, I’m outside her apartment door. I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself and tame my hard-on but failing completely. I knock, and a moment later I hear three locks clicking back. My teeth grind at the thought that she lives somewhere she doesn’t feel safe. That’s going to change.

When she opens the door, I’m immediately in awe of her innocent, sexy beauty. Her hair is loose around her fresh face, and her red lips turn upward, her blue eyes sparkling.

“Yes?” She opens the door just enough to poke her face out. “I already bought my Girl Scout cookies this year.” Her tone is playful—I see the little girl inside her more than yesterday, and it makes my heart leap.

“I like to hear you say yes. I want you to say yes to a lot more.”

Her eyes widen. “Is that so?”

“Yes.” I smile as she pulls the door back, letting me inside. I look over and see her friend sitting up on the couch, looking half asleep.

“You remember Karen,” she says, and we nod at each other.

“You can go.” I look at her friend. “I’ll stay with her now.”

As grateful as I was that she came to look after Esme, I just want her to leave so the two of us can be alone. The last few hours away from her only solidified for me that there is something big going on here and I need to push things forward.

“Uhhh…” Her friend looks from me to Esme. “You okay?”

“Yes,” Esme replies, her eyes dancing up and down on me, then back to her friend. “You need to sleep. Thanks for coming over.”

The girls finish up some chitchat, giving me sidelong glances as they do, and I wander over to the window, noticing she has no curtains and there is an apartment building across the way. Literally anyone could look over and see her.

Irrational anger heats inside me at the thought that someone has the ability to watch her. See her walking around. I don’t want anyone else looking at her.

She and her friend say their goodbyes, then she comes over and sits cross-legged on the sofa.

I step to where she is, reaching down and pushing her hair back to reveal the bump on her head.

“It’s not hurting?”

“No.” She looks up at me, and all I can think of is getting her on her knees, looking down into those eyes with my cock in her mouth. “I feel good.”

“Good. Did you take the Tylenol?”

“No. It wasn’t hurting.”

“That’s a relief.”

We’re alone, and it’s a struggle to stay in control. My cock is so hard it’s aching as she fidgets on the couch, her blonde hair shining in the sun streaming through the window, and her nipples are poking through the fabric of the Star Trek shirt, only now she’s also wearing a loose pair of blue jean shorts.

She looks like an innocent lamb again, sitting there with me towering over her, but she doesn’t look scared. She looks hopeful.

“Can I get you anything?” she finally asks.

“Yes.” I swallow hard and choose my words carefully. “You will get me many things. Right now, I want you to tell me what happened last night. Why you were out in the street, running.”

“I told you. I met someone for a drink, and it just didn’t go that great.” She smiles and pushes a lock of hair behind her ear, but I know she’s lying.

And there’s a rage building inside of me at that thought because I suspect someone hurt her. Or tried to hurt her.

“Bambina, I want you to listen to me.” I reach down and take her hands, crouching to bring our faces level. “I believe that for some reason, maybe divine intervention, you were thrown into my life last night. I feel it. But for me to be the best I can be for you, you need to tell me the truth. Always. Can you do that for me?”

She chews on her bottom lip as I feel the softness of her tiny hands in mine. I want to discover every inch of her stunning curves, every crease and mark and the stories behind them all.

She opens her mouth like she’s going to answer, but instead she blows out a warm breath, and its sweet scent hits my nose, making me think of pressing my face between her legs and breathing her in.

When she finally speaks, her voice is tentative. “I mean, sure. Yes, but we barely know each other. You’re not responsible for my problems.” Her tone has turned a bit harsh, but I see through the tough act.