Always My Babygirl: A Billionaire Romance

My car drives up, ready to take me back to the airport. To leave her.

I need her alone for a little while. I need her to remember who we are. I need to show her she’s mine, that she’s my babygirl.

“Come with me, for a little while?” I ask her like it’s a question, but I’m pulling her along with insistence. Now that she’s back, I don’t ever want to let her go.

She nods. “Yes, Gabriel.” She ducks her head shyly. “Yes, daddy.”

I swallow the lump in my throat. God, it’s good to hear her say that. I didn’t know how badly I needed that.

I open the door and usher her in, joining her a moment later. I shut the door.

“Where to, sir?”

She looks at me, all wide-eyed and wondrous.

“I need to get back,” I tell her. “Will you join me?”

“As soon as I can. I’ll get Mom situated.”

I nod. “Of course. But you’ll call me, won’t you?”

It seems unfair that just when we get back together, we have to be separated. The car begins to drive me back to the jet. By the time I get to the airport, it will be prepared and fueled up. Ready to take me back to Vegas.

Her voice is soft when she asks, “Are you sure you have to go?”

I pull her to me and kiss her, the instant connection making me groan. Her hands are around my neck, and mine around her waist, and it feels so good to taste her again, my eyes close in bliss. God, this is good. So damn good.

I push a button and a dark, soundproof screen rolls up between us and the driver. We have total privacy back here and the ride to takeoff’s long enough. I lay her back on the seat, kissing my way down the column of her neck to her full, beautiful breasts. She closes her eyes and sighs.

“Daddy.”

I lean in and whisper in her ear. “I love you, Miranda. I love you so much.”

“And I love you,” she says, making my heart beat faster and my need to claim her even more insistent. Her eyes hold mine as I shimmy her dress up her thighs. I feel cotton panties covering her, my low growl of disapproval filling the leather interior.

“Who gave you permission to wear those?”

She bites her lip—oh God, to see her do that again—and gives me a coy look. “I gave myself permission.”

I cluck my tongue, right her dress, and tug her over my lap. She squeals and giggles even as she protests, but when I position her with my hand on her lower back, she wriggles like a little puppy.

I smack her ass good and hard. “That’s for fighting daddy,” I say, with a teasing lecture in my tone. I part her legs, shove the panties aside, and finger her hot, slick entrance.

“Oh fuck,” she moans, parting her legs even further.

I remove my hand just long enough to spank her again. She bucks and squeals, but a second later, she’s moaning as I stroke my fingers to her core again, pausing only long enough to circle her clit.

“That’s my girl,” I whisper in her ear. “Take daddy’s fingers, baby. Let yourself go.”

The car cruises on as she wriggles her hips and I stroke her clit. I bend down, nibbling her ear as I finger her, until she’s moaning, on the cusp of release.

“Come for daddy, baby,” I coax, and it’s all that she needs. Moments later she’s moaning and whimpering, writhing against my hand as her powerful climax overtakes her. I milk every spasm, wringing it out of her, and before she’s done coming, I lay her on the plush leather seat beside me.

“Spread those legs,” I order, as I unzip myself and take my cock out.

She obeys, her eyes sex-sated and lust-filled as I glide my cock between her legs. She’s so hot, so wet, and I groan when I tease the tip of my cock over her clit. She whimpers and moans, until I glide myself into her tight, hot pussy.

“Fucckkk,” I groan, as the walls of her pussy clench around me. “Jesus, baby.”

I lower myself over her, working a rhythm that makes her moan and gasp, her eyelids fluttering closed with the thrust of my hips. Her pussy welcomes my cock, her body begging for more with every stroke.

“Miranda,” I groan. “You feel so good, baby.”

She whimpers, but smiles, her hips rising to meet me as I thrust. “Take it, daddy. I want you.” There’s a catch in her throat and tears in her eyes as she whispers. “I want us, again. Together.”

I stroke again and again, every movement bringing us closer together, reuniting us. I welcome her little moans and squeals of pleasure.

“So fucking good,” I groan. This is what we needed, right here, this reconnection. “My baby needs to come again. Can you come again for daddy, baby?”