Possessive Daddy Next Door

“They’re just part of the scenery when you’re a kid, you know? They’re just the tough guys that hang around. They don’t bother little kids and you don’t bother them, so you’re fine. But as I got older, I saw the shit they did… the drugs, the prostitution… the human trafficking.”

“Human trafficking?” She sounds shocked. “Really?”

“Bought girls in from ex-Soviet countries, promised them a better life, you know? Sold them on this dream of whoring around for a couple years to earn enough to do whatever they wanted in America, land of the free. It was a crock of shit. So many of those girls ended up addicts or dead, usually both.”

“That’s horrible.”

“That’s why I went undercover.” I sigh and turn over, standing up. “It wasn’t all bad. There were these kids that sold bean pies in the middle of Broad Street. Muslim kids, dressed in really nice suits. Nice kids, always quick to smile, made good pies too.”

She makes a face. “Bean pies?”

“It’s not what it sounds like. I mean, yeah, it’s made from beans, but it’s got tons of sugar and eggs and milk and butter. It’s actually a lot like pumpkin pie, at least it’s that consistency.”

“Huh.” She gives me a skeptical look. “Think I’d like it?”

“Hell fucking no.” I laugh and splash her. She grins and comes at me again. I catch her by the hips and lift her out of the water. I smack her ass and throw her again.

She swims away from me, eyeing me warily. “It sounds like you had more fun as a kid than I did.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I spent my whole childhood either terrified of my parents or at some boarding school.”

“That’s not so bad. You got a good education.”

“True.” She sighs. “Best of the best for the Lofthouse family, even the girls. We had nannies too, but they were more like babysitters. Mom was always around, always watching what we were doing. The boys got in trouble, but Lora and I had to be… better, I guess.”

“That’s hard. I can tell your mom had high expectations for you.”

“For all of us. It was worse for the boys in some ways. I mean, they were expected to continue the family line. I was just expected to marry rich and make babies.”

I lean up against the wall of the pool and kick my legs out, floating to the top. I watch her as she swims backwards in slow circles.

“How long do you want to be home for?” I ask.

She looks at me and makes a face. “Not you, too.”

“I’m just curious, is all. You seem so driven and motivated and independent… but you’re here.”

“Look, my store hurt me, okay? I’m trying to figure out what I want to do next.”

I nod. “I get that. I really do.” I swim over to her and pull her against me. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“I bet you are.”

I kiss her gently. “The longer you’re here, the more I get to do this.” I kiss her again and cup her breasts then move my hands down to her ass. “The more I get to touch you, tease you. Make you feel good.”

“Is that all you get to do?”

“That’s all I want to do.” I purr into her ear as I kiss her neck. “You know I think about your tight, delicious little pussy every night.”

“I’m right next door.”

“I know. And I’m going to take advantage of that. Take you… the way I want to.”

“How’s that?”

I bite her lower lip and squeeze her ass hard, pushing her against me. “Sound travels in this old house. So you’ll have to be quiet.”

“I can do that.”

“Can you?” I put my hand over her mouth. “I can gag you. Tie you up. Make it so you can’t move a muscle, can’t make a sound. I’ll be free to use you… take you how I want. Slide my thick cock between your legs until you moan for more. Tell me you want it.”

She nods, my hand over her mouth. She bites my finger, but not hard, and I pull my hand away.

“You’re a bastard,” she whispers. “You know that? You can’t do this to me.”

“I can, my Delia. I absolutely can.”

I want to kiss her again, but I hear a noise. It’s footsteps in the hallway outside. We move apart quickly, get to a respectful distance.

I expect her sister or mother to appear, but instead Patricks steps through the door. He frowns at the two of us and something passes over his face briefly. He looks at us for a long moment.

“I have to say, it’s strange to see an employee swimming in this pool.”

“Life is full of surprises,” I say.

He doesn’t smile. “Yes, well. This family sure is.”

“What can I do for you, Patricks?” Delia asks.

“Nothing,” he says. “I’d like to speak with him.”