Protector Daddy (MC Daddies 3)

She wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

“No putting yourself down. No lying. Communication is important. There’s something you don’t want, that scares you, if you’re hurt, then you need to tell me or say your safeword. What do you want your safeword to be?”

“Um, how about sausage?”

His eyes widened. “Sausage?”

“Yeah, is that a bad safeword?”

“It’s just, uh, why sausage?”

For the first time since meeting him, which admittedly, wasn’t that long ago, he seemed almost flummoxed.

“Well, Mr. Fluffy is currently chewing on one of his sausage toys so I thought . . . “ she trailed off as something occurred to her. “Oh no, I didn’t mean your sausage, I wasn’t thinking of that when I said it. I mean, I don’t think of your . . . your . . . you know, anytime you want to stop me from talking right now that would be awesome – eek!” she cried out as he reached over and plucked her from the bed, placing her on his lap. “Guess that works. Maybe I need a new safeword, I’m not sure that one will …umm.”

This time he stopped her by placing his mouth against hers. She froze. It felt so nice. His lips were warm. Firm but gentle.

>

Thank goodness she’d brushed her teeth when she’d gotten up to pee earlier. Wouldn’t pay . . . to . . . umm . . .okay bye-bye thoughts.

His tongue slid into her mouth, dancing against hers. She wrapped her hands around his biceps as he ravaged her mouth. Something firm and definitely not at all sausage-like pressed against her hip. At least, it wasn’t like any sausage she’d ever eaten.

Oh hell. Now she was thinking about eating him.

He grasped hold of her chin, pulling it down so her mouth opened further. Then there was nothing but him. His taste. His touch. His smell.

More. She wanted more. She wiggled on his lap, trying to get closer, letting out a pained cry when he drew back from her.

“Easy, baby.”

“Noo,” she cried, reaching up to place her hand around the back of his neck.

“Got to slow down.”

“Why?” she wailed.

“Because if we go any further then I’m going to end up fucking you right now.”

“And that would be bad because . . .”

“You’re still recovering from a migraine. You’re pale. You need food, drink and rest. Also want to know that you’re really sure. Once you’re in my bed, you’re not leaving for a long while.”

Until this supposed threat to her was gone and he kicked her out, he meant.

Shoot. No point in thinking about that now.

“I know what I want,” she told him.

“Good. So do I. That doesn’t mean you’re not resting today.”

She pouted as he placed her back on the bed. He tapped her lower lip. “What have I told you about that?”

She huffed out a breath. “If you kissed me, I wouldn’t pout.”

“Ultimatums don’t work on me either,” he warned. “Maybe I need to make no pouting a rule.”

“I don’t think so,” she said hastily.