Kiss Me Goodnight (Love, Daddy 4)

Female. Portland, Oregon. Three arrests, all for petty theft. What caught my eye was what she had stolen.

First offense was for stealing a stuffed sloth toy from some swanky gift shop.

Second offense was for lifting three of those candy necklaces from a drugstore.

Third, and this one still has me shaking my head, a package of adult diapers.

Since we’ve been spending time together, I found out the story on that last one.

Turns out a care worker for an older woman in a previous apartment building mention

ed them to Lexi and also mentioned the woman’s monthly check hadn’t arrived, so she wouldn’t have the money to buy them until it came. Lexi had balls enough to stuff a package of them under her T-shirt at the grocery store and try to pretend she was pregnant and walk out. When I asked her about it, she said she’d had four dollars, but when she got to the store, she saw they were far more expensive than what she thought, and no way was she letting the poor woman go without until her check came.

My program helps give current or former foster kids now on probation a mentor. Someone to count on. Someone to help keep track of their employment. Secure, decent housing for them. Give them a new vision of what their lives could be.

But it’s not my financial investment or merely checking up on my sponsorship that brings me here; that’s just the pretense under which I sit here in the center of this chaos twice a week.

No, I consider her my investment. My most precious one ever. I want to invest my knowledge. My wisdom. My care. My everything. I want to invest my very soul.

In her.

And I want to invest copious amounts of time with my mouth on her pussy. And with her pussy taking my cock.

That pussy was made to be mine.

I’ve known it since the first moment I laid eyes on her. Her pussy exists solely for my pleasure. And the rest of her exists to be under my care. To receive my love.

I’m just not sure she will understand the enormity of what that means. So, here I sit. For the sixteenth time since I first saw her. Ordering a triple espresso and pie-sized cinnamon roll, contemplating how she will ever understand who I am to her.

Who we were meant to be together.

I watch her through the window of her studio apartment, watch her coming and going, watch her bringing in her groceries, or just taking out her fucking trash.

I rented a place directly across from hers for the sole purpose of watching her. I also bought a house. That same day. Cash on the spot because something in my gut told me someday this would be home.

That’s how fucking gone I am over this girl.

Is that wrong? Maybe. Am I a sick fuck for watching her like I do?

Probably.

But truth is, I don’t know what the fuck to do with all these feelings. I’ve never felt anything like this before.

For all my success, I’ve lived in an emotional safe zone since as far back as I can remember. A place where I have never cared enough for someone to risk the pain of losing them. The risk versus reward just never seemed like a good investment for me.

Until now.

I’m sure I’ll fuck it up. I’m terrified I’ll fuck it up. That’s why I’ve been planning so carefully. Since that first day. I’ve been planning.

Hoping if I can control it all, she’ll understand.

The rules.

It’s how I’ll love her. Control her. Own her.

When I’m allowed the luxury of being away from my corporate office in Manhattan, it’s here I come.

To Portland.