Buying Her Time (Price of Love 3)

Now, tomorrow, and forever.

She leans forward to get her Irish coffee off the tray on the ottoman. When she does, it makes her tits press against her folded calf, and press out of her thermal long-sleeve in the most ball-busting way. Honest to Jesus. She’s the sexiest woman on the planet.

Dad groans first. “Hey, Siri. Remind me to buy more of those thermal henleys for Isabel.”

“Done!” Siri chirps.

And Isabel fills the house with her wonderful giggle.

We’ve explained to her how it’s gonna go. When it’s during the football season, she will travel with me sometimes, but not at others, and that’s when she’ll stay with Dad. First and foremost, though, is that she finishes school, and we’re both going to make sure that happens. Focus. Diligence. We’ll get her there. She’ll always be safe. She’ll always be loved. No matter what.

The doorbell ringing breaks the soft silence and I catch my dad’s eye. I know what’s being delivered and so does he, but Isabel doesn’t. Not yet.

“You got that?”

“Yep,” he nods, and sets down his whiskey.

Isabel squirms a little to go with him, but I tighten my arm around her. “Stay here. No arguments.”

Her body goes soft and warm in my arms and she laughs. “Understood, Daddy.”

“Good girl,” I tell her.

And she lets out this sexy little growl that makes my cock ache.

In the background I hear Dad thanking the courier and then the door closes. I set down my whiskey now too and stand up, looking down at Isabel, all cozy and cute and fucking delicious. We spent the morning outside stacking wood and now her cheeks have a windburn blush.

“Close your eyes, baby girl.”

Dad comes in from the hallway, with a hand behind his back.

Her eyes dart to him for confirmation and he nods.

She sits up and straightens her shoulders, then closes her eyes. She places her cute little hands on her thighs. Her feet are on tiptoes in her fuzzy socks.

I glance at Dad and he takes his position next to her, opposite me. I lean forward and carefully move my hand in front of her face to see if she flinches, but she doesn’t. “Keep them closed. You hear me?”

She nods quickly. “Yes, Daddy. Yes, Papa.”

Fuck. Hearing that never gets old.

I push the leather ottoman back toward the fire and then together, Dad and I both go down on one knee, just as we’d planned.

“Open your hands,” he says.

She inhales quickly, takes a second, and follows his directions perfectly.

Dad pops open the box and the ring glints in the firelight. It’s absolutely perfect—platinum, one ruby in the middle, as big as a fucking raspberry, flanked by two big diamonds. The three of us together, with her always at the center.

He hands the box to me to check it. The jeweler had to stay up all night to get it done, but it’s perfect. Everything I’d hoped. I set it in her palm, the open side of the box facing her.

Dad glances at me and I nod. We both take a deep breath and finally he says, “Open them, sweetheart.”

Her eyes go to us first, kneeling between her. Surprise, and then delight. And then she sees the ring. “Oh. My. God.”

Her mouth drops open and for one fucking second, all I can think of is her lips on my dick. But I keep myself in the moment. Mostly.

I take the ring from the box and Dad and I both help to slip it on her finger. Perfect fit. Perfect ring. Perfect baby girl.

“Marry us,” Dad says.

“Both of us,” I add.

She pushes her lips together, looking wide-eyed and innocent now. “But…” she says, on a whisper. “Is that even legal?”

“Fuck legal,” Dad growls.

And Isabel’s eyes glisten, so happy and sweet.

“He’s right,” I reassure her.

“I know,” she whispers back.

“So is that a yes?” I ask her, feeling so fucking full of love for her that I can barely talk at all.

She lights up in a big smile, such happiness and joy, and then throws herself into both of our arms, squeezing us tight. “Yes, it’s a yes! To both of you!”

CHAPTER 12

Chapter 12

Isabel

1 Month Later

I hike up my wedding dress and bend over the hotel suite sink. Hale and Flint are both in their suits, looking so handsome and sexy in Windsor knots and pick-stitch suits. And not for the first time, I’m glad this isn’t an actual wedding because I don’t have to be actually worried about actual superstitions.

Like the grooms seeing the bride before the vows.

“Fuuuuuck,” Hale groans, unzipping his pants and letting them fall to the marble floor.

“Goddamn look at how swollen she is, Dad. Look at this perfect pussy.” Flint dips his fingers into my opening.

God, I love the way they talk to me. I love the way they touch me. I love this all so, so much.