Daddy's Dishonest Little Girl (Wounded Daddies 1)

I glance at my phone. I have at least an hour and a half before Paul returns. Ten minutes later, I am crying out as an orgasm filled with images from the book shoots through me. My mind is full of images of that kneeling girl in the first picture and, of course, the man, whose name escapes my lips as I holler.

“Paul! Paul!” I cry as pleasure courses through me.

“Coming!” I hear from inside, and then the sliding glass door opens. I jerk my hand away from my bikini and roll over. I must be bright red, I know.

He looks at me and says, “Hi.”

“I… I just noticed you home. I got, uh, startled, but then saw it was you.”

“Yeah, I was halfway there and got call from the hardware store. The parts for the air conditioner won’t be in until tomorrow. Sorry I... uh, scared you.”

Dear God! He had to have seen me. I think he’s blushing.

“I’m fine now,” I say as I stand up and hurry past him. “But I forgot I have to make a phone call!”

I rush to my room and as soon as the door closes, I realize with horror that I left my phone out on the lounge chair. I walk back slowly, about as embarrassed as a person can be, but I don’t see him, either on my way to the chair or on my way back.

I feel as if I might have disappeared into nothing!