Daddy's Adorable Assassin (Daddy's Little Deviants)
The way he gazed at me trustingly sent warm tingles in the center of my chest. I sprinkled just a bit of pepper on the pizza. If he liked it and wanted more, he could add it.
I’d protect him with my last breath.
“Daddy, you aren’t eating. Is your pizza no good?”
I startled. I’d been watching him so intently I hadn’t realized I hadn’t touched my pizza.
“Just thinking.” I took a bite out of my pizza and moaned.
“Yours has meat on it, right?”
“Yes, it’s called meat lover’s. Do you want to taste it?”
“I can?”
“Here.” I placed a slice on his plate, and he took a bite, then another until he’d eaten it all.
“Oh, my. That tastes so good.”
“Want more?”
He ate two more slices of my pizza, then devoured another of his. Then he drained his lemonade and rocked back in his chair. “I’ve never eaten so much before that my pants feel tight. I may need my waist trainer when I get home.”
“A what?”
“A waist trainer. It gives me a good figure and keeps my waist all tiny. Didn’t you get any of my things from the farmhouse?”
“I’m sorry, Cosmo. It didn’t occur to me that you would have wanted any of your stuff. We can get them tomorrow, or we can buy new things for you.”
“But I don’t have any money.”
“That’s for me to worry about. I’m not rich by any means, so if you’re looking for a sugar daddy, I won’t qualify, but I can take care of you.”
He gave me the sweetest smile. “I don’t need a sugar daddy. I love pretty things, but I love a nice Daddy who cares about me more.”
Damn, he was sweet. If I wasn’t careful, I would melt like the butter he’d applied to his bread.“Do you want dessert?”
“Yes, please.”
He was so polite. I didn’t have any, but he wolfed down a brownie square and got his fingers and face full of chocolate.
“Come here.”
He leaned forward, and I wiped the chocolate off. His skin was smooth and soft. Not a single freckle dotted his skin.
“Am I chocolate-free now?” he asked when I released his face.
“Yes, you are.”
I paid our bill, and we brought the rest of the pizza with us. He hugged both boxes in his lap and detailed his plans to eat all the slices later if he got hungry again.
“So you liked it?”
“I really did. What else is there to try?”
We spent the ride to my house chatting about food. Apart from some chocolate candy he claimed Virgil had given him sometimes if he was good, they didn’t seem to have indulged him with food. He’d never had ice cream and could only remember having cake once.
“I know what cake looks like,” he said. “Mother baked all the time, but it was just for her and Virgil. They never allowed me to have a piece. The one time I convinced Virgil to give me some, Mother punished me. I never asked for cake again.”