The Kingpin's Weakness

My coffee boils in my stomach. “Yes. It has to be.”

* * *

Eventually my chef arrives to make breakfast.

From her perch on my knee, Scout makes a list of items she needs from her apartment and I relay it to my security team. One of them is sent to purchase her a variety of bathing suits and they return with several options within the hour. Now I stand in my bedroom with a cock made of steel, watching her try them on in the full-length mirror.

Every time she looks at one of the price tags, she frowns over her shoulder in my direction and it makes me fantasize about all the ways I would spoil her rotten, if I was able to keep her forever. Just to get that cute little frown of reproach. I’d build her a science lab to start, because it’s obvious that conducting experiments makes her happy.

Fuck it. Whether I can keep her or not, I’ll do it anyway.

I’ll help her be successful. Keep tabs on her grades, her career.

Crave her from a distance…

Are you deluded? You’ll never be able to stay away.

Determinedly, I tune out the voice in the back of my head, clearing my throat hard enough to bring Scout’s head up. “Try the blue one. It matches your eyes.”

She chews her lip. “Oh, but it…it doesn’t cover the butt. Like, at all.”

I raise an eyebrow.

Scout strips out of the black bikini she’s been trying and I grind my teeth together. God almighty, the ass on this girl. I could take a fucking bite out of it. When she realized I was going to observe as she tried on bathing suits, her entire body flushed, but she’s growing more and more confident. How could she not be when I’m tenting the front of my sweatpants, groaning in appreciation every time she fits the little triangles over her tits?

I’m not going to make it much longer without squeezing my cock into the tight hole between her legs, but I’m trying to make up for being an animal last night.

The royal-blue thong bikini is the clear winner.

Not only because it frames her ass like the work of art it is, but there are gold embellishments between her tits and resting on her hips. And I like her looking expensive. I like her looking like Daddy spoiled her.

Like she’s done every time, she checks the price tag and gasps. “I-is this accurate?” She stares at the bathing suit in the mirror. “Is the gold real?”

“You think I’d put you in fake gold, cutie?”

Without waiting for her to answer, I strip out of my sweatpants and walk naked to the dresser. I can feel her attention fastened to my hard cock as I search for my swim trunks. So I take my time putting them on, making eye contact with her when I fist my dick and position it as comfortably as possible inside the nylon.

“You ready to go to the beach?”

“The where?” she asks, sounding dazed.

* * *

On the way down the stairs to the beach, Scout takes her scheduled phone call with her sister. “Me?” she squeaks into the receiver of my phone. “Are you okay? The Madman himself carried you out of the arena after giving Banner a concussion and no one has seen you since!”

She pauses, frowns.

“It can be about you sometimes, Whit.”

There is a break in the crashing waves and though it’s faint, I can hear her sister’s next question come down the line. “Has he hurt you?”

My gut twists. Of course the sister would be worried. Scout is holed up with the devil.

But Scout answers right away, as if the very idea is preposterous and I relax. “No.”

“Are you allowed to leave?”

Scout shoots me a questioning look and I give a firm headshake.

“Hard no.”

I don’t hear the next part.

“Of course I will.” Scout sniffles. “I miss you.”

Pause.

“I had sex, Whit,” she whispers dramatically.

Jesus Christ.

I’m caught between exasperated and amused. I live in a hard world and I can’t help but be…moved by the obvious love between the sisters. Didn’t I once have something similar with my own brother? Have I hardened myself so much against getting attached that I’m caught off guard when I see this type of familial bond in front of my eyes?

When Scout hangs up the call, she seems a little lost and I don’t like it, so I tuck her into the crook of my arm. “How is she?” I ask.

“Conflicted, I think. Whitney is harder to read than me.” She presses her lips together. “She wants to see me. To make sure I’m okay. Can you arrange that?”

My jaw pops. “I’d rather not waste the time we have together.”

She stops on the bottom step, right before we reach the sand. “It wouldn’t be a waste.”

“That’s not what I meant. I just…worry you’ll want to leave early. If you see her.”