Page 50 of Merciless Daddy

I stayed where I was. She stopped on the other side of the island, close enough that I could smell sleep-warm skin and the faint soap from the bathroom.

“You want me,” she said. “I know you want me. You can’t deny it. Don’t even try.”

“Of course I want you.”

The blunt answer made her blink.

I continued before either of us could mistake honesty for permission.

“I want you badly enough that I will not trust myself with convenient reasoning. Your brother is under guard. You have no safe home. Your money and travel documents came through my people. If I touch you now, every yes comes with those facts standing behind it.”

“And if I climb over this counter and kiss you again?”

“I’ll put you down.”

Her lips parted.

“Gently,” I added.

Heat entered her eyes. Pale grey turning bright.

“You’re frightened of me,” she said.

“No.”

“I think you are.”

“I’m frightened of wanting more than I have any right to take.”

The teasing left her face.

For one unguarded moment, she looked younger. Not childish. Simply tired. A woman who had expected another man to deny wanting anything except possession and had instead been handed an answer she did not know where to put.

Then she recovered.

“Very dramatic,” she said.

“I haven’t slept.”

“Because of me?”

“Yes. Because of the kiss.”

Her fingers curled against the edge of the counter. Her gaze dropped to my mouth. I watched her remember it. I felt the memory in my own body, immediate and brutal.

She wet her lower lip.

Deliberately.

“Then I hope tonight is worse,” she said. “I hope you think about sliding your hard cock into my tight, wet little pussy. I hope you think about my lips around your tip, and me chugging down your come like the little slut I want to be for you. I hope you’re hard all night and you get no relief—none.”

She picked up the empty mug and walked out.

I remained in the kitchen with both hands flat on the marble until I could trust them again.

Ididn’t sleep that night. Not one wink.

The next morning, the house servants were in—cleaning, tidying, keeping the place going. It was peaceful, until I heard a tray hit the dining-room floor at eight-twenty and broke into enough pieces to turn six armed men toward the sound.