Page 95 of Merciless Daddy

I stayed seated because standing would have put us too close.

“You’re learning whether I’ll feed you when you don’t offer me your body afterward.”

Her expression sharpened.

“If I let you use Little space as the road to my bed now, you may never believe the care was free.”

“I didn’t say I owed you.”

“No. But somebody taught you everything comes with a price.”

She looked away.

I kept my voice low.

“I want you. That isn’t in question,” I said, calmly.

“It feels questionable from here.”

“My cock was under you thirty seconds ago. Hard as a fucking rock. Do not insult both of us.”

Her mouth twitched despite herself.

“I need you to know I can tuck you into bed, praise you, feed you, hold you while you cry, and never collect.”

“Collect,” she repeated. “Daddy, I’m begging you to collect.”

“That is how men have treated care around you. As credit.”

She folded her arms.

“You make refusing me sound righteous.”

“It’s not righteous. It’s torture.”

“Good.”

“Yes. You’ve mentioned your position.”

She looked at me for a long moment.

Then some of the sharpness left her shoulders.

“Will you read to me tonight?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“The firebird?”

“If you get ready for bed without further attempts on my virtue.”

“You don’t have any virtue—you’re a gangster.”

“Then stop attempting whatever remains.”

This time her laugh came quickly.

She walked to the door, paused, and glanced back.