Page 112 of The Daddy’s Girl

It’s not fair. But it’s the truth.

“Fuck it,” he mutters before tugging me closer. I smile brightly as I nuzzle up to him, letting him be the big spoon behind me.

The unspoken thing between us now isn’t a question of if they will find out but when. Because I think we’ve both accepted that this is real and it’s not going away.

But that’s as far as my tired brain gets before sleep finally takes me.

My eyes peel open as the sunlight blazes through the French doors that lead to my balcony. The bed beside me is empty, and I melt into the pillows with a sense of sadness.

He left.

Of course, he had to eventually. I wouldn’t expect him to just lie here, a prisoner in my bedroom.

Picking up my phone, I check the time.

Eleven thirty.

I miss him already. So I open our text thread and start typing out a good morning message when the sound of the toilet flushing in the attached bathroom has my head snapping up.

A few moments later, Matis opens the door to my room and walks in while still drying his hands on the towel. My face stretches with a smile at the sight of him.

“Good morning,” he says, a bit too loudly.

I glance with alarm at the bedroom door, noticing that it’s unlocked again.

“It’s okay,” he says casually. “Ronan took your mom out to breakfast.”

My brows furrow. “How do you know that? Did you have coffee with them?”

He chuckles. “Instagram. Your mom posts everything.”

It’s true. She does. I can practically see the photo my father has probably taken of her at some café in the city. She’ll look stunning and perfect as usual, no filter required.

“So that means…we have the house to ourselves?” I ask with a coy smile.

Matis grins wickedly as he comes closer to the bed. “Not for long. Her last post was over an hour ago.”

When he begins crawling toward me, I slam my hand over my mouth. “Wait. No.”

He laughs again. “What?”

“I need to brush my teeth and clean up a little.”

He grabs my legs and yanks me toward him. “You don’t need to do anything, mon trésor.”

I squeal with laughter as I try to get away from him. With amusement, he tickles up my sides and starts peppering kisses up my body. I shriek in horror, afraid of how I might smell after a night of sweaty sex. But he certainly doesn’t seem to care.

“Matis Moreau, if you don’t let me shower, I swear I’ll… I’ll…”

My fight dies as he closes his lips around my breast and his fingers slip through my slick folds. He sinks a finger deep inside me, and I lose the ability to care about anything other than this pleasure.

Not even when he kisses me deeply and grinds his hard cock against my thigh.

“I want all of you, Trouble. Every beautiful, imperfect, smelly little bit.”

I let out a cry of pleasure as he hooks his finger and works his palm on my clit. Reaching into his briefs, I find his cock and begin to stroke him. He moans with his lips on my neck.

We’re not exactly loud, mostly because I’m not sure if the house staff is downstairs today, and I wouldn’t hear my parents come in if they did return. But it is nice to at least be able to make some noise as he serves me an earth-shattering orgasm breakfast.