Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 127949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
“Something new I’ve been working on.” She clears her throat, her bare toes curling on the wood, and I wish I had brought another drink with me. Maybe that would calm me the fuck down.
“I’m ready when you are.” I heave a breath. “You know nothing pleases me more than hearing you sing.”
That’s not entirely true, but making my girl feel like the center of the universe and a queen is the central focus of my entire being. Plus, if I told her what pleases me more, she might take out a restraining order.
The first note takes solid aim at my balls, then by the time I figure out what song she’s singing, the chorus cocks back and delivers another shot directly to my heart.
The incessant ache in my chest and between my legs intensifies. God, she’s the most beautiful woman to ever walk the earth. When she sings, her whole being changes. She’s no longer the questioning, somewhat off-balance, insecure girl that hides her mouth when she chews and came home crying so many fucking times from school from the teasing.
She walks on water when she’s behind the microphone. She shines like a million supernovas. Her eyes settle into sultry slits as she sways and locks them on mine.
We’re no longer the two people who have been walking around like father and daughter all these years. We are lust and awakening and fire.
As she winds down into the last verse, then the chorus, my dick is at full battle-ready length again, and her nipples are back to poking through the now-damp fabric of her shirt, longer and more pronounced than they were earlier.
She’s the sweetest, most magnificent creature, and there’s no more control left in me.
We are here, alone, for at least a week, according to the flight I booked for Catrina. I don’t need to go into the office, I have employees who can fucking handle things, and Winona’s classes are on break for another ten days.
I’m on my feet before she hits the last note, her lips breaking into a smile that reminds me of how she must see me. The man who’s always been there for her, the man who stepped in when her father died.
But not the man that wants to stuff his tongue in her cunt while she begs for Daddy to lick her good and clean.
“You liked it?” She jumps up and down, clapping as she bounces down the three steps from the stage onto the gold-and-jewel-toned carpet as I stand waiting, welcoming her next to me with one arm out, the other hand at my side, my spunk still clutched in my palm.
“Like isn’t the word I would use. Fucking life changing, baby. The world doesn’t deserve something as beautiful as you, first of all, then you add that voice...” I shake my head as her arms slide around my midsection and squeeze.
“Stop. You always exaggerate.”
I press my lips to the top of her head, inhaling her. Taking her in. Her black hair is scented with the peach and jasmine shampoo I have formulated just for her from a custom hair care company in Brazil.
“No exaggeration, baby. Just honest truth.”
Her softness presses against my side as that familiar pounding intensifies down low in my groin. I smooth her hair with my free hand as she raises her chin and meets my eyes.
The same eyes that looked at me with wide wonder as I read her the entire Lord of the Rings books after tucking her into bed at night, wiping away her tears as she grieved for her father, and my heart broke that my best friend would not be around to walk her down the aisle.
A few years later, it was me thinking about her walking down the aisle. Only, it was me at the other end waiting for her, too. No doubt my best friend would put a bullet between my eyes if he got wind of the things I imagine when I think of her now.
She shifts back, and for a second, I’m grateful for the space, because I’m two seconds from tearing those little yoga shorts off her ass and stuffing her full of all ten inches of Daddy’s grade-A beef stick.
I fight but fail to keep my eyes off her tits, those long, thick nipples making my breath catch and my mouth water as she takes her own deep breath on a tight smile, her hands tugging at the hem of her shirt as a long, tense silence stretches between us.
Her eyes drift down, and there’s no fucking way she doesn’t see the massive hard-on that’s tenting my jeans. She blinks, eyes flicking here and there before finally landing on my clenched left hand.
Fire sears over my skin as she reaches out before I can tug it away. “Is something wrong with your hand? Why are you holding it like that?”