Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 26344 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 132(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26344 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 132(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
Joey is still around as well. He’s still her driver whenever I’m not around. One of the few people I trust to be with her without me.
Paranoid? Maybe.
Rose was good to her for a while, then I secretly found out they were putting her on a diet. Throwing out these little digs at her about her weight. I shut that shit down fast, and I’ve been in charge since. Losing that agency didn’t matter. She had already built a fandom, and we leaned hard into the body-positive aspect of my babygirl.
She’s healthy, her body is her body, and I make sure she eats right. If she carries those lush curves around, and she’s happy? That’s all that matters.
But I spent too many years watching her from a distance, wanting what I couldn't have. Now that she's mine, I'm not taking any chances.
Doesn't help that she still tests me. She wears things she knows will drive me insane. Forgets to eat before shows, even though I've told her a hundred goddamn times. Posts photos online that make my phone blow up with comments from men who don't know how close they are to death just for typing.
Little rebellions, little sparks, and I used to think she was just being a brat, until I figured out what she actually needed.
When I take control, something in her goes quiet. All that noise in her head, all the anxiety, the pressure of being perfect for all these people, it just... stops. She doesn't have to think. Doesn't have to decide. Just has to be mine, and let me handle the rest.
So when she pushes, I push back harder. And we both end up exactly where we need to be.
Catrina's somewhere in the venue with Stanley and Ruby, and isn't that a mindfuck? My wife's mother, sober three years now, babysitting our older two while I count down the minutes until I can bury myself inside her daughter.
After that day when she walked in on us, she didn't speak to us for six months. Except for making sure I paid for her new house and put her on a monthly allowance.
But time does strange things. She watched me hold Winona through three pregnancies, watched our son reach for me when he was scared, watched her daughter bloom into something radiant under my care. And eventually she stopped fighting it. Now she helps manage some of the accounting, runs a charity for low-income widows, and teaches Stanley to bake biscuits. I try not to think too hard about how fucking weird our family tree looks.
The set ends. Winona takes her bows, blows her kisses, and then she's bouncing toward me with her face flushed and her chest heaving.
And, God... God, I need her so badly my teeth ache.
"Daddy." She tucks herself against my free side, careful of Stella, pressing her sweaty forehead to my jaw. "How was I?"
How was she? Like she doesn't know she just brought twenty thousand people to their feet. Like she can't feel my cock throbbing against her hip.
"Nanny's meeting us at the hotel." I grip the back of her neck, feel her shiver. "Your mom's got the other two. And you've got about fifteen minutes before I stop being civilized."
She looks up at me with those eyes. The same ones that used to watch me while I read her bedtime stories, the same ones that rolled back in her head the first time I put my mouth on that perfect pink clit.
And she smiles.
"Then we better hurry."
The car ride is torture. The elevator is worse. By the time I get her inside the penthouse, I'm shaking with it, stripping that silver thing off her while she laughs, gasping and taunting me with those pouty lips and wide eyes.
I put her on the bed. Spread her open. Drop to my knees. Because I've been thinking about the taste of her for six straight hours, and I refuse to wait another second.
"Daddy," she moans, fingers twisting in my hair. "Daddy, please—"
I lick into her, and her back arches off the mattress. Still so sweet. Still mine in every way. This girl I raised, this woman I worship, this wife who gave me three children and a life I never deserved.
I sold the construction and cement business when it became clear my wife’s career needed me full-time. Money was never a problem before, but now, besides investing and making sure we give back to a variety of charities, I know that we and our children—and their children when the time comes—will never want for anything.
Although they will all learn what hard work means. That’s what saved me and Stan, and I used to think as a kid that if only life had handed me everything on a silver platter, it would all be so much better.