Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 35740 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 179(@200wpm)___ 143(@250wpm)___ 119(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35740 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 179(@200wpm)___ 143(@250wpm)___ 119(@300wpm)
I'm already out the door, half-running down Main Street with tears streaming down my face. Behind me, I can hear heavy footsteps and Colt's voice calling my name, but I don't stop.
"Emery! Stop running from me! Jesus Christ you’re fast." Footfalls land hard and fast behind me. “I have a butt injury here. You want me to re-open my wound?”
He’s joking but it stops me. Because that’s exactly what he and I don’t want to do. I slow my pace, my breathing fast and unsteady, not ready to turn around but comforted that his footsteps are matching mine.
“Turn around.” His voice is stern. “Babygirl—”
“No, you don’t get to Babygirl me right now, Colt Boone.” I keep walking, but don’t quicken my pace.
“Little brat.” Strong arms wrap around my waist from behind, lifting me clean off my feet. "Gotcha," he growls in my ear.
"Put me down!" I struggle against his hold, but he's already carrying me toward the small park at the end of the block.
"Not happening, baby girl. We're finishing this."
He carries me behind a cluster of oak trees that shield us from the street, then pins me back against the largest trunk. His hands bracket my head, his body caging me in.
"You done running?" he asks, his voice rough.
"Maybe I'm just getting started."
"Like hell." His thigh pushes between my legs, pressing against me through my thin leggings. "You want to know if this is real? Let me show you how real it is."
"Colt—"
"You call me Daddy." His mouth crashes down on mine, hungry and desperate and claiming. When I try to turn my head away, his hand fists in my hair, holding me still. “You remember my name, little girl, or I’ll have to remind you.”
“Daddy,” I whisper.
"You think this is guilt?" he pants against my lips, his thigh rocking against me. "You think I could fake this?"
I can feel how hard he is through his pants, can feel the way his whole body is trembling with need and barely controlled emotion.
"I think—" I start, but then his hand slides between us, cupping me through my leggings.
"You think too much," he growls, his fingers finding my clit through the fabric. "Feel instead."
I try to fight it, try to pull away. “Colt, what happened…”
“None of what I have with you is about guilt. You get that thought out of your head right now. Do I feel guilty? Yes, but that’s my burden to bear, baby girl.”
I shake my head, even as his finger traces my lips, flicks my clit, starts to make sparks fly through my body. I’m so wet already, so ready for him, but he needs to know the truth. “Jenna did what she did, and maybe it was right and maybe it was wrong, but it’s not on you. That guilt you’re carrying is unfair. You said you wanted me to trust you before you and I do. But, you have to trust me too. I get the Daddy thing, I really do, and trust me, I love it. But we are still two equals. Trust one-hundred-percent is a two-way street if we are doing this.”
“Is it?”
“Yes it is!” My knees are trembling, but I’m determined to get the truth out. “You want to take care of me, and I want that too, but sometimes Daddy you’re going to have to let your babygirl take care of you too. And this is one of those times.”
When he starts that maddening circular pressure, I forget how to form words. But I see something in his eyes. Something like an easing of the pain, something like a pressure being released.
"That's it," he murmurs, watching my face as I fall apart. "Let go for Daddy. Show me how real this is."
The orgasm hits me like lightning, making me cry out and cling to his shoulders. He works me through it, his mouth swallowing my gasps and moans.
When I finally come down, we're both breathing hard.
"Still think this is about guilt?" he asks, then gets that stupid sexy, cocky smile. “If I make you come every time I have a guilty feeling, is that okay? Because, I feel guilty every day when I eat one of Mrs. Sherman’s cupcakes.”
I look up into those pale blue eyes and see love.
"You're an idiot," I whisper.
"Yeah," he agrees, pressing his forehead against mine. "I am. But I'm your idiot."
"Damn right, you are." I cup his face in my hands. "And you're not getting rid of me that easily."
"Good," he says, kissing me again. "Because I'm never letting you go."
Twelve
Emery
Two days later...
"Mama!"
Legend's voice cuts through the parking lot like a fire alarm made of pure joy. I don’t even see him at first—I just feel him. That sound slices right through my chest, and suddenly my arms are bracing for the incoming blur of elbows and sticky hands.