My Dad’s Best Friend

A Touch of Taboo Novel

Katee Robert

Trinkets and Tales LLC

Copyright © 2020 by Katee Robert

All rights reserved.

Cover art by Katee Robert

Print ISBN: 978-1-951329-27-3

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact katee@kateerobert.com. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

Vellum flower icon Created with Vellum

Also by Katee Robert

A Touch of Taboo

Your Dad Will Do

Gifting Me To His Best Friend

My Dad’s Best Friend

Sabine Valley

Abel

Broderick

Cohen

Wicked Villains

Desperate Measures

Learn My Lesson

A Worthy Opponent

The Beast

The Sea Witch

Queen Takes Rose

Twisted Hearts

Theirs for the Night

Forever Theirs

Theirs Ever After

His Forbidden Desire

Her Rival’s Touch

His Tormented Heart

Her Vengeful Embrace

The Kings Series

The Last King

The Fearless King

The Hidden Sins Series

The Devil’s Daughter

The Hunting Grounds

The Surviving Girls

The Make Me Series

Make Me Want

Make Me Crave

Make Me Yours

Make Me Need

The O’Malley Series

The Marriage Contract

The Wedding Pact

An Indecent Proposal

Forbidden Promises

Undercover Attraction

The Bastard’s Bargain

The Hot in Hollywood Series

Ties that Bind

Animal Attraction

Come Undone Series

Wrong Bed, Right Guy

Chasing Mrs. Right

Two Wrongs, One Right

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

About the Author

1

All my life, I’ve done the safe thing. I’ve stayed on the path set out for me, and colored within the lines. I’ve been the obedient daughter, the excellent student, the driven employee. If I haven’t flourished, well, at least I haven’t floundered.

Taking the safe option might be an asset in a daughter and employee, but it isn’t for the owner of a company. It’s a hard lesson I’ve learned in the last six months, and if I don’t change my ways, the company my father built from the ground up will fall to pieces under my watch.

Which is why I’m standing in the pouring rain, dredging up what few scraps of courage I can muster, staring at the house of a man who’s made an art of avoiding me. I’ve tried email. I’ve tried calling. Jonas Barnett has ignored me, growled at me, and hung up on me. It couldn’t be clearer that he wants nothing to do with me. The safe choice would be to move on to another architect, to convince my client that there is someone else who can fill the need for their dream home.

I’m done being safe.

I need Jonas for this project. No one else. I just have to find the right words to convince him, something I won’t be able to do while I stand here and get soaked. I really should have packed an umbrella, but in the adrenaline-rushed decision to fly up to Washington, book a rental car, take a ferry to Orca Island and drive all the way around the upside-down U-shape that was this island, I forgot.

Surely I have enough adrenaline left over to knock on the door?

I drag in a breath and march up the stone steps to the charming house. It looks nothing like the style Jonas became known for when he first started working with my father. It’s not streamlined or modern or heavy in steel and concrete. Instead, it’s positively cozy. Like a house where a reclusive artist or author would live, which makes it fit in seamlessly with the rest of Orca Island that I’ve seen.

I’m stalling. I know I’m stalling.

I take a deep breath, irritated at myself, and knock on the door. Silence. A frisson of worry spears me. I didn’t call to tell him I was coming—for obvious reasons—but he just hung up on me yesterday. Surely he hasn’t decided to jaunt off somewhere? I give a grim smile. That would be in line with my luck since taking over my father’s business. Nothing’s gone right. It doesn’t matter that I worked closely with my father for four years before he decided to retire. He’s no longer in the office and suddenly every time I turn around, there’s another fire to put out with my bare hands.

I need a win. Just one win to get me back on track.

The Henderson account will do it, but to pull off the Henderson account, I need Jonas.

I knock again, harder this time. When there’s still no answer, I curse and poke the doorbell three times in rapid succession. I’m losing it, but I’ve come too far to go back now. I hit the doorbell one more time for good measure, and that’s when I hear stomping coming from inside the house.

Finally.

The door jerks open and there he is. Jonas Barnett. We’ve only met in person a handful of times, but that first encounter has been tattooed on my brain for the last six years. Somehow, he looks even better than he did the last time I saw him. His blond hair is now threaded with silver, and I’m irritated to realize it looks good on him. So do the laugh lines on his face. So does the lean body shown off by a plain white T-shirt and faded jeans. My gaze catches on his bare feet. “You’re not wearing shoes.”

“What the hell are you doing here, Blake?”

Ah, right. Focus. I need to focus. Getting sidelined by how frustratingly sexy he is will just lead me down the path to the memory of how the night the Christmas party ended. This man has rejected me enough for several lifetimes, and if I didn’t need him for this project, I would tell him to go kick dirt. Except I wouldn’t because I’d have no reason to call him up in the first place. “If you’d stop hanging up on me like a child, I wouldn’t be standing on your doorstep.”

He leans against the door frame and gives me a once-over. I started this trip looking like a put-together business woman in a slim button-down white blouse, a pencil skirt, and reasonably low heels. I even stopped to freshen up twice—at the rental car place and on the ferry before we arrived at this island. For all the good it did me. No doubt I look like a drowned rat now.

Jonas’s gaze lingers on my breasts before he jerks his eyes to mine. “I don’t suppose you’ll get in your car and go home if I slam the door in your face?”

I could threaten to call my father, but that’s like giving up. It doesn’t matter how close he and Jonas are, how often they talk on the phone, how many golfing trips they take throughout the year. That’s between my father and him. This is business.

I lift my chin. “It’d be a shame if I made a scene and irritated all your neighbors.” There are only a house or two within sight, and none are close, but it’s the best threat I can come up with.

He narrows his blue eyes. “I seem to remember you being a lot sweeter the last time we had a conversation.”

I really, really hope the chill of the rain is hiding my blush. Sweeter. That’s one way to describe the fact that the few minutes we were alone I’d stared up at him like a rabbit facing down a tiger. Except a rabbit shouldn’t want to be devoured by the tiger. I’d all but thrown myself at him, at least as much as I was capable of at the time with my flickering courage, and he’d carefully, politely, coldly rejected me.

A lot’s changed in six years. I really hope that I’ve changed, too. “I’m not leaving until you hear me out.”

“The answer is no.”

“You haven’t heard the pitch.”

Jonas curses and steps back. “Just stay there for a second. I don’t want you dripping all over my floors.”

“Your care and kindness are noted,” I say drily.

As he moves out of the way, a blast of warm air hits me and I shiver. I hadn’t realized how cold it is out here until now, and it’s like once my body has registered the feeling, it cascades over me all at once. I glance overhead at the ominous dark clouds. It rains all the time in the Pacific Northwest. That’s what everyone says. Surely this storm isn’t as worrisome as it seems? I have a flight to catch tonight, and I have absolutely no desire to be stuck in Seattle.

Jonas returns with a large towel and hands it to me. “Here. Now get in here and give me your pitch so you can leave.”

Stepping into the house is like being enveloped in a warm hug. The cozy vibe the outside gives is exponentially stronger in here. I study the room, trying to pinpoint exactly what he’s done to create this intense feeling. It might be the large leather couches carefully arranged around the fireplace, its chimney the focal point of the room as it stretches from floor to ceiling, made entirely of river rock. Or maybe it’s the vaulted ceilings overhead and the thick rug covering the hard wood floors.

“Take off your shoes.”

I step out of them automatically, but I’m starting to register just how soaked I am. My stockings rub against my skin in a way that sets my teeth on edge and my skirt and top are sodden. Damn it, this isn’t how I wanted to have this conversation.

This isn’t even the conversation I wanted to have, but my personal feelings don’t matter right now. Neither does that holiday party six years ago or the sting of rejection I can still feel. The company is my priority, and it’s more important than my pride. I’m done being safe, which means it’s time to put everything on the table and hope it’s enough to convince Jonas to change his mind.

2

I follow Jonas around the corner, bypassing a staircase to the second floor, and into his kitchen. It’s just as cozy as the rest of the house. White cabinets, dark marble countertops, a few key pops of color to keep it from feeling cold. I frown at the gray subway tile backsplash. “Did you design this place?”

“Yeah.” He puts an old fashioned tea kettle on the gas stove and turns it on. “Too much of a control freak to do otherwise.”

Just more evidence of how adaptable he is as both architect and designer. He obviously wanted a sanctuary away from the world and he’s created a flawless one. I have to squash the desire to explore and categorize the decisions he’s made. I bet the backyard is a treasure trove for design choices. My fingers practically itch for my notepad so I can write down my thoughts.

“Blake.” The tone of his voice suggests this isn’t the first time he’s said my name.

“Sorry. Admiring the room.” I pull the towel more firmly around my shoulders, but it’s really not doing much to either warm me or prevent me from dripping on the floors. My clothes are too saturated. I glance down at my feet and cringe at the puddle I’m creating. “I think I need another towel.”

Jonas curses. “This way.”

I’m far too eager to see more of his house, but even if I wasn’t, the command in those two little words would be enough to have me following him up the stairs and…into his room.

I stop short and stare at the bed. It’s a very nice bed. King-sized and with a reasonable number of pillows—four—and a bed frame made of iron bands welded into a design that gives the impression of a tree—either oak or maple. It’s exactly the kind of thing I would have chosen for the master bedroom in a house like this. It looks like a destination for more than sleep, like a great place to curl up and read or cuddle or do any number of explicit things that I most definitely should not be associating with a man who’s already rejected me.

Jonas reappears in the closet doorway and tosses a piece of clothing on the bed. “Change into this.” He glances at my clothes and makes a face. “Don’t suppose you can put your clothes in the dryer.”

I jerk back. “Only if I want to ruin them.” It’s not that they’re particularly expensive or hard to replace, but I didn’t pack an extra set of clothes because I didn’t realize I’d be caught in a rain storm.

“Thought as much.” He jerks his thumb over his shoulder at the second doorway behind him. “Hang them up in the bathroom. Shouldn’t take too long to dry.”

There’s no point in arguing. I’m soaked and shivering and dripping on his floors. Letting my clothes dry so I can get the hell out of here is a good plan. “Okay.”

“I’ll be in the kitchen.” He pauses, blue eyes somewhere between exasperated and annoyed. “Try to resist wasting both our time by getting distracted with the tile work.”

“No promises.” I grab the clothing off the bed and duck into the bathroom. Despite my best efforts, I can’t help a low murmur of approval at the shower. The upstairs isn’t particularly large, but it’s like he carved off a big chunk of what normally would have been the master bedroom and devoted it to bathroom space instead. I like it. Who needs a sitting room in their master? I’d much rather have a tiled walk-in shower that…

I crouch down and run my fingers over the stylized design on the floor of it that looks like a creek. Following the winding path leads to the back of the shower with several shower heads that I suspect, when turned on, will give the impression of a waterfall. Damn, that’s cool.

Focus, Blake.

It’s not until I’m peeling out of my wet clothes that I realize how fucked I really am. When I pictured this confrontation in my head—because pitching this project to Jonas after he dodged me for weeks will be a confrontation—I was dressed to impress and unflustered and powerful in my arguments.

Instead, I’m going to be delivering my pitch barefoot and wearing Jonas’s shirt.

I hang my shirt and skirt and stockings over the tile divider and hesitate. My bra and panties are equally soaked. If I put the shirt on over them, I’m going to be walking around with some unsightly wet spots.

The alternative is being naked except for the shirt.

I’m not sure which is preferable, because they both seem like terrible options. I worry my bottom lip and hold the shirt up to my front. It’s long enough to hit me mid-thigh and large enough that it shouldn’t cling too much… I hope.

Though, for real, would it have killed him to give me a pair of pants, too? Or shorts? Or something?

That irritation has me unhooking my bra and sliding out of my panties. I pick up the shirt again and it strikes me that I’m naked in Jonas’s house and… Yeah, I’m not going to think about that too hard. I hastily yank the shirt over my head and try to dry my hair a little more with the towel.

The woman staring back at me in the mirror looks nothing like the confident business owner that I wanted to project when I arrived. My hair is wet, I’m wearing Jonas’s shirt and it somehow makes my legs look even longer, and there’s no denying the way my nipples press against the thin fabric.

Cold. It’s because I’m cold.

I cross my arms over my chest, but that just makes it worse because it pulls the fabric tighter against my body. That’s it, I’m going to ask him for shorts right now. Maybe a giant sweatshirt or something, too.

I jerk open the bathroom door and nearly run into Jonas. He catches my shoulders. “Whoa.”

The sight of him is so unexpected, it completely derails my thoughts. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s my house.” He still hasn’t let go of my shoulders. “And it’s been ten minutes. You were ogling the tile work, weren’t you?”

My face goes hot. “It’s very nice tile work.”

“Uh huh.” He seems to realize he’s still touching me and withdraws his hands. Jonas looks away and I get the strange feeling that he’s trying very hard not to look at me. “The tea’s ready.”

I follow him back downstairs, this situation starting to feel more and more unreal. I’m achingly aware of the fact that I’m naked under his shirt and really regretting the decision to leave my panties hanging to dry. Surely a little discomfort is worth the extra layer?

Back in the kitchen, Jonas pushes a mug in my direction. I lift it and inhale. It smells like chai and something else, and I cautiously take a sip. “Oh wow, this is really good.”

“A local lady makes it.” He leans against the counter across from me and lifts his mug in my direction. “Okay, out with it. What’s the pitch?”

I set the mug down. I can do this. I’ve gone over this a hundred times since the Hendersons first listed him as their dream architect. “I have a client that wants to work with you. It would be a similar deal to how you partnered with my father back when you were still within the company—you’ll have full design control, though the client gets ultimate veto power. I’ll source anything you need, hire the necessary people to get the job done, and oversee day-to-day work once construction starts. They already have the plot of land, and they’d like the house to work with it and disrupt as little of the natural geography as possible.” I glance over my shoulder at the front door. “I have the details in my car, if you—”

“No.”

I turn back to him. “What?”

“No. Which is what I’ve been saying since you first contacted me. I’ve been down that road before and I have no interest working on a residential house with people who have more money than sense.”

I lift my brows. “You got rich doing exactly that.”

“Yeah, and I don’t do it anymore.” He takes a drink of his tea. “Your father had a list of architects frothing at the mouth to work with him before he retired. Use one of them.”

I wish that I could. “The Hendersons don’t want one of them. They want you.”

“Too fucking bad.”

“Jonas, they’re dream clients. They’re so starstruck by the thought of you designing their home that they’ll take your input as the word of god. It won’t be like it was before.” Before when a series of tumultuous accounts drove him to break his business partnership with my father. Or at least that’s my father’s side of things. No matter what else is true, it didn’t affect their friendship any. “And it’s only one job. I’m not looking for a partner.”

“Sounds like you need one if you’re wasting this much energy chasing down someone who doesn’t want to be chased.”

The sentence stings more than it has right to. I can’t help holding it up against that night at the Christmas party. He didn’t want to be chased then, either. I swallow hard. I won’t beg. No matter what else is true, I have a tiny sliver of pride left and it’s the only thing getting me through the challenges of the last six months. I lift my chin. “Is that your final answer?”

“Yes.” He says it firmly, a little bite to the word. “I’m not doing it.”

I take a careful breath and slowly exhale. Okay, another setback. That’s fine. I can figure out a different way forward. I’ll find another architect with similar flare and convince the Hendersons that they’re the best bet. It will take some doing, but I’ll figure it out. I smooth back my hair. “Thank you for your time. I’ll be going now.”

I manage it one step before a horrible sound blares through the room. It takes my startled brain a few seconds to register what it is—an emergency broadcast. Jonas digs his phone out of his pocket and glares at it. Frustration writes itself across his features, quickly followed by resignation. “Yeah, you won’t be going anywhere. The storm’s bad enough that they’ve stopped the ferries until it passes. They won’t start up until morning, and that’s only if the storm front moves faster than expected, which it’s not likely to.”

There’s a rushing sound in my ears. I stare at him, waiting for his words to make sense. “I’m sorry, what?”

Jonas sighs. “You’re stuck here, Blake.”

3

“What do you mean I’m stuck here?

“Exactly what I said. Unless you plan on sleeping in your car.”

I wet my lips, my thoughts still frantically circling. I can’t stay in this house with Jonas. I can’t. When it comes to him, I’ve already humiliated myself enough to last a lifetime. I can’t stay here. Not when I’m mostly naked and he looks really good, but he’s been very clear that he’s not interested in me. I should have enough restraint to take the rejection to heart, but there’s no reason to spend more time with him than strictly necessary. “I’ll get a hotel.”

Another of those exasperated sighs. “You can try, but it’s tourist season and even if they have a room, it’s a waste of money and time. You can stay here.”

“You only have one bed,” I blurt.

“Yeah, I noticed.” He scrubs his hand over his face. I must imagine the way his gaze rakes my body, because the next moment he’s back to normal. “You take the bed. The couch will work well enough for one night.”

“Jonas, I can’t just take your bed.”

“You can and you will. Even if you can find a room to rent, any kind of traveling isn’t safe in this kind of storm. You’ll drive right off the road and no one will find you for hours—possibly days. You’re staying here and that’s final.”

I’ve seen the stubborn look on his face before, six years ago in my father’s study when he oh so carefully rejected my advance. I didn’t prevail then, and something tells me I’m not going to prevail now, either. Just like I won’t when it comes to recruiting him for the Henderson account. Frustration boils up within me. “Fine. I’ll stay here tonight—on one condition.”

“I’m not negotiating.”

My frustration gains teeth and claws. “Aren’t you?” I head for the door. I realize how ridiculous this is, how he won this argument the moment I changed out of my wet clothes and into his T-shirt. Leaving means abandoning my favorite pair of heels. It doesn’t matter. I’m angry and I’m proving a point.

Jonas doesn’t grab me. He doesn’t try to get between me and the door. He just brings me short with two words. “Stop, Blake.”

My body responds to his command even as my brain rails at the fact that he holds even this little amount of power over me. I thought I exorcised it long ago. I turn to face him. “I’ll stay, but we’re going to talk about it.”

“I already said—”

I wave that away. “Not about the deal.” Reckless. I am being so reckless. If there’s a chance to convince him to take this job, I shouldn’t be throwing it away by bringing up the one thing guaranteed to make working together awkward. But then, I’ve always had a bit of an impulse control issue and I can only take so much bullshit before it raises its ugly head and gets me into trouble. “About that night.”

Jonas’s gaze flares hot before he shuts it down. And he does shut down his initial reaction; I’m watching him closely enough not to miss it this time. “There’s nothing to talk about. You were a child and it shouldn’t have gotten as far as it did.”

I blink. A child. That’s how he saw me? No wonder he broke that kiss, patted me on the head, and sent me on my way. “It was six years ago, not sixteen. I was twenty-two. Hardly a child.”

“You were too young.”

But I’m already shaking my head. “You were forty, not seventy. This argument doesn’t make sense.”

I don’t realize Jonas is moving until he’s right in front of me. I take a step back without meaning to, a pure reflex, and he follows me. So I do it again. We engage in this strange little chase until my legs hit the couch and I lose my balance, landing on my ass on the cushion. Jonas follows me down, bracing his hands on the back of the couch and towering over me. “Listen closely, Blake because I’m only going to say this once.”

My smirk is pure bravado. “Your high and mighty grandfather sage tone is really impressive.”

He gives me a long look and I have the sneaking suspicion that he’d like nothing more than to put me over his knee and paddle my ass for mouthing off. The very thought sends a bolt of heat directly to my core. We didn’t get very long alone on that night, barely enough time for a short conversation and an illicit kiss. Not nearly long enough for me to realize I might get a perverse enjoyment out of pushing Jonas’s buttons.

He makes a rumbling sound that might be a low laugh and might be just a flat out growl. “You father is my best friend and, at the time, he was my boss. What the fuck do you think I was going to do when his precious little princess rubs herself against me and kisses me?”

“I don’t know, Jonas,” I match his dry tone. “Fuck her like she wanted you to.”

The muscles in his arms stand out and I don’t have to look to know that he’s white-knuckling the back of the couch. “You were a baby and you are my best friend’s daughter. Fucking you was never on the menu.”

“Don’t infantilize me. I knew what I wanted and I went for it. If you’re not into me, that’s fine, but don’t act like I didn’t know exactly what I was doing when I kissed you.” I’m getting angry now, truly angry. “And yeah, you might be friends with my dad, but that doesn’t make you my dad.” I glare. “Unless you want me to call you Daddy, in which case I’ll consider it.”

“Blake.” Oh, the warning in his tone.

He’s close to snapping and I’m a bitch because I want to keep mashing that button until he explodes. What will happen when he does? Will he rip off my clothes and fuck me right here on this couch? Will he haul me out of his house and slam the door in my face? I don’t know, and because I don’t know, I can’t stop myself from inciting him. “Jonas.”

“I might be an asshole, but even I have lines. Fucking the college-aged daughter of my friend and boss under his roof crosses that line.”

He’s right, and I know he’s right, but that doesn’t stop me from saying, “We’re not under his roof now.”

Jonas pulls back the tiniest bit, staring down at me like he’s sure I’m joking. I should be joking. If sex was a bad idea at that Christmas party six years ago, it’s an even worse idea now. If I want him to say yes to working with me for this account, fucking him will muddy the waters irreparably. And if I do and then he says yes and it gets out…

Our industry isn’t particularly large. I’ve never worried overmuch about image or tried to play a role to get me ahead. But even I can’t deny that reputation matters.

Why would it get out?

I shut down the little voice, because I can already see the answer written all over Jonas’s face. The rejection. He sure does like telling me no, and he confirms it when he shoves back. “No.”

“Okay.”

“I mean it, Blake.”

“I get it. Really, I do.” My body might be a little slower to come to terms with it. A steady heat pulses through me and I feel simultaneously too light and far too anchored in my skin. I push to my feet and try not to hold it against him when he takes a measured step back as if determined to preserve the distance between us. “I think it’s best I, uh, go to bed.” It’s not late, but the alternative is staying in his presence a moment longer than strictly necessary. I’ve already proven I have garbage self-control when it comes to this man. There’s no need to press my luck any further.

“Yeah,” he says slowly, and he really needs to stop watching me like that because it’s getting the wires crossed in my head. “Do you need anything out of your car?”

“My bag. I—”

“I’ll get it.” He’s gone before I can argue, leaving me blinking after him. I have the sneaking suspicion that Jonas just ran from me, but I can take a hint. Eventually. I have a healthy self-esteem, but I have no desire to keep throwing myself at a guy that’s rejected me twice. No matter how sexy he is or how he watches me like he wants to consume me whole. I look at pumpkin donuts the same way, and I don’t want to fuck them.

Jonas returns a few moments later and, from the way his white shirt is plastered to his chest, it’s still raining hard outside. The fabric clings lovingly to the curves of his pecs and the… No. No, no, no. I am not going to stand here and ogle him, and I’m certainly not going to let my eyes linger at his hips to see if there’s a cock imprint on his jeans.

Instead, I snag the bag out of his hands and flee upstairs.

4

It takes all of five seconds in Jonas’s bed to realize I’ve made a horrible mistake. The feeling starts when I brushed my teeth in his bathroom with the spare toothbrush, and only gets worse when I pull back the sheets and the scent of him hits me. He must have more than his fair share of pheromones or something, because just that hit has my thighs shaking. I almost march back downstairs and demand to take the couch, but it would mean another interaction with him, and I’m not certain I can do it without making an ass of myself. Again.

I grit my teeth and climb into his bed.

Oh, fuck, it’s amazing. The sheets are flannel and instantly banish the chill of the room. It would be positively cozy if I wasn’t so horny that I’m about to come out of my skin. Every shift of my body has the sheets rubbing against my bare legs, my arms, and sends another hit of Jonas’s intoxicating scent straight through me.

I bite my bottom lip hard, but it does nothing to dispel the lust weaving its way through me. I should just close my eyes and count my exhales until I drift off, but I’m too restless. I’m a night owl by nature. If I were home, I would still be up for hours yet. Obviously, that’s not an option here. Better to close my eyes and will myself to sleep until morning and my escape from this house.

Easier said than done.

I twist one way and then another. It’s a lost cause. I’m too rattled to go to sleep like this. I know what will help take the edge off, but masturbating here with Jonas under the same roof feels even more reckless than anything I’ve done so far.

It’s not like he’ll know.

I can be quiet. I mean, sure, it’s the exception, but I can do it this once.

Maybe I’m a liar, but it’s too late. I snake my hand down my stomach and drag my fingers through my pussy folds. I’m so wet, I’m half surprised that I’m not making a mess of his sheets. The thought is simultaneously funny and so hot, I can barely stand it. I spread my legs more and tease myself, tracing my opening and spreading my wetness up and around my clit. It won’t take much to get me off, but I’ve always liked to savor my orgasms. Hard and fast does the trick in a pinch, but it doesn’t really accomplish the same thing one that I build slowly will.

On impulse, I grab the pillow and roll over. It’s crossing so many lines to be fucking myself with my fingers while my face is buried in Jonas’s pillow, but I’m too turned on to care. Besides, I can muffle any sounds I make this way. It totally makes sense.

I tease my opening and press two fingers in. It feels good, almost too good, so I trail my fingertips over my clit and back down again. I’m making little whimpering sounds now, but I can’t help it. I have to lift my hips a bit to get a better angle to fuck myself with my fingers, and the sheet slides off my ass. The bite of the chilly air only heightens my pleasure.

This just feels so dirty. I shouldn’t be doing it, so I want to do it more. I have been so good for so long. It’s not my fault that wild abandon sneaks through the cracks sometimes. I’m usually very careful to let off steam on a regular basis, but there hasn’t been time since I took over my father’s company. I’m working long, stressful hours in between collapsing face-down on my bed and sleeping like the dead.

I just need one little orgasm to get myself back under control. It’s such a simple ask. No one but me will ever know.

A creak of a floorboard is the only warning I get that I’m no longer alone. I open my eyes and freeze. Jonas is standing in the doorway, his fist raised to knock, the door hanging wide open. I must not have closed it all the way…

Why the hell am I thinking about that right now?

I should be moving, should be scrambling to cover myself, should definitely remove the two fingers I’ve penetrated myself with, but the look on his face freezes me in place. He’s staring at me like he can’t decide if this is dream or reality, but he really wants it to be reality.

I clear my throat. “Did you need something?”

“My toothbrush.” His voice is lower than normal, low enough that the faint rumble in it threatens to curl my toes.

Apparently we’re just going to pretend he can’t see what I’m very clearly doing. “Um, go ahead.”

But Jonas doesn’t walk to the bathroom. He slowly makes his way to the side of the bed and stares down at me. “Blake,” the quiet censor in his tone nearly makes me come on the spot. “You couldn’t wait five minutes before you started fucking yourself with your fingers in my bed?”

How am I supposed to answer that? I’ve been trying to make my peace with him rejecting me—again—and there’s no frame of reference for whatever’s happening right now. It’s like my brain skips and all I can do is blurt, “You weren’t going to do it.”

“Mmm.” His face is in the shadow cast by the open door, which means my body must be clearly outlined by the light. Jonas exhales slowly. “Well, don’t stop on my account.”

Surely I didn’t hear him correctly.

Except he’s sinking down onto the mattress behind me, and holy fuck, this is happening. Desire overcomes whatever brakes I have left and I begin to move again. I can’t see him, but I can feel him watching me.

Jonas tsks. “You’re doing a terrible job of it, baby girl.”

The endearment lashes me like fire and I moan. I can’t help it. “Think you can do better?”

“Oh, I know I can.” His voice changes a little, that dry tone going deeper yet. “I’m going to touch you now.”

“I might die if you don’t.”

His rough chuckle sounds as strained as I feel, and then it doesn’t matter because the mattress gives beneath his weight as he moves and he’s smoothing his hands over my ass. He slides my shirt higher up my back. Exposing me. “Better,” Jonas murmurs. He squeezes my ass as if measuring me, his rough palms dragging over my sensitive skin. “This gets to be too much, then you tell me to stop and I stop. Got it?”

Stop? Is that a joke? I’ve been waiting six years for him to touch me and I’m a little afraid that I’d bite off my own tongue before I uttered the word. Still, he’s obviously waiting for an answer, so I clear my throat. “Got it.”

“Good.” He drags his thumbs over the lower curve of my ass, using that tiny pressure to guide my legs wider. “What a little slut you are, Blake. Rubbing all over my sheets and playing with your pussy. Were you going to fuck my pillow next?”

Humiliation lashes me and I whimper, arching my back, working my pussy with my fingers. Fuck, why is that it so hot to have him talk to me like this, like I’ve disappointed him? I don’t know, but I don’t want him to stop. “Sorry, Daddy.” The words just slip out. I don’t mean to. I really don’t.

Jonas pauses his idle stroking as if I’ve shocked him, and for a moment, I think I’ve taken it too far. He’s already pointed out our age difference in a way that suggests it bothers him. Calling him Daddy is just shining a spotlight on it and amping it up to a million.

“Get your fingers out of your pussy when I’m talking to you.”

The snap in his voice has me obeying instantly, but I’m me, so I only move them to my clit. I don’t stroke, but there’s no way he missed that I’ve obeyed the order to the letter, if not the spirit. Jonas tsks, and the disappointment in the sound has me turning my face into the pillow to keep from moaning out loud. Finally, he says, “Answer the question. Were you going to fuck my pillow next?”

“Yes.” I don’t even know if it’s true. It doesn’t matter. I suddenly want him to punish me, to pull on this delicious thread of humiliation until it undoes me completely.

“Thought so.” He brackets my upper thighs, a bare half an inch below my pussy, and squeezes hard enough to hurt. I jump a little and then shamelessly lift my ass higher. Offering myself to him, and there’s no denying it. I catch myself holding my breath as I wait for what happens next.

Jonas doesn’t make me wait long. He sighs as if already bored with this. “If you’re going to fuck something inadequate the second I leave the room, I’ll give you something with more substance to fill that needy pussy.” And then his fingers are there at my entrance. Not teasing, not doing anything but pressing lightly where I need his touch more than I need my next breath. When I freeze, he releases an exasperated breath. “Well, baby girl? You want to fuck something? Fuck my fingers.”

5

Understanding dawns, bringing with it another wave of that delicious humiliation. I hold my breath and ease back a little. His fingers slide into me to the first knuckle. Holy shit, he’s really going to make me do all the work. I have to work myself back onto his two fingers and if I thought what I was doing before is dirty, it’s nothing compared to this. He keeps a light grip on my hip and his blunt fingers stretch me as I take them deeper. The positioning is wrong to get me off, but it doesn’t seem to matter because this situation is so hot, I feel like I’m burning alive. I wedge myself onto his fingers until he’s as deep as he can go and then I release a breath.

This is happening.

This is really happening.

“Blake.” His fingers flex on my hip, the slightest betrayal that he’s at all affected by what we’re doing. “I gave you very clear instructions, didn’t I?”

I can barely think past the need thrumming in my blood. “Yes?”

“Apparently not.” Why does him sounding disappointed in me turn me on so much? I don’t know. I don’t know, but I desperately don’t want it to stop. Jonas’s finger flexes inside me. “You’re obviously going to make me do all the work in this, as well.”

“No?” He lightly slaps my ass. It’s more shocking than painful, and I start to jerk forward, only to have him follow me, shoving his finger deep into my pussy and bearing me the rest of the way to the bed. “Oh fuck.”

“Language,” he murmurs. “Now be a good girl and spread your legs wider. I want to see you.”

“Yes, Daddy,” I whisper. He doesn’t move as I obey, spreading my legs wide. The position lifts my ass a little, but he moves back enough that I’m able to. I expect… I don’t know what I expect. This entire moment feels like a fever dream, like I’m in an orgasm-induced blackout and surely it’s all fantasy and Jonas Barnett doesn’t really have his fingers in my pussy after I called him Daddy.

He eases his fingers out of me, and I can’t stop a sound of protest. But Jonas doesn’t stop touching me. He grips my thighs. “Get your hand off your clit, Blake.”

Immediately, I drop my hand. I’d rather he touch me anyway. He’s not doing anything to actively push me to orgasm, but the sheer sexiness of this moment, of this strange sort of humiliation, has me dancing on the edge despite that.

He lightly pinches my clit. I jolt, but manage to cut down the reaction before I dislodge him. He circles once and then goes back to my opening and wedges two broad fingers into me. “So fucking eager for it.” The way he says it, it doesn’t sound like a good thing. “Would you have done this in your father’s office? Bent over his desk, pulled up your dress, and soaked your thighs while I stroke your pussy?”

The image slammed into me and I have to bury my face in his pillow to avoid moaning out load. Except it backfires because I get a full inhale of Jonas’s scent. He squeezes my ass, fingers digging in. “That was not a rhetorical question.”

It would be so much easier to form words if he wasn’t tracing my G-spot with the tips of his fingers. I take in a shuddering breath. “Yes.”

“Shameless. Little. Slut.” Each word is compounded by a stroke.

This whole situation is so surreal. I can’t see him. He’s got a handful of my ass, but the only other place he’s touched me is my pussy. It’s like we’re strangers, except I don’t call strangers Daddy. I don’t call anyone Daddy, even my father. Apparently Jonas is the exception to that rule, because it just feels right for some reason. I turn my head to the side. “Tell me you didn’t want it that night, too.”

He gives my ass another light slap. “We’re not talking about me, baby girl. We’re talking about you and this needy pussy.” He keeps working my G-spot, edging me closer and closer to orgasm. I fight it. I have to. I’m suddenly terrified that the second I come, this ends, and I desperately don’t want this to end.

“I need your cock,” I blurt out.

“No,” he answers easily. “You haven’t done a single thing to earn it, and you won’t get your way by demanding it like a spoiled brat.”

I grip the sheets and fight to hold still. “Please?”

“Now she learns some manners,” he murmurs. “The answer is still no.” The mattress moves beneath us as he slides his hand down my hip and around to stroke my clit. The new position has his clothed legs touching me, and that little extra bit of contact is nearly as hot as the way he plays with my clit. “Be a good girl and come all over my hand, Blake. I know you want to.”

Confusion and desire and no small amount of shame work me just as intensely as Jonas does. Even trying to fight my orgasm, it’s already too late. I moan as I come, bearing down on his fingers. The orgasm keeps going and going and, holy shit, I’m squirting. He fingers me until I’m a puddle of flesh and bone on his bed, shaking and panting and whimpering. Only then does he stop touching me and sit back.

I can’t look at him. He hasn’t moved, and I can’t shake the feeling that if I break the silence first, this will end forever. And I desperately don’t want it to end.

Finally, he says, “Look at the mess you’ve made.”

I sob out a breath in what might be relief. “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

“Come over here and prove it.”

Elation gives me the strength to rise on my hands and knees to move around to face him. Jonas looks at me the same way he has been since I showed up unannounced on his doorstep—as if he’s half a second from tossing me out on my ass. I don’t expect the punch of lust in response. I really should by now.

He flicks an impatient hand at the floor by his feet. “On your knees.”

It’s only then that I notice the massive cockstand pressing against the front of his jeans. It looks almost painful, and giddiness has me rushing off the bed so fast, my legs give out. He catches my elbow, keeping me off the floor, and shakes his head. “Slowly, Blake.”

How am I supposed to move slowly when he’s giving me something I’ve spent six years pretending I don’t crave? It was so much easier when I didn’t see him, but all the longing of that night at the Christmas party hits me at once, compounded by countless nights spent fantasizing about a different ending, stroking myself to orgasm with this man’s name on my lips. Again and again and again.

I sink to my knees between his thighs and he sits back and props himself up on his hands. Jonas glowers down at me. “We’re going to talk in a minute.”

“Okay,” I whisper. I slowly put my hands on his thighs, relishing the way the muscle flexes beneath the jeans in response to my touch. When he doesn’t stop me, I skate my touch up to his hips, and then to the button of his jeans. “In a minute.”

“Take out your Daddy’s cock, Blake. Show me how much you appreciate that orgasm. Tell me ‘thank you’ with that sexy fucking mouth.”

My fingers turn fumbling as I undo his jeans. He lifts his hips as I work them down, but that’s the only help he gives me. I take my time drawing out his cock, relishing how huge and thick and so perfect it is. I lick my lips and wrap my fist around him. And then he’s in my mouth and, fuck, he’s huge. My jaw already aches with the effort it takes to swallow him down. There’s no way I’ll be able to take him all. I fight down the instinctive flare of panic and suck him deeper. He curses softly, and I can’t help but open my eyes to look up at him.

Jonas’s expression hasn’t changed. He looks impatient and annoyed with his brows drawn together and his eyes hard. If not for the way he’s clenching his jaw, I might think he’s entirely unaffected.

It’s like throwing gasoline on the fire of my desire. I don’t understand why I’m reacting like this to his annoyance, but I don’t question it. I just suck his cock down until he bumps the back of my throat, and then I keep going. Still not deep enough. I can’t take any more.

He watches me with unreadable eyes and shakes his head. “Such a little slut. You’ve sucked so much cock, you don’t even choke on it.”

I ease off him and flick my tongue against the underside of his length. “Or maybe I just have no gag reflex to speak of.”

“You shouldn’t be speaking at all right now, baby girl.” He lightly grips the back of my head, guiding me back down. He’s barely applying any pressure at all, more a suggestion than anything else, but I suck him down again as if he’s holding me down and fucking my mouth.

In fact, I really, really want Jonas to do that.

I know better than to ask for it now. This forbidden game we’re playing has a script, at least in his head, and right now it involves me thanking him for my orgasm. Fucking my mouth until I cry doesn’t fit.

Maybe next time.

6

I stop teasing him and get to work sucking Jonas’s cock. I don’t want this to end, but he’s right—we have to have a conversation and the only way to get there is if he comes, too. The strange logic makes sense in my head and I wrap my fist around his base, working him in time with my mouth. Unlike me, he doesn’t seem interested in holding out for as long as possible. His grip tightens ever so slightly and then he asks in a rough voice, “Spit or swallow, Blake?”

I let my actions answer for me, picking up my pace until he curses and comes in my mouth. I drink him down eagerly. In fact, I don’t want to stop, so I keep at him until Jonas curses again and wraps his fist around my hair, pulling me off his cock. “That’s enough.”

“Is it?” I lick my lips and sit back on my heels. In the darkness of the room, this feels unforgivably intimate and strange. I’m still half-convinced that I’m in an orgasm-induced hallucination because there’s no way that Jonas is sitting here, staring down at me with his hair a mess and his cock still out. He looks at me with that same borderline-annoyed expression. I smooth my hands down my bare legs. What was I saying? Oh, right. “Is it really enough?”

Finally he growls. “Fuck, no, it wasn’t enough.” He doesn’t sound happy about it, but I don’t think Jonas ever sounds happy about anything. I kind of like that about him. He drags his hand through his hair and curses. “This is a mistake.”

“Probably.”

He shoots me a look. “You don’t have to sound so happy about it.”

“I just had your cock in my mouth, and that was after you made me come so hard, I drenched your bed. I’m incapable of sounding anything but blissfully happy right now.”

I love the way his brows lower at that. “You’re a pain in my ass.”

“We’ve already established that.” I am prepared to beg him to fuck me, but he’s obviously got something on his mind, so I force myself to be patient. Just like I force myself to keep my hands on his thighs instead of giving into the temptation to keep playing with his cock. “You said we’d talk.”

“Yeah, I guess I did.” He surveys me. “You want me. I want you. It was damned inconvenient six years ago, and it hasn’t gotten any less inconvenient since then. If Victor ever finds out…”

I snort. “You have a very strange idea about my relationship with my father. He doesn’t care who I’m with as long as I’m happy.” Jonas is ten years younger than him, and my father has made more than one comment about what a good man he is, if difficult. But then, Jonas isn’t asking for my hand in marriage. He just wants to fuck me, which I’m only too happy to negotiate around. “Regardless, it’s not like I run telling tales to him about my sexual partners. I don’t see why this would be the exception.”

He considers that. “Fair.”

I tug at the hem of his shirt I’m wearing. “This is separate from business, too. I’m not throwing myself at you in order for you to take this account. That’s not how I negotiate.”

“Good, because no matter how sweet your pussy is, I’m not saying yes.”

Strangely, it’s a relief that he’s so stubborn about this. I want to sleep with him, but bringing business into it will make the whole thing dirty in a way that isn’t sexy in the least. “So we don’t talk business tonight. We just fuck.”

“Blake.”

God, the way he says my name. As if I’m missing some very important point and he’s exasperated with me. “Yes?”

“Do you really think one night is enough?” Before I can answer, Jonas continues. “Stay the weekend. The storm’s supposed to last that long anyways, and it’ll be annoying to have this conversation again tomorrow when you realize you can’t leave yet.”

“Heaven forbid I do something to annoy you.”

He shoots me a look, but there’s a sliver of warmth in his blue eyes, as if I’ve amused him. “Now you get the idea.” He hesitates. “Things got a little out of control there. Are we good?”

I stare, but he’s obviously not joking. “Jonas, is there literally anything about my reaction that makes you think we’re not?”

“All the same, answer the question.”

I huff out a breath. “Yes, we’re good. The baby girl-Daddy stuff surprised me, but it’s hot as hell and I would like to keep using it.”

“Same,” he murmurs. Jonas looks like he’s fighting himself not to grab me and toss me on the bed, and it’s sexy as hell. “You have any hard limits when it comes to fucking?”

My brain skips and I can’t think of a single one, but he’s being so serious, I honestly try to think of something he could do that I wouldn’t be into. I swallow hard. “Um, no?”

Jonas’s eyes go intense. “So you’re saying that I can fuck any hole I want, any way I want?”

“Yes,” I whisper. The prospect has me feeling so hot, I’m surprised I haven’t burst into flames.

“You answered that awfully quick.” I can’t tell if that pleases him or not. “Surely you have some hard limit, Blake. Everyone does.”

“I want you to do anything you want to me.” Reckless. So fucking reckless, but this isn’t just any guy. This is Jonas Barnett. The man I’m not supposed to want. My father’s best friend. The specter in my fantasies that no real-life person can live up to. If I only get a weekend, I don’t want to have regrets. I want everything he’ll give me. Every single fucking thing.

He studies my face. “So if I want to call up my friend to show you off and have you suck his cock like a good little girl, you’re into that?”

My mouth moves, but no words come out. Am I into that? I have no idea. I’ve had plenty of sex with plenty of partners, and even a few threesomes, but there’s something about the way he poses this question that makes it feel different. “Is that something you want to do?”

“Maybe.” He’s still watching me intensely. “Does the idea bother you?” I can’t tell if he’s trying to push me away or if he’s pulling out fantasies so dark, I didn’t even realize I had them.

Honest. I can be honest. “No,” I say the word like I’m trying it out. “Not in general.” That’s not the full truth, though. “For this weekend? I would rather keep things between just us.”

“Good. I don’t mind sharing, but not in this situation.” Jonas holds out a hand and I take it easily, letting him pull me up to straddle him. He palms my ass, bringing us flush together, and then his voice is in my ear, as tempting as the devil himself. “I like the idea of that pussy belonging to me, Blake. I take care of what’s mine, and for this weekend, your pussy is mine.”

Holy shit.

The idea of being owned by him steals my ability to make words. It’s just a kinky fun thing the same way that the Daddy pet name is a game. It’s a game I desperately want to play. I whimper a little and rock against him. “Why is that so hot?”

He exhales a shaky breath like I’ve surprised him. Hell, I’ve surprised myself, too. Jonas cups my ass, stilling me. “Because you’re a little slut, Blake. You play the sunny princess, but what you really need is to be fucked dirty and put in your place.” His cock is already hardening again and he exerts the smallest pressure on my ass, guiding me to roll my hips. “Tell me it’s not true.”

“I…” I stare at him. “It’s not true. I want to be good.”

“No, you don’t.” He lifts a brow. “That’s why you’re rubbing your pussy all over my cock right now without permission.”

He’s right.

His hand goes back to my hair and he wraps it around his fist again, guiding my face to his until we’re kissably close. Unforgivably, intimately close. “If you change your mind at any point, you fucking tell me. Promise me that or this goes no farther.”

“I promise.” When he still hesitates, I run my hands up his chest. I wish he was naked, but there’s time for that. “I trust you, Jonas.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t.” His expression is almost tormented. “Maybe you shouldn’t trust me at all. The things I want to do to you, baby girl. I want to fucking defile you.”

7

I want to defile you.

“Do it,” I whisper. “I’m right here. I want you to. I need you to.”

Jonas bends me back so that my breasts are in his face. I’m still rolling my hips, still rubbing myself up and down the length of his cock. It feels so good, I never want to stop, but I also need more. I let him take my weight, trusting him to keep me off the floor. He’s still holding back. I don’t need to see his face to know that.

There’s only one thing to do. I up my game. “Please.” I lift my hips just enough that his cock presses to my entrance. “I need your cock.”

“I’m not wearing a condom,” he says it so mildly, as if commenting on the weather.

“I’m on the pill,” I gasp. “I, uh, I’ve been tested recently.” Right after I broke up with my last girlfriend a few months ago. “I haven’t been with anyone since then.”

“I have, too.” He says it so quietly, I can barely hear the words over the pounding of my blood in my ears. “Still not a good idea. I get a feel for this pussy bare, I might never give it up.”

Surely I just heard him wrong. Or it’s all part of the roleplaying we’ve fallen into so seamlessly. Outside of sex, Jonas seems to barely tolerate my presence. Hell, even with sex, he seems to barely tolerate it, though that has a distinct flavor of desire. He’s trying to shock me again, trying to scare me off as if being here in this moment is anything but exactly what I choose.

In this moment, what I choose is to be the dirty little slut he’s named me with such fondness. “Please, Daddy. Please fill me up.”

His exhale against my chest is almost shaky. For a moment, I think he’ll give me exactly what we both obviously want. I really should know better. Jonas shifts his grip on my hair, pulling me up so that our faces are even. He’s regained control of himself. His expression offers me nothing, which only makes me want to provoke him more. Jonas gives my hair a little tug. “I said you have to earn this cock and I meant it. You’re nowhere near that yet.”

I’m not?

I lick my lips, achingly aware of how closely he follows the move. “What do I have to do to earn it?”

“How quickly you ask that. You really would do anything, wouldn’t you?” His mouth twists like he’s unhappy with the revelation.

I know it pisses him off, but I really can’t think up much that he could do that I wouldn’t be into. Not when he’s already broken several of the rules I was sure I wasn’t into. I’m not willing to eliminate much ahead of time… But I think hard, trying to come up with something to appease him. “I don’t think I’d like to dress up like an animal.”

Jonas blinks. “You don’t think you would?”

My cheeks heat, and it feels like that embarrassment is coating my entire body, driving my desire higher. “I don’t know. I’ve never tried it before. Are you into that?”

“No, Blake.” He says it so drily, it’s like the words have sucked up every bit of moisture in the room. “That particularly kink isn’t an interest of mine.”

“Oh.” He’s still waiting, so I dig deeper. “I’m good with spanking and some really rough sex, but I don’t really want any heavy pain stuff.”

“That’s more than fair.” His grip gentles in my hair, moving to my neck and massaging the tight muscles there. “Give me one more.”

One more limit. Why is this man so obsessed with them? Most guys would take carte blanche and run with it, but each limit I put in place seems to reassure Jonas, so I try really hard to think of something else. “Um, I don’t want to do any blood play?” One of the characters in my favorite series had that particular kink, and while it was kind of hot to read about, it’s not something I’m overly interested in trying for myself.

Jonas sighs. “No animal role-play, no heavy pain, and no blood play. Baby girl, you’re leaving the field wide open.” He turns and pushes me down onto the bed. “Up to the headboard.”

I scramble to obey. He follows me, kneeling between my spread legs, and brackets my thighs with a strong grip, urging them farther apart. “You will continue to communicate if something makes you feel uncomfortable.”

There wasn’t a question in there, but I nod all the same. “Yes, Daddy.”

His grip falters on my thighs, and then tightens until I gasp. None of his thoughts show on his face, just a heat so intense I have to fight not to whimper. “That’s right, Blake. I’m your Daddy now, and it’s your job to make me happy.”

“Okay,” I whisper.

“Now lift that shirt and show your Daddy your pretty pussy.”

It doesn’t matter that he’s had his hands all over me at this point. It feels dirty and damn near unforgivable as I reach shaking hands to the hem of the shirt and pull it up a few inches, baring myself to him. I start to lift it more, but he shakes his head. “Stop there.”

I stop there.

“Now hold perfectly still and be silent.”

A simple enough command that becomes significantly less simple as he slides his hands up my thighs and parts my pussy with his thumbs. It’s humiliating to be spread like this, to have him tracing my most private area as if he’s examining me, judging me, weighing whether or not I am up to his standards. My hand are shaking so hard, I have to press them to my stomach. Or maybe it’s my entire body that’s shaking.

Jonas presses my folds away from my clit. He barely touches the bundle of nerves and I have to bite my lip hard to keep from moaning. “Needy little thing,” he murmurs, almost to himself. I can’t tell if he’s talking about me or my clit. I’m not sure it matters.

He moves back down to my opening, spreading me wide, and then down to my ass. His expression is almost completely neutral…as long as I don’t look at his eyes. They’re like blue flames, ready to consume me. Good. I want to be consumed by this man.

It’s only for the weekend, after all. A chance to get this intense attraction out of our systems so we can move on. Maybe then I’ll finally be able to put that encounter at the Christmas party out of my mind.

But not yet.

I drag in a breath as he tries my opening. “I—”

“Be silent, baby girl.” His gaze flicks to my face. “You wouldn’t want someone to hear.”

Just like that, he’s dragged me into a fantasy I’m not sure I had before this moment. I know we’re alone in his house, but it doesn’t matter, because the thought that I have to be quiet so no one knows what we’re doing is too intense to let go of. I worry my bottom lip and nod. “I’ll try.”

“Do better than try.” He pushes a single finger into me. A moment later, a second finger joins the first. I’m so wet, there’s no resistance at all as he begins to slowly stroke me. Testing me.

I still can’t believe this is happening. For how much Jonas seems to like telling me no, he’s certainly gone from zero to sixty in the space of an hour. Just how far are we going to go?

I want to know. I need to know.

“Did you know I spent the night at that party?”

The question catches me so off-guard, I tense. “Yes.” His presence under my parents’ roof had driven me to distraction. First because he drew me like a moth to flame, and then because even with rejection stinging like a wasp, I still wanted him. I lick my lips. “I fingered myself thinking about you that night.” I match his low tone, our words barely above whispers.

Jonas works a third finger into my pussy the same way he did the first two. Slowly. Methodically. “If I walked into the wrong room, I would have been treated to the same sight I got earlier.”

Me on my stomach, ass up as I fuck myself with my fingers.

I nod, barely daring to breathe. “Yes.”

“In your parents’ house, no less.” He shakes his head. “If I’d walked in and shut the door, what would you have done then, baby girl?”

The room feels like it’s getting hotter with each second that passes. I look down my body to where he’s still finger fucking me. He’s not going after my G-spot the way he did last time. No, Jonas is stroking me like he owns me and he’s reminding us both of the fact. Slow and thorough and possessive. I swallow hard. “I think it would play out a lot like this.”

“Mmm. I think so, too.” He slides his free hand over my hip, fingers dipping beneath the fabric. “You’d roll over and pull up your shirt so you can show me this pretty pussy. How’s a man supposed to walk away from an invitation like that?”

“He’s not. You’re not.”

“I should.” He states it as fact. “You’re not for me, and taking what you’re offering is a shitty thing to do.” Jonas inhales deeply. “Just a taste, baby girl. Just a taste and that will have to be enough.”

Enough for who?

It’s sure as hell not going to be enough for me.

8

I don’t get an answer because Jonas is sliding down to settle between my thighs. He gives me one last long look. “Be quiet, Blake. If you make too much noise, I have to stop.”

“I’ll be quiet. I promise,” I whisper.

My resolve doesn’t last through the first drag of his tongue over my pussy. A whimper works its way past my lips despite my best efforts. Jonas doesn’t stop. He dips one hand beneath my shirt to press against my stomach, holding me in place as he explores my pussy with his mouth just as thoroughly as he did with his fingers. Tracing and teasing and nowhere near enough to get me over the edge. The fact that my orgasm doesn’t seem to be his aim in this moment only makes this sexier. He’s not doing this to get me off so we can hurry up and fuck. He’s savoring me, lingering over my taste the way someone does over expensive whiskey or a favorite dessert.

Another whimper slips free.

I barely register that he’s gone still before he’s moving up my body and settling between my thighs. Jonas digs one hand into my hair and pulls my head to the side a bit. He drags his mouth along the bared line of my neck, his words low and rough and just for me. “I told you to be quiet, Blake.”

“I’m sorry.” But I’m not. As much as I love his mouth on me, the feeling of his weight pressing me into the mattress is so much better. I roll my hips, seeking his cock, but he stops me easily, pinning my lower body with his.

“No, you’re not.” He sets his teeth against the spot he just kissed. “You’re not even a little sorry.”

He’s right. I’m not. I like pushing him.

My hands are pinned between us, trapped between our stomachs. I’ve played with bondage a bit over the years, but this feels entirely different. It’s almost primal. I want him to overpower me, to hold me down and fuck me into submission, to… I simply want everything.

“Jonas,” I breathe.

“Yeah?”

“I’m not going to be able to keep quiet.” I hesitate. “Cover my mouth.”

“Cover your mouth,” he repeats.

A bolt of pure lust overrides any thought. “Yes.” I nod as much as I’m able with his hold on my hair. “Cover my mouth. Hold me down. Fuck me.”

His chuckle is a rasp against my skin. “You would like that, wouldn’t you?”

I blink at the ceiling. Of course I’d like that. It’s why I brought it up. “Yes?”

“Cover your mouth and hold you down while I fuck you.” Another drag of his mouth against my throat. “Then you can pretend that you’re still a good girl. That you’re not a little slut who’s fucking a man she barely knows in her parents’ house. That you’re not dripping for my cock.”

The rough words have me moaning, and that’s when he moves again. Jonas releases my hair and covers my mouth with a rough hand. His lips brush the shell of my ear. “I’m not going to hold you down, Blake. You don’t get to pretend you’re anything but eager for what I’m giving you.”

He raises himself enough that I have no choice but to move my hands. I tentatively place them on his hips and slide them beneath his shirt to touch bare skin. Jonas releases a rough breath at my touch. “That’s right. Now be a good girl and lift your hips.”

My blood has turned to fire. I dig my heels into the mattress and lift my hips as he shifts back enough that his cock notches at my entrance. Jonas’s hand over my mouth tenses. “You gave this pussy to me, baby girl. That means if I want to fuck it bare, that’s what I’m going to do. You’re going to love every moment of it. Isn’t that right?” He lifts his hand just enough for me to answer.

It doesn’t matter that we already discussed birth control and test results before this moment. We’re playing a game, and in this game he’s going to fuck me dirty as if he doesn’t give a shit about the potential consequences. As if I’m a plaything for him, a possession to be toyed with until he’s wrung out every bit of enjoyment.

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Good girl.” He covers my mouth again and lowers his lips to my ear. “You remember the rules, Blake?”

If it’s too much, I tell him.

I could remind him that there’s nothing about this that’s too much, that I meant it when I said I want him to do whatever he wants with me. That we’re playing a game I’m only too happy to participate in.

I don’t. I simply nod against his hand.

Jonas shifts, the head of his cock pressing against my entrance. He’s big, wide, and thick. I can’t stop a whimper as he sinks into me a little, stretching me almost uncomfortably wide despite my earlier orgasm.

“None of that, baby girl. You can take it.” For all his rough words, he goes achingly slowly, tiny strokes that wedge his cock into me a fraction of an inch at a time. It feels never-ending. “You’re so fucking tight.”

The words almost make me laugh. Of course I feel tight when he’s so huge. I slide my hands down his hips and beneath the jeans he’s still wearing to his ass. The fact that I’m still wearing the shirt and he’s still got his clothes on only makes this fantasy hotter. As if he really did just wander into the wrong room and decide to take me up on what I’m offering. As if my family is right down the hallway, totally unaware of the way my father’s best friend is wedging his cock into my pussy, deeper and deeper with each passing second.

I moan again, the sound trapped against Jonas’s palm. He sinks the rest of the way into me in response. Only then does he go still, allowing me to adjust to his size. It doesn’t take long. After all, he wasn’t lying when he said I’m practically dripping for him. I shift a little, experimenting with the feel of him inside me.

“All those little whimpers and shakes and, here you are, taking my entire cock.” I can’t see his face in our current position, but I don’t need to in order to hear how coldly amused he is. I clench around him in response. Jonas curses again. “We have to be quiet. Can’t have the headboard giving us away.”

I nod again. I’m panting, my breath coming too fast, too hard. How does he know exactly what to say in order to set me aflame? It’s dirty and all kinds of wrong, but it’s fantasy and fantasy can’t hurt anyone. It can only bring us pleasure.

Jonas begins to fuck me, a long slow withdrawal and an equally slow advance. The bed barely moves. I can’t move. He slips his free arm beneath the small of my back, lifting my hips and…holy shit…that angle has him dragging against my G-spot. He knows it, too. Instead of the deep strokes he’s been doing, he works the tip of his cock against that spot inside me until I’m moaning with each move. Even with his hand covering my mouth, I’m not being quiet. I’m not even trying.

Pleasure coils tighter and tighter through me, centering where he works my G-spot. I’m so fucking close, I’m getting lightheaded. So…fucking…close.

I don’t mean to dig my nails into his ass. I really don’t. He growls against my neck and surges forward, impaling me to the hilt. I let loose a little scream, but Jonas ignores it. “It’s like that, is it?” He hitches my hips higher, sinking even deeper into me. “You need more.”

I’m already nodding. “Fuck me.” The words are muffled, but clear.

Jonas curses. “We’re going to get caught.” He pulls back and slams into me. The headboard gives a dull thump against the wall, the sound feeling much louder than it actually is. Because someone could hear. Because we’re giving ourselves away.

He does it again. “But you don’t care about being caught, do you? All you care about is getting this cock as deep inside you as possible. Dirty. Little. Slut.”

How can he turn words that should be harsh into something that’s an endearment? I don’t understand it, but I’m not about to question it.

“Do you hear someone coming down the hallway?” he murmurs against my ear. “If they open this door, they’re not going to be able to pretend we’re doing anything but fucking.” His hand tenses on my mouth and then he’s fucking me harder, the sound of flesh meeting flesh twining with the headboard hitting the wall. “I don’t give a damn. I’m not going to stop.”

“Don’t stop,” I moan.

“I won’t.” His fingers dig into my jaw. Not enough to hurt, but he’s losing control. That knowledge drives my lust higher, lures my orgasm closer. “Your pussy is too good. I can’t stop fucking you. No matter who walks into this room. Not until you come and I fill you up. That’s what you want, isn’t it, dirty girl? For me to fuck you all night and then for you to go to breakfast with your parents all filled up with my come. If you were quiet, they wouldn’t know what a little slut you’ve been.” He curses and drives into me harder. “But you can’t be quiet, can you? Fuck. We’re going to get caught.”

9

We’re going to get caught.

My orgasm sweeps me under. I scream against his palm and surge up, trying to take him deeper. Jonas immediately understands what I need. He wrenches my leg higher and keeps fucking me, one orgasm rolling into a second as he follows me over the edge, his strokes getting harsher and rougher until he grinds into me, filling me up just like he promised.

I expect him to move back, to put some distance between us, but Jonas releases my leg and settles more firmly between my legs. He carefully removes his hand from my mouth and leans back enough to study my expression. Whatever shell-shocked expression is on my face must satisfy him, because he drifts his fingers across the damp hair at my temple. “You’re terrible at following instructions, baby girl.”

“Sorry?”

“No, you’re not.”

A goofy smile pulls at the edges of my lips. “No, I’m not.” I give his ass a squeeze and coast my hands up under his shirt to the muscles of his back. I sigh a little. “I would really like you to be naked, Jonas.”

“You’ve been disobedient from the very start, and you keep making demands.” His gaze drops to my mouth, which is right around the moment when I realize that he hasn’t kissed me. Something akin to disappointment lodges in my chest, but with my body still practically vibrating from the pleasure of those orgasms, it feels flimsy at best. Who cares if he’s not a kisser? He’s giving me what I wanted; asking for more would just be greedy.

I feel extremely greedy right now.

I lick my lips, watching him watch the movement. “Are you going to…punish me?”

“Do you think you deserve it?”

“Probably.” I can’t help a giddy little laugh. “After all, I’ve disappointed you.”

Jonas strokes my temple again, his expression going contemplative. I can’t tell what’s part of the game and what’s reality in this moment. He’s looking at me like he can pull my thoughts directly out of my head. I could tell him it’s pointless to put in that much work; I’m more than happy to share what I’m thinking. But he’s leading this interaction, has been from the moment he walked into the room and found me with my fingers in my pussy, sniffing his pillow like some kind of horny fool.

Honestly, it’s kind of a relief.

After being in charge of my father’s company for six long months, I am exhausted. I’m tired of making all the calls, all day, every day. Handing over the reins for a weekend filled with roleplaying and pleasure is something I’m only too happy to do. Especially if the rest of the time with Jonas is like this.

He seems to come to a decision and his mouth goes hard. “I ought to put you over my knee.”

There’s no way he misses how my pussy clenches in response to that statement. I grin up at him. “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

“You’re no more sorry now than you were the last time you apologized.” But he doesn’t move back. In fact, I’m mildly shocked to feel his cock hardening inside me again. Jonas thrusts a little. It’s an easier fit now that he’s made room for himself. Still tight enough to steal my breath, but there’s none of the almost-pain that put such a delicious edge on my pleasure.

He glances at the closed door. “I suppose since all that racket didn’t wake up anyone, we can save your punishment for later.”

Just like that, we’re back in the game. It doesn’t matter that this room looks nothing like my childhood one or that we’re alone. Nothing matters but the fantasy we spin around each other. I stroke my hands down his back and arch a little against him. “I can be quiet this time.”

“I don’t believe you.” There’s amusement in his tone, a benevolent softening that is just as intoxicating as his disappointment. “However, I’m willing to give you one more chance.”

I already know I’m going to fail. I already anticipate whatever he’ll do in response to that failure.

I’m nodding before he’s finished speaking. “Yes.”

Jonas eases out of me. The loss of him draws a whimper that earns me a sharp look. He climbs to his feet and glances at the door one last time. “It’s a bad idea to keep going.” He refocuses on me, his attention landing on my pussy where I’m still bared from the waist down. “I don’t think I give a fuck.”

He pulls his shirt over his head. God, he’s even sexier than I imagined. His muscles aren’t exactly carved from stone, but he obviously works out and just as obviously uses that body for more than just repetitions in the gym. His pants quickly follow and my mouth waters at his thighs. The man does not skip leg day, and I appreciate that more than I can say. “Turn around.”

Jonas blinks. “Excuse me?”

Shit, that came out like a command, didn’t it? I prop myself up on my elbows and give him what I hope is a sweet look. “Please, Daddy. Will you turn around for me?”

For a moment, I think he might deny me, but he finally sighs out an irritated breath and spins a slow circle. I had my hands all over his ass, but seeing how perfectly grabbable it is has me biting my bottom lip. “You’re sexy.”

“You’re trouble.” He eyes the bed and, with another sigh, yanks the comforter and sheets off it. “Better to limit the sheets we’re ruining to the fitted one.” Jonas climbs onto the bed and positions himself against the headboard. “Come here.”

I crawl to him and have to bite down a little sound when he grabs my hips and hauls me up to straddle him. I start to lift myself up to take his cock, but he shakes his head, a line appearing between his brows. “So impatient.”

“You’re welcome?” I make a face. I’m horribly afraid that I’m pouting, but this man brings out the brat in me. “Sorry that I’m eager to ride your cock.”

“Blake.” The little snap he puts in my name has me straightening my spine. Jonas gives the shirt I’m wearing a dirty look. “Take it off.”

Now it’s my turn to hesitate. To glance at the door. “If I do, then anyone who walks in will know exactly what we’re doing.”

“As opposed to what we were doing before.” He rests his hands on my knees and curls his fingers around to hook the back of them. A light touch, but possessive all the same. One yank and I’ll be plastered against him. Jonas tilts his head to the side, studying me. “Were you caught with your boyfriends when you lived in your parents’ home?”

“Bold of you to assume that I had only boyfriends.”

He nods in concession, his lips curving a little. “I stand corrected.”

I shift, but he hardens his grip, keeping me in place and preserving the distance between his cock and my pussy. Apparently we’re having this conversation until he’s satisfied. I huff out a breath. “I had a lot of sleepovers with girlfriends before I came out to my parents. Boys weren’t allowed overnight, but I had boyfriends over enough to learn how to play innocent when someone walked on the creaky board down the hall.”

“You snuck around enough to get good at it.” A mild statement, but it stings deliciously all the same.

I shrug. “I like sex. I have since I started having it. And I didn’t move out until I was twenty-two, so it’s not like I was living as a saint while in my parents’ house.”

“Obviously,” he says drily with a pointed look at our current positions. “One would have assumed with all that experience that you learned how to be quiet.”

I open my mouth, but reconsider arguing. Instead I shrug and give him a statement both true and meant to incite. “It’s never been a problem before.”

Heat flares in his blue eyes. “Liar.”

“I’m not.” I give into the urge to slide my hands up his chest, reveling in the light dusting of blond hair there. “Just like I’ve never called anyone Daddy before. Just like I’ve never come so hard before.”

“Dirty little liar.” He traces his thumbs over my knees, making me shiver. “Do you often seduce your father’s friends?”

Is there a note of jealousy there? Hard to say. But the new tone in his voice wasn’t there when I talked about my boyfriends and girlfriends. I find that I like the idea of Jonas being just a little jealous. “Does it matter if I have?”

10

I wrap my fingers around one of Jonas’s wrists, and he lets me slide his hand up my thigh and between my legs. “Would it bother you if I let one of my father’s friends do this to me?” I rub myself against his palm, secretly delighted in the way he allows it to happen but doesn’t encourage me in the least. “Does it make you jealous?”

Jonas’s brows draw together. “Tell me something, baby girl.”

I shiver at his forbidding tone. “What do you want to know?”

“Are any of them palming your pussy right now?”

I shiver harder. “No, Daddy.”

“Are you about to ride any of their cocks right now?”

I lick my lips. “No, Daddy,” I repeat.

Jonas leans forward until our faces are a breath apart. “Then why would I give a fuck about it one way or another?”

I can’t tell if I’m disappointed that he’s not jealous or if I’m delighted by how few fucks he gives. “Noted.”

His wrist tenses in my grip and that’s the only warning I get. He spears me with two fingers and catches the back of my neck with his other hand. Once again, he’s not anywhere close to hurting me, but I am held immobile all the same. Jonas presses his forehead to mine, another tether to bind us together. “With that said.” His exhale ghosts against my lips. “As long as this pussy is mine, no one else touches you without my permission. Got it?”

“Got it,” I breathe. I’m not normally one to find overly possessive stuff sexy, but there’s something about knowing that it’s limited to this fantasy that removes all the barriers. I revel in it. “I won’t touch anyone else. I promise.”

“I don’t know if I believe you. You seem to like breaking my rules.” His fingers pulse inside me. “And I’m the fool who can’t get enough of you despite it.”

I don’t know what I’d say in response because Jonas kisses me. No, he possesses my mouth just like he’s possessing my body right now. As if he owns lips and tongue and teeth the same way he owns my pussy.

I can’t get enough. I wrap my arms around his neck and try to get as close as he’ll allow me. It brings me up against his hold, and the fact that he’s holding me away from closing that last little bit of distance while still plundering my mouth is almost too much to bear. When he finally lifts his head, I’m breathing hard and far too close to begging. “Jonas,” I breathe his name, barely more than a whisper, but he tenses under me as if I screamed it instead.

He releases my neck, the shock of the break in contact nearly making me miss the gentle way he brushes my hair back from my face. He leans against the headboard once more. “Take off the shirt.”

I grab the hem and lift slowly. I’m not exactly trying to tease him, but the sight of his fingers buried inside me short circuits something in my brain. It’s only when he clears his throat that I remember what I’m supposed to be doing and raise the shirt another few inches.

God, the way Jonas watches me.

I thought he devoured me with his gaze downstairs when we were arguing about business. It’s nothing compared to now. He’s looking at me like I’m his in truth, a toy he’s impatient to get out of the box so he can play with it to his heart’s content. It makes me slow down again with the shirt just below my breasts. When he growls, I grin. “Problem?”

“Take off the fucking shirt, Blake.”

There’s something about the way he says my name that sends a bolt of heat straight to my pussy. I roll my hips a little bit, fucking his fingers. As much as I want to keep teasing him, the truth is that I’m just as impatient as he is. I pull the shirt over my head and toss it aside.

“There you are,” he breathes. I don’t think he means to say it, but he’s too distracted by my bare breasts to realize he’s spoken aloud. I relish that loss of control just like I have every other sign since we started this game.

I cup my breasts, lifting them a bit. I tease my nipples to hard points beneath his heated gaze. “Do you like what you see?”

“Yeah. I like what I see.” He withdraws his hand and stares at me long enough that I start squirming with impatience. Jonas gives my hip an idle smack. “Don’t rush me.”

“What happened to your not wanting to get caught?”

He shakes his head slowly as if trying to focus. “You’re one hell of a distraction.” Another shake of his head and he’s closing off his expression. I relish the change even as I kind of miss how affected he is just by the sight of my naked body. It’s a heady thing. Jonas finally grasps my hips and pulls me forward. “You’re right. We’re taking too long.”

“Sor—”

“Don’t you dare apologize to me when you don’t mean it.”

I snap my mouth shut. Jonas gives me one last long look. “Get up here and take this cock before I change my mind.”

“Yes, Daddy.” I make a vague approximation of meekness as I shift and up and allow him to guide me to his cock.

Allow him to guide me? What a joke. I all but throw myself onto him. I need him inside me and I need it now. No matter how fun the back and forth is, the fact remains that I’m nowhere near sated. It’s like a chant through my brain that I can’t shrug off. More, more, more, give me more. More of the fantasy. More of Jonas.

This angle is so different from missionary. He had all the control before, could choose how to give me his size. Now, once he has me poised over him, he changes his grip on my hips and allows me to descend at my pace. It seems a small mercy.

Or at least it does until he breaches my entrance.

I thought it would be easier to take him the second time. I was wrong. Horribly, delightfully wrong. I manage to get the head of his cock into me, but it’s not as simple as sliding down his length to take him completely. I have to work for it.

Jonas, the bastard, merely watches me with a raised brow as if silently demanding to know why I’m wasting both our time with this bullshit.

I brace my hands on his shoulders and sink another inch onto him. “I’m trying.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You don’t have to say it,” I mutter. “You’re so goddamn smug. Yes, Daddy, your cock is fucking huge. Are you happy now?”

His hands tighten on my hips. “I’ll be happy when you stop teasing me and take this cock, baby girl. Or were you just talking a big game before?” His voice goes drier yet. “Boyfriends. Girlfriends. You like sex so much, you have it whenever you get a chance to, even with your parents down the hall. And yet, here you are, fighting to take me like it’s your first time.”

Shame heats my skin. His words are perfectly curated, perfectly inflected to sting. I grip his shoulders and work myself down another few inches. I almost have all of him now. It shouldn’t be so hot that I can’t simply take him. It shouldn’t be…but it is.

I roll my hips. Finally, a small eternity later, I have us sealed together. I’m panting and his hands have the slightest tremor that betrays how affected he is by this whole thing. How hard he’s fighting to make me do this instead of taking over. All in the name of delivering the fantasy.

“You feel good,” I breathe. When he doesn’t respond, I lean forward and press my breasts to his chest. “You know what that means, right? We just have to keep fucking until I can take your cock easily.”

He shifts his grip to my ass and uses it to grind me down onto him. Sparks of pleasure dance behind my lids, but Jonas gives me no mercy. “There you go again, tempting me with something I shouldn’t want.” He keeps me moving on him, no longer pretending that he’s anything other than in control of this moment. “Pussy so good, it’s enough to drive a man like me out of his fucking mind.”

I drag in a breath. “Really?”

“Yeah.” He thrusts up as he drags me down, sinking so deep, I swear I can feel him in the back of my throat.

“Oh fuck.”

Just like that, it all stops. He holds me immobile, a forbidding look on his face. “What did I tell you, Blake?”

11

I blink at Jonas, my pleasure-drugged brain struggling to figure out what the hell he’s talking about. “What?” He lifts me off his cock and practically tosses me facedown on his lap. I bounce a little on the mattress, my sound of surprise morphing into a yelp when Jonas brings his hand down on my ass. It’s not a particularly harsh hit, but it stings like a motherfucker. “Wait!”

He pauses, one hand spread on my lower back, holding me in place. “Yes?”

Understanding dawns in the midst of my confusion. He’s waiting for me to tell him if I want this to stop or if I’m willing to keep playing. I inhale slowly. Earlier, I told him I don’t mind spanking, and I meant it. He just surprised me. I force myself to hesitate a beat to ensure that’s really how I feel, but there’s nothing but lust coursing through my veins. I turn my head so I can see him. “Please don’t punish me. I’m sorry.”

“You keep saying that word. I think we have differing definitions of the word ‘sorry.’”

I make a face. “You had a perfect opportunity for a Princess Bride quote and you butchered it.”

“Ah.” His lips shift as if he’s fighting down a smile. I don’t get a chance to relish that I almost just made him laugh despite himself because he brings his hand down across my ass again. And again. And again. They’re strikes meant to sting, to provoke a response, not to bruise.

That doesn’t stop me from struggling and whimpering with each contact. “Daddy, please!”

“You’re still being too loud.” This time, when he spanks me, he doesn’t immediately lift his hand. Jonas squeezes my smarting ass. The firm contact has me squirming in an entirely different way. It’s as if the spanking sensitized my skin to the point where I can feel every methodical squeeze in my clit. “Do I need to cover your mouth again?”

“Yes.”

He sighs. “You answered that too quickly.”

“Did I?” I can’t help lifting my hips a little, a clear invitation that he ignores. “Sorry.”

This time, he can’t hold in a chuckle. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Easy answer: fuck me senseless.” I’m not even playing a role right now. I’m just enjoying myself.

Jonas lifts me, moving me as easily as he would a doll, and arranges me on his lap, facing away from him. “Keep an eye on the door.” He doesn’t wait for a response. He just positions his cock at my entrance and then grips my hips, dragging me down his length. It’s quicker than last time, but my body has finally adjusted to him. Once he’s seated deep within me, he covers my mouth with one hand and guides me back to lean against his chest. The position arches my back, putting me on display for anyone who might walk into the room.

He skates his free hand down my stomach and presses his fingers to my clit. “Now be a good girl and ride your Daddy’s cock.”

The words set me in motion with a sound that almost like a sob. I can’t move a lot in this position, but I waste no time rolling my hips and fucking him as much as I’m able. Each stroke has my clit rubbing against his hand. I’m already primed from the fantasy, from the earlier sex and orgasms. It takes no time at all before I’m dancing on the edge of another one.

I slow down. I want this to last as long as possible, and that means I can’t come too soon.

Except Jonas tightens his grip on my face the slightest amount. “Playing games?”

“No.” The muffled word is still clear enough.

“I think you are. You don’t want to give me your orgasm?” He laughs roughly. “Fine. I’ll just take it.” He lifts his free hand and allows me to turn my head enough to watch him take two fingers into his mouth, wetting them. Then they’re back at my clit, slippery and sinful. I try to hold still, to fight the orgasm, but it doesn’t matter if I’m riding his cock because he’s so damn deep inside me and his fingers are so clever against my clit. He winds me tighter and tighter, and then it’s too late. I orgasm hard, sobbing into his palm and slumping back against his chest.

“Better,” he murmurs. “You fight me, but we both understand that I know what’s best.”

I might have some choice words about him thinking that waiting six years to do this is what’s best, but I don’t quite have control of my body right now to speak them. I’m too busy riding the aftermath of the pleasure he’s dealt me.

Jonas shifts my hair off my neck and presses an open-mouthed kiss to my nape. It makes me shiver and moan, so he does it again. “I’m going to fuck you now, baby girl.”

That wakes me from my pleasure daze. “What?” I grab his wrist and leverage his hand off my mouth. I barely remember to keep my voice down. “What the hell have we been doing this entire time?”

“Getting you ready.” The pure satisfaction in his voice sends a tremor through me.

Getting me ready.

So he can fuck me like he wants to without worrying that he’ll hurt me. Oh shit, why is that so hot? I drag in a rough breath. “Okay.” He lifts me off him and climbs to his knees. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out where we’re headed. I hesitate. “If you take me from behind, you’re going to be even deeper.”

“Mmhmm.” He nudges my legs wide and presses a hand to the middle of my back, urging me down to press my cheek to the mattress. “You can take it.”

“I’m not so sure.”

Another of those dark chuckles. “You’re a hell of a boost for an old man’s ego, baby girl.”

“It’s not an ego boost if it’s true.” I tense as his cock breaches my entrance. “And you’re not old—holy fuck.” He shoves the rest of the way into me. Almost too big…but not quite.

A pillow lands by my head. “If you need to scream, do it into the pillow.”

“Arrogant ass.” But I do as he says and wrap my arms around the pillow in front of my face. Jonas doesn’t remind me to tell him if it’s too much, and I appreciate that he seems to be finally trusting me to communicate with him. Or maybe he’s simply too lost in this moment. He grips my hips and eases out of me almost all the way, an achingly slow retreat that almost lulls me into thinking that this will be like last time.

It’s not.

When just the head of his cock is inside me, he tightens his hold on my hips and hauls me back onto his length as he thrusts forward. The dull pain is back, adding spice to my pleasure, and I bury my face in the pillow. He doesn’t stop. He doesn’t slow down. Jonas just keeps fucking me hard enough that the rough sound of flesh meeting flesh fills the room; a perfect counterpart for my muffled moans, for the dull thud of the headboard.

“Everyone in this house is going to know what we’re doing.” He curses and grinds deep into me. “They’re going to know I’m balls deep in this perfect fucking pussy and I don’t give a shit about being caught.” Another series of rough strokes that have a deep and steady pressure building in my lower body. “It doesn’t matter. You feel too good to stop.” He pounds into me, hard and intense. Almost like he’s punishing me for making him want me.

I turn my head enough to say. “Don’t stop. Don’t ever stop.”

His laugh contains barbed wire and razor blades. “You’re about to come all over my cock, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” I moan. This orgasm is different from the others. It’s coming on too strong, too intensely. It’s almost scary, and I try to slow down.

Jonas is having none of it. He uses his hold on my hips to force me to keep up the pace. To drive me right over the edge and into oblivion. I bury my face in the pillow and scream, but he doesn’t stop. He just keeps fucking me until my body clenches and I squirt all over him.

He curses and loses his rhythm, bearing me down to the bed and fucking furiously into me as he chases his own orgasm. He wraps his arms around me, holding me close as he shoves deep and comes. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

I don’t have the energy to laugh. I don’t have the energy to do anything except lay here and let him wrap me up as pleasure keeps pulsing through my body. “No more.” I whimper. “I can’t take any more.”

“You’re done when I say you’re done.”

12

Despite the harsh words, Jonas buries his face in my neck and kisses the sensitive skin there. He rolls us onto our side, takes a moment to adjust my legs so he’s not crushing me, and then pulls me back against his chest. His cock is still twitching inside me. Every time it pulses, I give a little twitch of my own. I’m so over-sensitized, I’m not sure if it’s too much or if it’s just going to wind me back up again.

I’m shaking and I can’t seem to stop. “Jonas.”

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs.

Maybe I should feel caged by him right now. He’s got me tangled up tightly enough for the term to fit. I don’t, though. Instead, it’s almost like he’s made a safe cocoon between me and the rest of the world. A strange thought, but there’s no denying how safe I feel in this moment.

How safe I’ve felt from the very start of this.

It’s several long minutes before our bodies cool and my heart rate returns to something approximating normal. Jonas presses another kiss to my throat. “Think your legs will hold you?”

“You say stuff like that and then claim that I’m the one responsible for your big ego.”

He gives me a squeeze and disentangles himself from my body. I can’t quite shove down a whimper in response. I’m a little sore and a lot tired, but it’s like he’s a fever in my blood. I’m suddenly terrified that I’ll never get enough of him.

No, that’s ridiculous. Of course I’ll get enough of him. It’s just that he was right earlier when he said a single night won’t be enough. That’s all.

He climbs to his feet and then offers his hand. I kind of want to slap it away just to see what he’ll do, but I’m wobbly enough to worry that I won’t be able to stand without help. He tugs me to my feet and gives me a nudge toward the bathroom. “I’m going to change the sheets. Get the shower started.”

“You know, we’re not fucking right now. You don’t have to take the bossy tone.”

He gives me a long look. “I was under the impression that you knew who you invited into bed with you, Blake. The fantasy might be an amped up version of it, but this is me.”

I did know that. Jonas has one hell of a reputation for being unyielding, to the point where my father jokes about it all the time. I’ve seen evidence of that myself, both six years ago and with his refusal to my business offer. I lift my chin. “I’m aware of the fact that you’re a cantankerous grouch and set in your ways.”

He raises his brows. “A cantankerous grouch.”

“Tell me it’s not the truth.” I continue before he can respond. “That wasn’t my point, by the way. You can be the bossy ass all you want, but understand that I’m not going to roll over and play obedient baby girl when we’re not doing…” I wave my hand vaguely at the bed.

If anything, his brows arch higher. “Your definition of obedient is as flawed as your definition of sorry.”

“That’s the second time you had a chance to quote the Princess Bride and just let the opportunity pass you by.” I shake my head. “What am I going to do with you, Jonas?”

“I’m sure you’ll come up with more than a few ideas.” He’s still looking at me as if trying to figure out what I want. “I’m not asking for unquestioning obedience, Blake. I’m not interested in that—not this weekend, and not in general. But we’re both sweaty and covered in come. We’ll sleep better with a shower and clean sheets.”

I start to respond, but pause when I realize what he’s implying. “We’re sleeping together?”

That stops him short. He frowns. “I’d assumed…” Jonas glances at the bed. “If you’d be more comfortable with me on the couch—”

“No!” I try to temper my tone, to shove the enthusiasm down to a more moderate level. “No, that’s not what I want. I’m just realizing that we didn’t talk much about what this weekend would look like other than the whole ‘this pussy is mine’ thing.”

He shrugs. “It looks like what you want it to look like.”

Now it’s my turn to frown. “That’s not an answer.”

“I know.” Jonas drags his hand through his hair. “I didn’t exactly plan on this on any level. There’s no reason for us not to sleep in the same bed.” He gives me a slow smile that has butterflies erupting in my stomach. “Besides, I like eating pussy first thing in the morning. You on board with that?”

I blink. “Is that a trick question?”

“No.”

I blink again. “Has anyone ever said that they don’t want to wake up coming on your mouth?”

“Blake.” Jonas has that tone again, the exasperated imperial one. “Answer the question.”

I could remind him that I already signed up for damn near anything he wants to do to me, but I kind of like how he’s continually checking in. No matter how cranky he is normally or how much the asshole he plays when we fuck, Jonas has a nurturing streak that makes my chest feel funny. It’s such a contrast, but no less genuine than the other sides of him.

So I give him an honest answer. “I would very much like to wake up to your mouth all over my pussy, Daddy.”

His gaze drops to my mouth and then he’s stalking toward me and yanking me into his arms. “I ought to put that disobedient mouth to good use.”

My jaw is still a little achy from sucking his cock earlier, but I don’t give a fuck. “If you think that would help.”

“No, baby girl.” He clasps my throat in a light grip and guides my face up to his. “I don’t think anything but fucking you just shy of comatose will help, and even then you’ll find a way to mouth off.”

“Probably,” I whisper.

“Definitely.” Jonas kisses me. It’s nothing like the kiss earlier. Before, he was branding me as his. This feels like… Almost like he’s simply enjoying himself. Enjoying me.

He lifts his head far too soon. “Shower, Blake. Before I change my mind.”

I’m weaving on my feet a little, but I’m not about to let something as mundane as exhaustion stop me. I run my hands up his chest. “Would it be so bad to change your mind?”

He snorts and turns me toward the bathroom, giving me a little push. “Shower.”

“Yes, Daddy,” I say sweetly. I think I hear him cursing under his breath, but the truth is that a shower sounds like heaven. Especially his shower. I’ve wanted to turn on the facets and see if it’s designed exactly as I suspect.

Five minutes later, Jonas finds me standing in the shower, just outside the spray of water. “What are you doing?”

“I’m mad at you.”

He frowns. “What?”

I motion at the perfectly constructed shower. “This. This is amazing. The tile work and the way you arranged the shower heads and… Fuck, Jonas, I’m furious I didn’t think of this first.”

“I’m hardly the first person to do something like this,” he says mildly as he nudges me beneath the spray.

I duck my head under the water for a moment and then I’m staring at him instead of the shower. Water runs down the lines of his chest and hips and I’m not polite enough not to stare at his cock. He’s still half-hard, which is nearly as unbelievable as this shower. I shake my head and try to focus. “You might not be the first, but this is really Grade A design and don’t pretend otherwise.”

He shrugs. “It’s what I do.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to remind him that he could be doing it for the Hendersons, but I manage to swallow the words at the last moment. He already said no, and at this point I doubt he’s going to change his mind. Pestering him about it will just muddy up what we have going right now. I’d rather enjoy this weekend and then hit the ground running on Monday with a new plan for that account.

I focus on using his soap to wash off. In typical bachelor fashion, he has some two-in-one shampoo conditioner thing that makes me cringe a little, but I can’t deny that it smells like sexy man. Or maybe it’s just that I will forever associate Jonas with this scent. I bet I can buy some of this when I get home, just in case I need another hit during a dry spell.

No, that’s not normal. That’s a weird thing to do. Even weirder than masturbating while sniffing his pillow.

I really, really can’t believe I did that.

We finish up showering, and I’m only slightly disappointed that he doesn’t try something. The truth is that the day is catching up with me, and exhaustion has attached weights to my body. I’m practically stumbling by the time I braid my hair and make it back into the bedroom.

Jonas didn’t stop at changing the sheets. He made the entire bed again. Of course he did.

He pulls back the comforter and glances at me. “Do you have a specific side to sleep on?”

“Not really.”

“I’ll take this side then.”

It’s only when I climb beneath the covers that I realize he’s between me and the door. There’s absolutely no reason to look into that. I’m sure it’s simply the side he always sleeps on. Still, something warm and strange takes up residence in my chest. It only gets stronger when Jonas rolls toward me, and without a word, tugs me back until he’s spooning me.

I fall asleep surrounded by him, feeling totally and completely safe…and wake up with Jonas’s tongue in my pussy.

13

I stretch a little, which has Jonas bracketing my thighs and pushing them wide in response. There’s a sliver of dim light shining through the curtains, but rain still hammers the windows as violently as it did last night. “What time is it?” I keep my voice low, not wanting to break the strange feeling that permeates the room. As if we’re in an alternate reality, population Jonas and me.

He gives my pussy another long lick and raises his head enough to say, “Early. Go back to sleep.”

“Oh, sure thing. I’ll get right on that.” I trail off in a moan as he resumes thoroughly kissing my pussy. It’s slow and decadent as if he has no plans to be anywhere else but between my thighs for the foreseeable future. I stretch my arms over my head. Better to simply enjoy this and let pleasure sweep me away than to think too hard about what today brings.

But then, I’ve never been good at being a passive partner.

He rubs the flat of his tongue against my clit. I reach down and slide my fingers through his hair. “That feels really, really good.”

“Tastes even better,” he murmurs against me. He shifts back and pushes two fingers into me, twisting his wrist until he finds my G-spot. “Are you going to stay the weekend, Blake?”

I stare down at the sight of him penetrating me. Obviously I’ve had sex with the lights on plenty of times, but there’s something about watching Jonas’s fingers move in and out of my body, already wet with my desire, that feels particularly filthy. “I said I would.”

“I’m asking again.” He keeps fucking me with his fingers, but there’s something almost like hesitation in his tone. “Last night was a lot.”

It’s very, very difficult to focus while he’s doing this, but I don’t want him to stop. I lick my lips. “Was it too much for you?”

“No.” He exhales slowly. “I am more than happy to spend the rest of the weekend playing games with you and this pretty pussy.” He seems to force himself to stop stroking me, but he doesn’t withdraw his fingers. “But with the power dynamic, you’ll forgive me for checking in.”

I like how he issues that as a command instead of request. Even when Jonas asks me questions, it’s like he already knows the answers. At least when we’re fucking. He’s watching my face far too closely for me to believe anything but that my next words matter to him. A whole hell of a lot.

“Jonas.” I like the way his fingers flex inside me when I say his name. So I do it again. “Jonas.” I tug on his hair a little. “Do you feel how wet I am?”

He doesn’t move. “That’s not an answer.”

I ignore the quiet censure in his tone and roll my hips. I can’t properly fuck his fingers like this, but it still feels good. “So wet.” I release his hair and drop back to the bed. He still hasn’t moved, but this is hot in an entirely different way. I cup my breasts, plucking at my nipples. “I like our games. I like pretending we’re doing things we shouldn’t, and I like it when you’re disappointed in me. It gets me just as wet as I am from your tongue.” I hold his gaze. “So, no, last night wasn’t too much. It wasn’t in the realm of too much. Nothing happened to change my mind about staying.” If anything, it made me doubt that two more days will be enough to get this man out of my system.

I can’t tell him that, though. It’s my problem if I can’t separate sex and my complicated feelings for Jonas. Just like it was my problem that I’ve spent countless masturbation sessions in the last six years thinking about him instead of literally any other person on the plant. My problem, not his.

If I tell him that, though, he’ll make it his problem. I already know him well enough to know that. No one who checks in as often as he does would be willing to go forward with this if he thought my heart might get involved at some point. He’s kind of an ass, but he’s not needlessly cruel.

He finally nods. “In that case, you’re going to come on your Daddy’s tongue, and then I’m going to fuck you awake nice and slow.”

I spread my legs even wider. “That sounds nice.”

“Mmhmm.” He descends back to my pussy, withdrawing his fingers and replacing them with his tongue. I won’t get off from this alone, but it feels so delightfully filthy to have him tongue-fucking me that I moan and keep playing with my breasts. Only to have Jonas shift back and nip my thigh. “Be quiet, baby girl. No one knows I spent the night in here.”

Desire flares even hotter. I bite my bottom lip. “Then…”

“Yes?”

“Shouldn’t you be under the covers?” I make a show of looking at the door. “You know, just in case.”

He gives me a stern look. “I won’t be able to cover your mouth. You have to actually be good this time.”

“I will. I promise.”

He pulls just the sheet up over his head, letting it pool at my waist. I can still clearly see the outline of his body, but that just makes me squirm more. Because we’re doing a shitty job of being sneaky, and I love that we can’t be bothered to do it properly.

Jonas keeps up those drugging kisses to my pussy. Fucking me with his tongue and then licking his way up my folds to rub his tongue against my clit. I bite my lip hard to keep my moans inside, but I can’t hide how ragged my breathing is. Who knew I had a shame kink? Not me.

My phone rings.

We both freeze, startled at the real-world intrusion into our fantasy. I gulp in a breath. “Let me silence that.”

“Answer it.”

I lift up the sheet to stare down at him. “What?”

“If you want to.” He holds my gaze and drags his tongue over my pussy.

Oh, I want to. I twist and manage to reach the nightstand without dislodging him. Not that Jonas is going anywhere. He’s too busy eating me out as if he hasn’t a care in the world. I look at my phone and cringe. It’s the guy I went on two dates with before I realized that there just wasn’t a spark. I already told him it wouldn’t work for me, but apparently he doesn’t agree. “I’m not answering this.”

“Why not?” An idle question.

“A guy who can’t take no for an answer.”

Suddenly, I have Jonas’s full attention. “He bothering you?”

“Yes, but not like you mean.” The call goes to voicemail, and I breathe a sigh of relief. “We just went out a few times. It wasn’t there for me, but apparently he thinks he can argue his way into chemistry. We’ve had the same conversation three times and I’m over it.” In my hand, my phone starts going off again. I glare at it. “I’m going to block his number.”

“Or you could answer.” He rubs his face against my thigh. “And, just for a few minutes, you wouldn’t have to be quiet.”

Realization rolls through me. “You want to make me orgasm while he listens?”

“It’s one way to get the point across.”

I can’t stop from smiling a little. “That’s a very asshole thing to do.”

“So is calling a woman who’s not interested in you two times in a row at seven in the morning on a Saturday.”

I can’t exactly argue that. The call ends…and he immediately calls back. That decides me. I settle back on the bed. “Make me come, Daddy.” I hit the answer button and toss the phone a little to the side. I can hear the guy talking, but I don’t care because Jonas’s mouth is back on my pussy and, this time, he’s not fucking around.

14

Jonas shifts up to tongue my clit and pushes two fingers into me, unerringly finding my G-spot. Instantly, I’m melting even as pleasure surges higher. “Fuck, that feels good.” Too good. It’s coming on too fast, but I can’t stop, I don’t want to stop, I never want to stop. I orgasm hard enough to bow my back and cry out far too loud. If we weren’t alone in the house, we’d be caught for certain.

I’m not done, though.

I pull him up my body, and he doesn’t fight me as I push him onto his back and climb on top of him. I hear a tinny voice from my phone, but I don’t care about that anymore. I need Jonas inside me and I need it now. For his part, he’s meeting my frenzy and then some. His hands are everywhere, gripping my ass to pull me forward to line up with his cock, stroking up my sides, cupping my breasts so he can lean up and capture first one nipple and then the other in his mouth. The whole lower half of his face is wet from my orgasm, and I push him down and kiss him as I work myself onto his cock. The stretch feels particularly dirty—particularly good—and I don’t stop to give myself time. I simply take him all as I taste myself on his tongue.

“Fuck, baby girl, your pussy is so goddamn wet.”

“I know.” I kiss him again and then arch back so I can ride his cock. So he can watch me do it. “Wet for you.”

“That’s right. Just for me.”

I lean back and brace my hands on his muscular thighs as I fuck him. Jonas’s attention narrows on the spot where his cock disappears into my body. He gives a sound that’s almost like a growl and then he’s rolling us, pinning me to the mattress and driving deep. “You love that cock, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I gasp.

“Good, because you’re going to be riding it all fucking weekend. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes!” I dig my nails into his ass, and he responds my fucking me harder, deeper, driving us up the mattress until he has to slam his hand into the headboard to keep me from bashing into it.

“Can’t get deep enough,” he growls against my temple. “Need more.”

“You’re deeper than anyone else has ever been.” I don’t know what spurs me to say it. I’ve already said such unforgivable things, have already smudged the line between fantasy and reality. It doesn’t matter. The words pour forth, dousing us both in gasoline. “No one fucks me like you do.”

Jonas curses. “That’s right, baby girl. I’m the one who fucks you hard and dirty like you need. And I’m the one who makes you come so hard you scream.”

I turn my head and then I’m speaking in his ear, low and intense. “I love the way you treat me.”

He drives deep and grinds against me, giving my clit a delicious friction that nearly makes my eyes cross. “And how do I treat you, Blake?” He’s speaking quietly too, as we’re sharing secrets even as the sound of our fucking fills the room.

I moan and spread my legs more. “Like I’m a dirty little slut who needs my Daddy’s cock.” I gasp as his motions have pleasure sparking through me. “And my Daddy’s fingers.” I turn and nip his bottom lip. “And I really, really love waking up with my Daddy’s tongue in my pussy.”

He kisses me hard and then he’s pulling out and moving down my body again. He eats my pussy in a frenzy, messy and intense, until I come all over his face two more times. Only then does Jonas flip me over and fuck me just as hard as he did last night.

By the time we surface, the call has been disconnected for a very long time.

Eventually, though, even outstanding sex can’t distract Jonas from the way my stomach keeps growling. He stretches and gives me a long look. “Did you have dinner last night?”

I have absolutely no reason to be embarrassed by the truth, but my cheeks heat all the same. “I planned on grabbing something on my way back to the airport.”

“Thought so.” He sits up and stretches again, something in his back popping. “You eat meat?”

“Considering I had your cock in my mouth last night, I’d say that’s readily apparent.”

He snorts. “That’s not what I mean and you know it.”

“I do.” I find myself grinning as he pulls me to my feet. “But to answer your question, yes, I eat meat. I don’t have any allergies or anything, either.”

He nods. “Okay.”

Before we go to the kitchen, we detour to his walk-in closet. It’s only half full, a scattering of shirts hanging neatly next to folded jeans and sweaters. My mouth waters at the thought of him in the cream fisherman’s sweater. Jonas grabs a T-shirt and hands it to me. I don’t point out that my clothes have long since dried; the truth is that I like wearing his shirts.

Not to mention, we’re sure to be fucking again soon, and the easy access is a serious perk.

He pulls on a pair of lounge pants and leads the way downstairs. The sun is finally up, I think. Or at least the gray sky is slightly lighter, even if the rain hasn’t let up. After the relative warmth of his bedroom, the downstairs feels brisk to the point of freezing. I shiver and wrap my arms around myself.

Jonas glances at me. “I’ll get a fire going.”

“You don’t have central heat?”

“I do, but I don’t need it that often. I prefer the fireplace.” He walks to the oak chest at the back of the couch and pulls a thick blanket from it. I stand perfectly still as he comes over to wrap it around me. “It will only take a minute.”

I clutch the blanket around me and watch, my foolish heart in my throat as he gets to work. The sex has been out of this world, but this moment feels strangely soft and domestic. It feels real in an entirely different way than anything with this man has to date. Not to mention, he looks really good as he kneels and pulls wood from the metal tray thing to arrange it in the fireplace.

To distract myself, I turn and pad toward the glass door that leads to the back of the house. To the backyard.

Curiosity quickens my steps and I grin at the sight that meets me through the cool glass. I should have known that Jonas wouldn’t overly curate his grounds. There are tons of trees, but they’re all large enough to tell me that they’ve been here a very long time. It’s the wrong time of year for flowers, but I bet they’re all local, too. The only nod to design he has is the stone patio that houses a barbecue, a smoker, and a hot tub. There’s also a narrow stone path that leads into the trees, curving carefully around the trunks so it doesn’t hamper the trees’ growth.

It’s perfect.

He’s so damn good. I’ve seen portfolios of his work, and the man is always so skilled at adapting to whatever the location and client requires. He got famous for his minimalist designs, but the true genius is in the smaller projects he did over the years. They remind me of this house, though they don’t look remotely similar. But the way they capture a particular feeling is the same. It’s downright magical.

“You’re ogling my property again.”

“I am.” I say it easily, still studying the stone patio and path. “Is that local rock?”

“Yeah, they were dug up when the foundation was built, so I decided to repurpose.”

He’s so damn intentional, right down to the smallest detail. “It’s beautiful. How much property do you have?”

“A little over an acre. It seems bigger because of the trees, but without them, you’d be able to see the back fence from here.” His voice moves as he walks into the kitchen. “Don’t go wandering. It’s shitty outside and you’re not dressed for it.”

Since I was just considering stepping outside, I laugh. “Can you blame me? It’s not often I get to see a Jonas Barnett house up close and personal.” I turn in time to see him hesitate as he opens the fridge. I sigh. “I’m not bringing up business. But we’re both interested in stuff like this, so it’s silly to not even be able to talk about it.”

He shakes his head and ducks into the fridge, returning a moment later with a carton of eggs, a handful of vegetables, and some bacon. He sets them aside and then walks to the narrow door beside the fridge that reveals itself to be a pantry and disappears inside.

Curiosity takes hold again, and I wander over as he walks out. The pantry is larger inside than I expect, running a good fifteen feet down the side of the house. “Cozy,” I murmur.

“Blake.” He sounds exasperated, but in a fond sort of way. “It’s going to take me a few minutes to get this going.”

I step back into the kitchen and grin. “Does that mean you’re giving me the green light to explore?”

“Do it now, because you’re not going to have the energy for it later.”

His meaning sends a pulse of heat through me, but the thought of getting free rein of his house is too tempting to let sex distract me. I bounce to him, press a quick kiss to his lips, and head for the living room.

Exploring Jonas’s house is like hunting for treasure. The rewards are in the details. In the tile work I find in the downstairs bathroom. In the mud room with custom shelves that has a door directly into a laundry room with its own custom shelves. Each window offers another slice of the outside world, except it doesn’t look like our world at all.

Or at least it doesn’t look like my world of steel and concrete and cement. It’s peaceful here, and Jonas has expertly brought elements of that peace into this house. It’s cozy and comfortably isolated.

Then I find the study.

Three of the walls are bookshelves, and a quick perusal finds paperbacks of every genre, from thriller to romance to nonfiction. They are, of course, sorted by genre and then alphabetical within their genre. Their spines are creased from being read, and the apparent imperfection of their varied heights and colors only seems to make the office cozier. Plenty of businesspeople stock their offices with pretty books that they’ve never opened in order to create an aesthetic, but that doesn’t seem to be the case with Jonas.

And the desk. The desk is its own work of art, a huge sturdy thing that reminds me a little of the one in my father’s study. I circle it and, sure enough, see the distinctive design on the drawers that marks the craftsman. It makes sense, in a way. There are plenty of things that my father and Jonas have in common. They wouldn’t be friends otherwise.

It’s still a reminder of the strange situation I find myself in.

15

I hear footsteps and turn to find Jonas in the doorway. He should look less forbidding while shirtless, with his blond and silver hair messy from my hands, his lounge pants slung low on his hips. He should…but he doesn’t. He leans against the doorframe and crosses his arms over his chest. “Snooping?”

“Only a little.” I start working my way toward him, drifting my fingertips across the spines of the books. “You’ve read all these?”

“There’s no point of having them here if I haven’t.”

The edge in his voice sends a delicious thrill through me. I veer away from the shelves and back to stand in front of the desk. “Do you even work in here? It’s so clean, it practically shines.”

“I like things in order.” He starts moving toward me slowly. Jonas bypasses me and peers down at the surface of his desk. He sighs heavily. “Now you’ve gone and done it, baby girl.”

I barely fight down a sound of pure glee. Apparently breakfast can wait, after all. “I haven’t done anything.”

“You’ve left smudges all over my desk.” He takes one of my hands and presses it flat to the surface. “Here.” And then the other. “And here.”

“But—”

“Bend over.”

The harsh command has me obeying instantly. That and the giddy anticipation to see what he’s going to do next. He doesn’t make me wait long. Jonas catches the hem of my shirt and eases it up my ass to pool at my hips. “Blake,” he says slowly.

“Yes, Daddy?”

His hand lands on my ass, a heavy impact that isn’t quite a spank, and he squeezes me. “Were you about to finger yourself on my desk?”

The thought hadn’t even crossed my mind…but now that he’s put the idea into my head, I can picture it all too easily. Me perched on the desk with my hand between my thighs. “Only a little.”

“Only a little,” he repeats. His other hand lands on my other cheek. He keeps squeezing my ass, parting me a little more with each movement. “Were you hoping I’d catch you?”

“Maybe,” I whisper.

“Thought so.” His thumbs find the dimples at the top of my ass and press lightly. “Later today, we’re going to go upstairs and I’m going to fuck your ass.”

I jolt, going hot and cold all at the same time. “Jonas, I—”

He keeps up that light touch. “Are you about to say no because you don’t like anal? Or are you about to argue because you’re afraid my cock is too big?”

I flush hot and stammer a little. “I like anal.”

“Mmhmm. That’s what I thought.” He shifts and then his mouth is there at the small of my back. “You can take it, baby girl. Just like you took me in your pussy and your mouth.”

I’m not so certain, but I can’t think clearly with him moving down, setting his teeth against the curve of my ass. “Um. What if you’re really too big?”

Jonas chuckles. “Spread your legs wider.” He waits until I obey to continue his downward path. He stops when his breath ghosts against my pussy. “Only one way to find out if it’s true or not.”

To try it.

I shiver. “Okay.” No matter how intimidating I find the idea of taking his size there, the truth is that Jonas won’t do anything that actually hurts me. If we try it and it doesn’t work, then he’s not going to force the issue. And if it does work? I shiver again. “Okay, I want to try.”

“That’s my girl.” He changes his grip on my ass, urging me to arch my back, to give him better access to my pussy. Access he wastes no time taking advantage of, licking a long line from clit all the way up my crease. The contact makes me jump, but Jonas holds me still as he does it again, and again.

I give myself over to him, laying my head on the desk. It’s only then that I register the fact the study faces the street and that all the blinds are open. “Your neighbors are going to see.”

“Nah.” He flicks my clit with the tip of his tongue. “None of their houses face this direction.” He pauses. “But anyone driving by might get a glimpse.”

I whimper. “I know I shouldn’t want to get caught.”

“Stop that.” He leans back and delivers a stinging slap to my ass. “You want this. I want this. That’s all that fucking matters, Blake. There’s no room for shouldn’t with us. Not if we’re both getting off on it.”

He’s right. I know he’s right. I’ve just never leaned so hard into playing out dirty fantasies like this. A little kink, a little nearly-public sex, a little ‘oh, but we shouldn’t do this here.’ Nothing on this level, where I’m so immersed in our fantasy, that it’s hard to remember that there’s really no reason we shouldn’t be doing this.

No reason except that he’s my father’s best friend.

Jonas seems to be waiting for a response. I swallow hard. “I know. It’s just a little overwhelming at times.”

“Do you want to stop?” A simple question.

“No.” I straighten, and he moves back enough for me to turn around. Looking down at Jonas on his knees… I bite my bottom lip. “I like playing these games with you, Jonas. I like them a lot.” I reach out and sift my fingers through his hair, a small secret part of me delighting in the fact that I can simply touch this man whenever I like. At least for this weekend. “I wasn’t lying earlier. This is some of the best sex I’ve ever had. That’s not an accident, and it’s not because I’m anything less than one hundred percent into everything we do.”

He searches my face for a long moment, but seems to be satisfied by what he sees there. He sits back on his heels and drags his hand over his face. “I don’t exactly play these sort of games normally, either.” He drops his hand. “You bring out my perverse side.”

I grin. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Time will tell if that’s the truth or not.” He pushes to his feet as a timer goes off in the kitchen. Jonas curses. “We don’t have much time.”

“What—” I let out a startled shriek as he spins me around and bends me over the desk. I don’t have a chance to brace before his hand is between my legs, expertly reigniting the pleasure he started with his mouth. He doesn’t give me a chance to catch my breath. He simply drives me into an orgasm, merciless in his delivery of my pleasure. I come fast and hard, my legs shaking and my entire weight resting on where he’s speared me with his fingers.

“That’s an appetizer.” He eases his fingers out of me and brings them to my lips. I suck them down without hesitation, the taste of myself never so intoxicating as it is when combined with him. “We’ll get to the main course after you’ve eaten.”

16

Jonas barely gives me time to recover from my orgasm before he takes my hand and tows me into the kitchen. I take one of the bar stools as he opens the oven and pulls out a delicious smelling casserole. He examines it and nods. “Not burned.”

I’m still a little loopy from coming so fast. “You know, you could have just held off on making me come.”

“No, I couldn’t.” He sets the pan on a hot pad and gets started dividing up the casserole. My plate’s portion is much too large, but I don’t say a word as we start eating. I…like this. I like it even more once I’m finished and Jonas sits back with a sigh. “How are things going now that you’re running the company?”

I freeze in the middle of reaching for a glass of water. “I thought you didn’t want to talk business.”

“Consider it a shared interest.”

I pick up my glass and stare into the clear water. “I don’t know how to answer your question without it looking like I’m trying to angle for sympathy, so I’d rather not.”

“Blake.” He waits for me to look at him, his expression serious. “Tell me.”

I don’t mean to. I really don’t. But the truth is that I’ve kept my fears bottled up for six long months and there’s only so much sympathy my friends can offer me. They’re so sure that I’ll land on my feet. It never occurs to them that I might ruin the company my father spent half of his life building. Jonas is one of the few people who can understand, because he worked for my father for years before his brief stint as partner.

I pour out everything. The contracts that won’t renew because their faith was in my father and not in the company itself—especially now that it’s run by what they consider a little girl. It doesn’t matter that I’ve paid my dues, that I’ve learned everything my father could teach me. It certainly doesn’t matter that plenty of men who are my age and in the same type of legacy position are taken far more seriously. The little failures that have added up so quickly into a mountain I’m not sure I can climb over.

It’s only through sheer self-preservation that I manage to stop myself without talking about the Henderson account. It doesn’t matter. Jonas will know enough details about it to know that I’m failing here, as well.

He stares out the window for a long moment. “Coffee?”

I blink. “I tell you all that and all you can say in response is coffee?”

“Do you drink coffee or not, Blake?”

I cross my arms over my chest. I don’t care if I look like I’m pouting. This whole conversation has been one big minefield and I feel like Jonas just tossed me onto one without warning. “Yes, I drink coffee. Black.”

He gets up and makes quick work of it. The machine is one of those fancy ones that takes thirty seconds to brew an entire pot, so it’s only a brief pause before he slides a mug in front of me and resumes his seat. Jonas rotates his stool to face me. “Do you want the hard truth or do you want me to blow smoke up your ass?”

“I don’t need to be babied.” It’s something I’ve never asked for. Never wanted.

“In that case…” He shrugs. “You’re the reason this is happening.”

I jerk back as if he reached out and slapped me. “Wow, Jonas. Thanks for the hard truth. You think I don’t know that already?”

“Put your pride in the backseat and listen.” He arches his brows. “Or you can throw a fit and we can stop talking about this and get back to fucking.”

It would be simpler that way. I didn’t mean to confess my fears to him, and he’s obviously garbage at comfort. Still, I asked for hard truth and I need to be able to take it. I draw myself up. “Please continue.”

Something in his eyes softens a little at that, but his tone is just as no-nonsense as ever. “You are not your father, Blake. You’re trying to emulate the way he did business, and it’s not going to work. You need to find your own path and style, and that takes time. Some of those accounts are going to cancel because of a variety of reasons that are all beyond your control. Clinging to that as failure is just going to turn you into a self-fulfilling prophecy. And then you really will fail.”

“I don’t have time. If we keep losing accounts—”

“You have time. Stop prioritizing the wrong things and work on strengthening the relationships with the clients who already trust you. If you neglect them because you’re chasing the ones who are already gone, then you’re really in trouble.”

I stare. “It’s not that simple.”

“No. Fuck, no. It’s not simple. This kind of thing is why I got out of the business when I did. I’m too stubborn and I’m no good at the politicking bullshit. But your father is—and so are you. You just need to reprioritize.”

I pick up my mug, more for something to do than because the coffee is a drinkable temperature. “Doing things that way will change a lot.”

“Maybe things need to change.” He shrugs. “Victor wouldn’t have given you the company if he didn’t believe you could run it successfully. He loves the fuck out of you, but he’s not a fool. There are people whose livelihoods depend on you succeeding.”

“Thanks for that reminder,” I say faintly. “No pressure.”

He snorts. “You’re doing a hell of a job of putting pressure on yourself. Like this shit with the Henderson job.” He waves at himself. “I am not the only architect around, and I’m not even close to the best. There are plenty of up-and-coming people who can do what I do and do it better—and cheaper. You know that, but you let yourself get so afraid of failure that you stopped even registering the other options.”

He might be right. Hell, he probably is. It still stings something fierce. I set down my mug. “I really don’t want to talk about that client.”

“You have things covered, Blake. Trust yourself enough to see it through.”

Something like anger sparks in my chest. “You don’t know me. You don’t know what I do or don’t have covered.”

“I know enough.” Now it’s his turn to look away. “You don’t think Victor talks about you all the fucking time? It’s annoying as hell.”

“So sorry that news about me is annoying. You should tell my father to stop.”

“If I do that, I have to tell him why.” He looks back at me, eyes almost too intense. “Then I have to tell him that I’ve been jacking to his daughter’s taste for six fucking years, and that is not a conversation I’m ever going to have.”

Shock steals my anger. “What?”

“Is that so surprising?” He gives a smile that’s more like a grimace. “Fuck, Blake. I didn’t even hesitate last night. You gave me the green light and I had my fingers in your pussy seconds later.”

I shiver. Obviously I know he wants me. Jonas isn’t the type to have sex with someone he isn’t interested in, let alone the kind of intense sex we’ve been having. But there’s something about hearing him admit that he’s wanted me just as long as I’ve wanted him washes away what little worry I had about this. “Well, you did find me fingering myself with my face in your pillow.”

“Yeah, I did.” His lips curve a little. “Shocked the fuck out of me.”

This conversation feels a bit like walking a tightrope over a pit of crocodiles. “He talks about you a lot, too,” I finally admit. “I find it equally annoying for the exact same reasons.”

Jonas exhales slowly. “What a pair we make.”

“You can say that again.” I tentatively sip my coffee. It’s barely cool enough to drink, but that’s okay. “This is really good.”

“I know.”

Things threaten to spiral into awkwardness, so I pull together the tattered shreds of my pride. “Thank you for your advice. I’ll think about it.”

Jonas drinks his coffee, his focus on the rain falling in sheets outside the window. “You’ll figure it out one way or another.” The quiet confidence in his voice isn’t feigned. I don’t think he’d know how to feign something like that. He’s too frank, too honest. He’d never say such a thing if he didn’t mean it.

That knowledge warms me far more than it should. My parents believe in me, but they’re biased. Even when I fuck up, they act like I walk on water. It would never occur to them that I might fail. It’s the same with my friends. They offer advice when I want it, but they aren’t in this industry and don’t really know all the pitfalls awaiting me.

Jonas does.

He still has the utmost belief that I’ll figure it out.

“Thank you,” I finally manage.

“Don’t thank me. It’s the truth.” He sets his mug down and gives me his full attention. “I’d like you to do something for me.”

The heat is back in his gaze, signaling that we’re shifting into safer—sexier—territory. “Okay.”

“You’re not going to ask what it is?” He arches his brows. “You have a lot of trust in me, baby girl.”

The thing is… I do. I trust him a whole hell of a lot. Far more than I should off twelve hours of fucking. It makes sense, though. Even if I have only seen Jonas in passing since that Christmas party, he’s still a pillar in my life. An unseen one most of the time, but my father really does talk about him so much, it’s as if he’s in constantly in the room. I know far more about him than I would about some random person I’d hook up with.

I lick my lips. “What would you like me to do?”

Jonas leans back. “Bake me cookies.”

17

I blink. “Um, what?” Of all the things I expected to come out of his mouth, baking cookies didn’t make the list. It wasn’t even in the realm of possibilities.

“Bake me cookies,” Jonas repeats. He reaches out and twins a lock of my hair around his finger. “Your father talks about your chocolate chip cookies all the fucking time, and I want to see if they live up to their reputation.”

I thought maybe he’d bend me over the counter and fuck me senseless. He wants me to…bake cookies. Obviously there’s more to it than that. He wouldn’t be looking like me like he wants to eat me if that wasn’t the case. I slowly push to my feet and smooth down the shirt. “I can do that.”

I make it three steps into the kitchen before he tsks. “Forgetting something?”

The desire to please him, the realization that no matter what I do, it won’t happen because this fantasy is intentionally setting me up for failure... It all twists up inside me, sizzling through my veins. I turn back to face him. “I don’t think so?”

“Cute.” He jerks his chin at the pantry. “Back of the door.”

I duck into the pantry to find what he’s talking about, and stop short at the sight of a pink frilly apron. It looks like something a 1950s housewife would wear, every hair in place and her makeup perfect. It even has lace.

Who does it belong to?

I shove the thought down deep. It’s none of my business if this belongs to some ex of his. It shouldn’t bother me because we’re just playing pretend. It shouldn’t…but it does. I clear my throat. “Interesting fashion choice.”

“Fishing for information?” His low chuckle makes me shiver. “It was a gag gift from my sister last Christmas. I’ve worn it for exactly one photo to get her to stop pestering me. No one else has.”

Relief makes me a little light-headed. I lift the apron off its hook. He’s going to want me to wear it naked. So the question is do I want to try to anticipate his desires, or do I want to make him shake his head at me again?

Really, it’s an easy choice.

I put it on over the shirt, tying it around my neck and waist. It’s not a good look. The excess T-shirt fabric bunches unattractively and no doubt I look ridiculous. I fight down a grin and walk back into the kitchen. “I guess I’ll get to work.”

“Baby girl.” There it is. That exasperation mixed with disappointment. “You must be joking.”

“What?” I make a show of looking at myself. “You wanted me to put on the apron, right?”

Jonas takes a long drink of his mug and sets it down on the counter with a click that sounds like a gunshot in the room. He rises and makes his way to me. There’s a faint element of menace in his posture, and a thrill of sexy fear goes through me.

If I ran…would he chase me?

Would he hold me down and fuck me while whispering all kinds of filth in my ear as I try to get away?

Jonas stops in front of me. “What’s got that look on your face?”

“Nothing.” I answer too quickly.

He shakes his head slowly. “If you don’t want to answer, that’s fine, but don’t lie to me.”

My skin feels like it’s turned crimson. Speaking such a filthy fantasy out loud will expose even more of myself. What if that is the line he’s not willing to cross? What if he turns away?

He can’t give me what I want if I don’t tell him the truth.

I dredge up my last bit of courage. “I was thinking that I would like you to chase me.” When he doesn’t move, I force myself to keep going. “To hold me down and fuck me.”

“While you try to get away.”

It feels like he’s reading my mind. Or at least reading me far better than I could have ever anticipated. “While I try to get away,” I confirm. I can’t quite meet his gaze, so I stare at his chest. Except Jonas doesn’t let me get away with that. Of course he doesn’t.

He touches my chin, tipping my head up until I’m staring straight into his blue eyes. He searches my face as if he really can pull my thoughts right out of my head through sheer determination. Whatever he sees there seems to satisfy him, because he nods slowly. “We’ll talk about it later.”

That isn’t a no.

Holy shit, that isn’t a no.

While I’m still processing that, he unties the apron and sets it on the counter. Then he skims off the shirt. Jonas just looks at me for a moment. I like that the sight of me naked affects him like this. I like it a lot. Finally he grabs the apron. “This, baby girl, is what I want and you damn well know it.” He eases it over my head, arranging it just so, and slides his hands down the straps to the panel in front, the backs of his fingers brushing against my breasts. He follows the line of the fabric to my hips and then steps close to reach behind me and tie it in place.

Jonas moves back enough to admire his handiwork. I look down at myself. I look ridiculously sexy. Like a pinup girl or something, except I’m no doubt sporting just-been-fucked hair and don’t have a speck of makeup on.

He leans back against the counter. “Think you can keep from making a mess in my kitchen?”

“You’re the one who wants cookies.” When he lowers his brows, I give a little pout. “I’ll try, Daddy.”

“That’s what I want to hear.” He makes a lazy motion with his hand. “Get to work.”

Being naked with Jonas is one thing. Wearing an apron and nothing else while I move around his kitchen, trying to find all the ingredients for chocolate chip cookies, is something else altogether. I can feel him watching me every step of the way, and I can’t help but put on a little show for him. Bending at the waist to look for bowls in the corner cabinet. Stretching my arms overhead to twist my hair up, high enough that my nipples peek out from behind the front panel of the apron. Doing anything I can to cause him to make that growling sound like he’s doing everything in his power to keep from grabbing me and fucking me right this moment.

He has better restraint than I do. By the time I get to the flour, I’m so wet, I’m practically dripping. I’m the one who’s about to break this tense standoff we have going on. Unacceptable.

I decide to play dirty.

I measure the flour and, instead of turning the mixer off, I just dump it in while it’s still going. Just as expected, a cloud erupts, sending flour everywhere. “Oops.” I don’t turn around to look at Jonas, not when I can hear him moving in my direction. I just add more flour, with the same result. “Oops again.”

Jonas’s hands slam down on either side of me and then he’s pressed against my bare back, his cock a hard length filled with promises of pleasure. He leans down until his lips are at my ear. “What did I say about making a mess?”

“Sorry, Daddy.” I can’t help grinning. “I’m really sorry.”

“You’re not even a little bit sorry.” He shuts off the mixer and grips the front of my apron in a fist, using that hold to turn me to face him. “You’re in my kitchen, dressed like a little slut, and making a mess. You’ve proven your point, baby girl. You want me to punish you.”

18

Of course I want him to punish me. That was the whole point of this. I’m still going to protest.

“No!” I grip the counter and arch my back. Combined with the way he’s pulling at my apron, it has the ties around my neck loosening to expose my breasts.

Jonas doesn’t move away. He just grabs more fabric in his big fist, until I might as well be naked. He looks down at me and shakes his head. “If I palm you right now, I’m going to find you wet, aren’t I?”

I nibble my bottom lip. “Maybe?”

“You get off on inciting me.” He pushes me back, pinning me in place. “This isn’t going to end the way you want.”

“Isn’t it?” I grin.

He shakes his head slowly. “What am I going to do with you?” He lifts me onto the counter before I can respond. “Don’t answer that. You’re just going to piss me off.” He spears me with two fingers, but he’s not trying to get me off. No, he’s testing how wet I really am. How ready. “Just as I thought.” Jonas pulls out his fingers and shoves down his lounge pants.

I felt him. I’ve sucked him off. I’m had him inside me. The sight of him still steals my breath and sends a little thread of alarm through me. I’m all sorts of hot and bothered, but the look in his eye says this will be a punishment. “But—”

He fists his cock and presses it to my entrance. Not enough to enter me, but the threat remains all the same. “The only thing you respond to is fucking, so I’m going to fuck some obedience into you.” Still he waits.

I slowly lean back against the cabinet. Between that and his grip, I’m braced pretty solidly. I bring my legs up and hook my fingers around my thighs, holding myself open for him. “If I’ve been bad, then you should punish me, Daddy.”

He looks almost tormented for a moment before he gets himself under control. “At least you’re finally admitting that you’re not the good girl you pretend to be.” He pushes forward a little, easing the head of his massive cock inside me. “No good girl has a pussy so eager to be fucked. Look at the way you take me.”

I obey, looking down my body to watch him work himself into me. His cock spreads me vulgarly, each stroke disappearing a little deeper, only to reappear wet with my desire. “I like watching you fuck me,” I whisper.

“I like it, too.” The words are dark and low like a confession. “I’ll spend the rest of my life jacking to the memory of how sweet it feels to sink into your tight little cunt.”

The words force a moan out of me. Or maybe it’s the fact that he’s decided I’ve been prepared enough. Jonas slams into me, sheathing himself to the hilt. I tighten my hold on my thighs in response, which only serves to spread me wider for him.

“I like you like this. Holding yourself open for me. Letting me do anything I want to you.” He fucks me in rough strokes, driving deeper and deeper yet. He shifts the fist holding the apron to the side down, pulling the ties around my neck free, so he that he press his thumb to my clit. “Now be a good little slut and come around my cock.”

I don’t have a chance in hell of denying him. I don’t want to deny him. With each slide of his thumb, with each rough stroke of his cock inside me, I barrel closer and closer to oblivion. My whole body goes tight and hot and then I’m doing exactly as he demands, orgasming hard enough that I start to slam back into the cabinets. Jonas anticipates me, so my head hits the palm of his free hand instead of the wood. And then his mouth is on mine, claiming me here just like he’s claiming my pussy. He keeps fucking me, keeps kissing me, until another orgasm starts to build in the aftermath of the first. I want to touch him, but I can’t quite make my hands obey. It’s like they’re fused to my thighs, my body unable to do anything but take what he gives me.

This time, when I come, I propel him under too. He curses against my tongue and then he’s driving into me, grinding his way through his own orgasm. Jonas gentles his kiss as he keeps pumping into me almost idly. Finally, he shifts to press his forehead to mine. “This is only going to encourage bad behavior.”

I smile against his lips. “Maybe.”

“Thought so.” He eases out of me and helps me off the counter. My legs feel a little like all my bones have turned to mush, but I manage to keep my feet. Barely.

The kitchen is a mess. There’s flour everywhere. The counters, the cabinets, the floor. All over me and Jonas. I look at us and start laughing. “Sorry.”

“No, you’re not.” But he’s smiling, too. He undoes the ties around my waist with gentle hands and tugs the apron free. “We’re going to need a shower.”

“Oh no, not another shower in your amazing bathroom.” I grin. “We should clean up first, though.”

It takes us far longer than it should, mostly because we can’t quite keep our hands off each other. I drag my mouth down Jonas’s spine as he cleans the cabinets. He presses kisses to my neck while I try to get the counter in order. I end up sucking his cock while I’m trying to wipe the flour off the floor, and then he bends me over the now-clean counters to fuck me from behind.

Really, who can blame us?

We only have the weekend, after all.

By the time we manage to make it into—and out of—the shower, it’s well past lunchtime and edging into sunset. The rain still hasn’t let up, which adds to the feeling of us being in our own little world. One completely untethered by reality, where fantasy reigns supreme.

Jonas builds up the fire again and then pulls me down with him onto the couch. “I have some questions about what you said earlier.”

There’s no point in pretending I don’t know what he’s talking about. Especially since anticipation is already zinging through me. “About chasing me.”

“Yes.” He takes my hand in his and idly runs his fingers over the inside of my wrist. “How far do you want to play into that?”

I start to give a blithe answer, but force myself to actually think about it. “I want to protest. A little more than the ‘we shouldn’t be doing this’ but not a full out ‘oh my god, I don’t want this’ kind of thing. I don’t know if that makes sense.”

He considers the fire, still tracing abstract patterns on my skin. “So I chase you. I catch you. I hold you down.” He glances at me. “I force your legs apart and taunt you with how much you want this even though you know you shouldn’t.”

My throat goes dry and I have to swallow several times to speak. “Yes. Like that.” I hesitate. “I get off on the shame of wanting something that I shouldn’t.”

“I’ve gathered that.” He gives a slow smile, though there’s still an edge of restraint. “I don’t really have much experience with formal kink, but something like this needs a clear word to stop things if they get too intense for you.”

I haven’t done much formal kink, either, but what he’s saying makes sense. If part of the game is protesting, words like stop and no don’t exactly have the same meaning. “How about enough for that? If I say that, we stop.”

“That works.”

I won’t say it. I already know this safety measure is unnecessary. Jonas is too in tune with me to push us into uncomfortable territory. All the same, I think we both breathe a little easier as we settle on it. “Okay.” I look around. “Um, how does something like this get started?”

Jonas laughs. It’s deep and untethered and hits me right in the chest. He pulls me into a quick kiss that ends far too soon. “That depends on what you want.”

What I want? I want it all. Everything. I’m greedy for all the experiences he’s giving me, all the fantasies we’re playing out. “What if…” I shiver. “What if you’re working and I interrupt you? Just to ask a question or get a book, but then…”

“You’ve been flaunting that hot little body at me for years,” he says it almost as if musing. “I’m finally going to take you up on it, you little tease.”

I flush hot. “Yes. That.”

“Okay.” He sits back. “You want that now?”

“There you go, asking your trick questions again.” I climb to my feet and look at him. “Um, would it be totally untoward of me to ask you to put on a suit?”

Jonas gives another of those deep laughs. “Anything for you, baby girl.”

19

Reality threatens to intrude, to remind me that Jonas really won’t do anything for me because this has a deadline, one that’s approaching far too quickly. I push the thought away. I’ll deal with the fallout tomorrow. Until then, we have this.

Until then, I have Jonas.

While he changes into a suit, I grab my purse and duck into the master bathroom. I manage to tame my hair into something resembling order and, after some consideration, I put on some eyeliner, mascara, and lipstick. It’s a pretty pink that is a personal favorite. I kind of wish I had bright red for this moment, but the pink actually works a little better with the fantasy we’re weaving.

I debate putting my clothes back on, but my attention lands on the robe hanging on the back of the door. It’s soft and oversized on me, and smells faintly of Jonas. In short, it’s perfect. I glance at myself in the mirror. I adjust the robe a little, tying it a little loose so it gapes a bit between my breasts. Whoops. I grin. It’s time.

The bedroom is empty when I step out of the bathroom. I pad down the hallway and take the stairs to the main floor. There’s faint music coming from the direction of Jonas’s office. My heartbeat kicks up a notch, but I force myself to go slow. As if I really am just wandering in. The door is cracked, and I press my fingertips against it, sending it opening soundlessly.

Jonas is behind his desk, bent over some paperwork with a pen in his hand and a scowl on his face. As promised, he’s wearing a gray button-down shirt that makes his shoulders look particularly decadent. Not a thread is out of place, but he’s rolled up his sleeves, revealing his forearms. As if he’s really just finishing up some work for the day.

The rain and growing dark puts most of the study in shadows, but he’s turned on a lamp near the reading chair. It’s not enough light, but I can’t deny how atmospheric it makes the room. I’m still debating on how to make my presence known when he looks up. “Blake?”

“I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d grab a book.” I step into the study. “If I’m interrupting you, I can come back later.”

“I’m already interrupted.” He pushes his chair back from the desk. “Close the door.”

The snap in his voice has me obeying before I can consider the fact that this closes me in this room…with him. I lean against the door for a moment, gathering my courage. “I’ll be quick.”

“Mmhmm.”

I can feel his eyes on me as I skirt the edge of the desk and pick a spot on the bookshelves at random. Close enough that I’m nearly within reach. Far enough away that I don’t look like I’m trying too hard. I lean closer to the shelf and eye the titles. They might as well be in Greek for all I can read them. “Um, this one will work.” I grab one at random and start backing up.

“Blake.”

I stop short, my heart in my throat. “Yes?” I’m not entirely faking the tremor in my voice. Rationally, I know this is fantasy, that we literally talked about this less than an hour ago on the couch. But it’s all too easy to sink into an alternate reality where I’m staying here for some other reason and have wandered into his office while he’s working. That he’s really watching me like a lion who has a juicy gazelle within its grasp.

He gives me a long look. “Did you really just come down here to grab a nonfiction book about the oil industry?”

I glance down at the book in my hands, embarrassment heating my face. “Yes?”

“Are you asking me or telling me?”

I clear my throat. “It interests me.”

“Liar.” He says the word slowly, as if testing it out.

My hands are shaking so hard, I drop the book. I hit my knees before I can think of a reason not to, but leaning over causes the robe to gape even wider, exposing my breasts. I jump to my feet and yank it closed, but it’s too late. Jonas is on his feet. I back up. “I’ll just be going.”

“Did you really come into my office wearing nothing but my robe, faking some excuse about needing a book to read?” Jonas plants his hands on the desk. Even with that giant piece of furniture between us, I get the feeling he could launch himself over it easily and be on me in seconds. He leans forward. “Do you want to know what I think?”

I take another step back. “No.”

“I think you’ve been teasing me ever since that Christmas party six years ago.” The shadows make caverns of his eyes, and his voice is rougher than I’ve heard it yet. “I think that you like to flash that hot little body around me every chance you get and now you’re just begging me to take you up on it.”

“No,” I whisper. My back hits the door, but I don’t reach for the handle. As much as I like the idea of him chasing me through the house, the truth is that I want him to catch me here, to fuck me here, in the study.

“Liar.” This time, he’s not testing the word. He’s lobbing it at me with the force of a missile. “I’ll just have to prove it.” He moves, faster than he has right to, rushing around the desk and directly at me.

I bolt to the side, barely evading him. The book goes flying and then I’m around the desk, determined to keep it between us. “I’m not teasing you!”

“Yes, you are.” He surges forward again, and this time, I’m not fast enough. Jonas grabs the robe’s belt, stopping my retreat short. I don’t think. I just react. I shove at him but he’s too strong; I might as well try to shove a mountain. He jerks me to him, spinning me so my back is to his front. He yanks the robe down a little and tightens the belt, trapping my arms at my side.

I writhe, but he’s got me too thoroughly held. And then his free hand is around my throat, pulling me back until my head rests against his shoulder. I can’t move at all in this position. Can’t do anything but sob out a breath. “Jonas, stop. If my father finds out—”

“You’re right.” His voice is pure sin in my ear. “It would break his fucking heart to know what a little slut his precious daughter is.” He cups one of my breasts in a rough hand, making me squirm harder. “You wanted me to take this.”

“No!”

“Shall we find out?”

“Wait—”

He abandons my breast to cup my pussy in a harsh grasp. It doesn’t hurt, but it almost doesn’t feel like him. Or at least not how he’s touched me to date. He drags one finger through my pussy folds. “What’s this?” Another slow drag and then he lifts his hand before our faces. There’s no denying the way his finger gleams with my desire. “You’re awfully wet for someone who says they don’t want this.”

“I don’t want this,” I lie through my teeth.

He tsks. “Shameful.” Jonas circles one nipple with his wet finger, drawing it to a point, before repeating the process with the other. “Utterly shameful.”

I can’t get enough oxygen. Not because of how tightly he’s holding me—his grip isn’t squeezing at all, simply holding me in place—but because of how hot this is. “I’m sorry. Just let me go.”

“Not until you answer my question.”

I blink up at the shadows on the ceiling. “What question?”

I can hear the cruel smile in his voice. “Exactly how shameful is your father’s little princess?”

20

Jonas tightens his hold on my throat the tiniest bit when I try to burst forward. “I suppose we’ll see.” Despite his rough touch, he sounds almost like he’s musing to himself.

No matter how hard I fight, he’s too strong. He manages to maneuver us to face the desk without hurting me once despite my struggles. After the briefest hesitation he lifts me onto the desk. Shock stills me for a moment, and it’s all Jonas needs. He yanks the robe off and presses me face-down against the desk with my ass in the air and my wrists pinned at the small of my back.

How the hell did he manage that so smoothly?

I’m still trying to figure it out as he uses his free hand to urge my legs wider yet. I try to close them, but it’s impossible. “Please stop!”

Jonas curses. “Your pretty lying mouth is saying stop, but your pussy is practically dripping.” He skates his free hand up my thigh to the bottom crease of my ass and squeezes. Parting me. “You like this.”

“No!”

“Lie to yourself, but don’t lie to me.” He traces my opening with his thumb. “Are you worried that you won’t be your father’s little princess if you let me touch you?” His breath caresses my spine just above where he’s pinned my wrists. “If you stop fighting it?”

“Yes,” I sob out. “I’m not supposed to want this. I’m not supposed to want you.” I drag in a breath. “You’re my father’s best friend.”

“Yes, I am.” His gentle kiss against my back is directly at odds with the unyielding grip around my wrists. “And I’m about to eat your pussy until you come all over my face.”

I think I might die if he does. I know I’ll die if he doesn’t.

“Blake.” He leans forward to twine his hand through my hair and gently twist my head to face the windows. “Tell me what you see.”

It takes my eyes a moment to focus. It’s now dark enough outside that the windows act the part of a mirror, reflecting my image back at me. This position feels obscene. It looks even more so. With my cheek on the desk and my arms pinned back between my legs, my ass is in the air. The angle ensures that Jonas has a great view of both my ass and pussy. That he has access to both. I try to struggle, but he just presses my wrists more firmly to the desk. “Answer the question.”

“You didn’t ask a question.”

He gives my ass a sharp slap. “Try again.”

I’m panting now. “I see a man holding me down.”

“Ah.” His chuckle is as dark as the room. I watch him pull the chair closer to the desk, sink into it, and adjust the height, all without releasing me. “Would you like to know what I see?”

“No!”

“I see a little slut who’s begging for it.” He leans forward and drags his nose up the back of my thigh. “It’s okay, little slut. You can cry foul all you want. I’ll still give you what you’re afraid to ask for.”

“Wait—” Whatever I was about to say devolves into a moan as Jonas leans forward and licks me. A long lick, tasting all of me. It feels good. It looks even better. He’s got his face buried in the most private part of me, and it’s like watching my very own personal porno while experiencing it in real time.

For a moment, I forget that I’m supposed to be fighting this. I close my eyes and whimper, rolling my hips as much as I’m able, trying to guide him to my clit.

“That’s right, baby girl,” he murmurs against my pussy. “You want it, don’t you? You love rubbing that needy pussy on my tongue.”

“No,” I whisper. It sounds like a yes.

“Do you know how hard you make me? Promise to stop fighting and I’ll show you.” He doesn’t give me a chance to answer. He just goes back to eating me in slow, thorough licks. I’m so close. Unforgivably close.

“Please!”

Just like that, it stops.

Jonas lifts his head and exhales. “No.”

I blink. “What?”

“You want me to force you to come so you can pretend that you’re still a little princess.” He releases my arms and grabs my hips, pulling me off the desk. My head spins a little as he turns me to face him and yanks me down to straddle his lap. His cock is a giant line against the front of his slacks, so hard I can clearly see the crown. Jonas catches my chin and forces me to meet his gaze. “You want to come? Do it yourself.”

“I want to be good,” I whisper even as reach for his shoulders and I adjust myself on his lap. He’s almost lined up exactly where I need the friction the most. I hesitate. Am I supposed to take his cock out? Fuck him like this?

He grabs my hips and jerks me forward, sealing us together. Only the relatively thin fabric of his slacks separate us. His expression is merciless as he uses that harsh grip to rub me up and down his hard length through his pants. “This is what you need, isn’t it?”

I know I’m supposed to be fighting him, but it feels so good that I’m shaking. “I’m not supposed to want this.”

“No, you’re not.” He keeps me rocking against him. I’m so wet, I’ve already soaked his pants. Jonas leans forward until his lips touch the shell of my ear. “You’re not supposed to want this cock, which is the very reason you’re panting for it. But you’ve got to earn it. Get yourself off like this.”

I’m nearly mindless with pleasure. I loop my arms around his neck, pressing my breasts to the soft fabric of his shirt and grind myself against his cock. “I really just wanted a book.”

“You came into my study looking for exactly what you got.” He shifts his hands to my ass, squeezing and massaging but no longer guiding my movements. I have no one to blame but myself. He won’t let me forget it, either. “You wanted to interrupt my work and rub that needy pussy all over me until I take care of her. Isn’t that right?”

“No,” I sob. I’m so close. Every time he squeezes my ass, it feels like a bolt straight to my clit. I feel just like the little slut he’s named me. I want more.

“Is that not enough for you?” He sounds almost bored. “Typical.”

“Jonas, please.”

He stops my frantic motions. “Please, what? Ask me nicely and I’ll consider giving you what you need.”

“Your mouth again. Please.”

He lifts me easily and turns us around to set me in his chair. Watching this man go to his knees is something I’ll never get tired of. It’s even better because he’s fully dressed and I’m entirely naked. He guides my legs up and back, spreading me wide. As I watch, he lowers his head and drags his face over my pussy. “You taste too fucking good. You make me want to have you spread out on my dining room table, eating this pussy morning, noon, and night. We could see how many times I can make you come all over my face.”

“Jonas.” I moan. “We can’t. We’re not supposed to do this.”

“You’re right.” He inhales, long and deep. “But you’re feeling needy and I have a willing tongue. It’d be a damn shame to leave you wanting.”

And then there’s no more time for talking. He licks and teases, driving my pleasure higher and higher until I can’t stop myself from begging. I dig my fingers into his hair and lift my hips as much as I can, rubbing myself against his lips. “Right there.”

“That’s right. You know what you want, don’t you? This.” He keeps up that motion, over and over again, until I splinter into pieces. One last long lick and then he rises, picks me up, and resumes our earlier position.

That orgasm should have taken the edge off. It doesn’t. It only seems to take my frenzy from a spark to an inferno. I start rubbing myself on his cock again, and Jonas sighs. “I should have known that wouldn’t be enough for you.”

“This is what you wanted.”

“No, what I wanted was to get some work done.” He rolls the chair closer to the desk and reaches around me to straighten the paperwork I dislodged earlier. He sighs. “What a mess.”

Somehow, this has gotten all turned around in my head. I lift myself up a little and rub my breasts against his face. “Are you sure you want to work right now?”

“Work waits for no one.”

“Please, Jonas.” I’m whining a little but I can’t seem to help it. “Please don’t stop.”

“First you don’t want anything I can give you, and now you want everything.” He sits back in his chair and eyes me. “So much for the little princess act.”

I lean forward again and, this time, he catches my nipple in his mouth and sucks hard. The second he releases me, I eagerly cup my other breast and offer it as well. Jonas gives it the same treatment, making me squirm in his lap. I play with my wet nipples as he watches, feeling so fucking filthy that I can’t stand it. “You said it yourself. I’m not a princess. I’m a slut.” I unbutton his shirt with quick flicks of my fingers. “I need you to keep making me feel good.”

“You don’t seem to need me to do much at all.” He watches as I spread his shirt and run my nails lightly down his chest. Despite the bored expression on his face, his cock jumps in response. “You’re doing a fine job yourself.”

“I do need you, though.” I unfasten his slacks, moving slow, and peel them away from his cock. He finally takes some pity on me and lifts his hips so he can shove his pants down to his thighs. Finally. I wrap my fist around his cock and rub my pussy up and down his length. “You’re so big.”

“What would your father say if he say if he knew you were rubbing yourself all over my cock?”

I lift myself up enough to notch his cock at my entrance. “I’m not my father’s little princess anymore.” I sink down onto him in a smooth move. All the earlier fucking has made room, and it’s a seamless descent. We both gasp when he’s finally seated deep within me. I reach back to brace myself on the desk, giving him a perfect view of my body as I ride him slowly. I drag in a breath. “But I am my Daddy’s baby girl.”

21

Jonas curses and then his hands are on me and he’s leaning forward to kiss my breasts. “That’s right. You’re a dirty little slut who needs her Daddy’s cock.”

“Yes,” I moan. “I can’t get enough.”

“I ought to chain you to my fucking desk.” He thrusts up as I sink down, impaling himself deeper yet. “I’ll keep this perfect pussy wet and ready for me all the time.” Another rough thrust. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Blake? To be my toy. For me to spend the day playing with you.” He kisses me hard. “If you promise to be quiet, I’ll let you ride my cock during work calls, just like you are right now.”

“I’ll be quiet,” I gasp. “No one will know that you’re about to make me come.”

“Liar.” The word holds none of the sharpness from before. “You’ll be screaming and I’ll have to explain that I need to go because my baby girl’s pussy requires attending to.”

“It’s not my fault.” I slam down onto him and circle my hips. It feels so good, I keep doing it. “You make me crazed. I can’t get enough of your cock. It’s so big, it fills me so good.”

Jonas loops an arm around my waist and lifts me up to set me on the desk. Papers go flying but neither of us care because he’s using the new position to fuck me. Long rough strokes that jolt my entire body with impact. He’s so deep, I don’t know where he ends and I begin. I wouldn’t have it any other way. I grip the edge of the desk to hold myself in place, letting him fuck me harder.

I come on the next stroke. My orgasm bows my back and Jonas drags me even closer to him, bending down to take my mouth as he drives into me. The pleasure feels too big for my body, as if it’s transcended the physical and put us on an entirely different level. I can do nothing but cling to him as he finishes, pumping me full of his come.

“Holy shit,” I whisper. “Maybe you should chain me to your desk because I could get used to this.” It’s just pleasure drugging my brain, removing the brakes that should be in place. There’s nothing to get used to because tonight is our last day together. The realization feels bitter in the extreme.

His chuckle vibrates through my body. Jonas turns his head and kisses my temple. “Fuck, Blake, but I can’t get enough of you.” He leverages himself off me, but he doesn’t give me a chance to try to sit up. He simply scoops me into his arms and carries me out of the office. I expect him to take me to the bedroom, but he sets me on the couch and pulls the blanket from earlier around me. “Give me a second.”

“Take your time,” I say faintly. “I can’t feel my legs.”

He moves into the kitchen. “You okay with scotch?”

“Yes.” It’s not my go-to, but I can appreciate a good scotch.

He rustles around and then comes back into the living room to press a tumbler with amber liquid into my hands. Jonas sits next to me and pulls me closer, until my legs drape over his lap and he’s got his arms wrapped around me. We sit for several long minutes, sipping our scotch. He finally sighs. “That was intense.”

That startles a laugh out of me. “Intense might be understating it.”

“Are you…” He hesitates. “Are we good?”

I twist so I can see his face. He actually looks a little worried. “Yes. A thousand times yes. I…” Now it’s my turn to pick my words with care. “I like how nothing’s off-limits with you as long as we talk about it ahead of time. I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again. I like the games we play. This one was more intense than before, but it was so hot.” I shiver. “I liked it a lot.”

“Me too.” He sets his glass aside and cups my neck. “Blake.”

This is where he lets me down softly. Where he very sternly, but gently, reminds me that this all ends tomorrow. A careful reestablishment of the boundaries we put in place yesterday. I’m not ready to come back down to reality. Not yet. I press my fingers to his lips. “I know it’s only the weekend. Can we just have this right now? At least until tomorrow?”

Do I imagine the disappointment in his eyes? I’m not certain. Jonas is so open in some ways, allowing me to the very heart of him, but when it comes to anything other than sex, he’s a bit of a mystery. I wasn’t lying before. From all the stories my father has told about him over the years, I feel like I know him.

That doesn’t mean I actually do know him, though.

Jonas finally nods. “Drink your scotch. It’ll put the bones back in your legs.”

“Maybe,” I mutter. But I settle back against him and take a sip. Being close like this feeds a completely different part of me than the fucking does. I’m a big cuddler, and I hadn’t realized how much I’ve been missing the contact with another person.

Or at least that’s what I tell myself as I finish my drink and set the glass down. I turn and nuzzle Jonas’s throat. “I don’t want to miss a moment of our time together.”

His chuckle rumbles against my nose. “You need some sleep if you’re going to be driving back to Seattle tomorrow.”

Another reminder of our limited time. It has panic fluttering in my veins. “I don’t want to sleep yet.”

“Blake.” There it is again, that tone that speaks of serious conversations and very clear boundaries.

My panic takes wings, spurring me into motion. I surge up and kiss him. We both taste of scotch, but it’s not the alcohol making my head spin. No, that’s purely Jonas. He allows the kiss for several long moments, but then he wraps a fist around my hair and leverages me a few inches away. Just enough to see the look on his face.

He looks…out of control.

As out of control as I feel.

He tightens his grip on my hair. “Problem, baby girl?”

“Of course not.” My voice is too hoarse, giving lie to my words. “Why would there be a problem?”

“That’s the question, isn’t it?” He moves before I find the words to answer, standing and tossing me over his shoulder. “We’re going to bed.”

“Jonas!” I cling to his waist as he walks through the living room and up the stairs to his bedroom. He drops me on the bed and he’s on me before I have a chance to get my bearings, using his bigger body to press me back into the mattress. Not that I’m complaining, not with panic still fluttering in my chest, my throat, on my tongue. There aren’t enough hours left in this weekend; nowhere near enough time to exorcise this man from my blood, my bones. This experience was supposed to be about getting him out of my system, but instead he’s in even deeper than before.

Jonas’s hands are in my hair, tugging my head to the side in a gentle, but unbreakable, grip. “You don’t want to talk about it.” His voice has gone low and rough. “You just want to fuck and pretend that it’s going to be easy for you to go back to your life tomorrow.”

His words lash me, making me want to sting him right back. “You said it’s only for the weekend. Don’t be pissed at me for sticking to that.”

“So logical.” He sets his teeth against the sensitive skin of my throat. “You always have a plan, don’t you?”

“Is that so bad?”

He mutters something, but surely I must be hearing him wrong because I could swear he said It is when you’re leaving me. That can’t be right, though. Surely he didn’t say those words. Jonas works his way down my body, lavishing my breasts with kisses, trailing down my stomach, and finally settling between my thighs. How many times has he been in this exact position over the last twenty-four hours? So many. It doesn’t matter. I can’t get enough.

I’m truly terrified that I’ll never get enough of this man.

He doesn’t speak again. He just starts eating me out as if he wants to imprint himself on every inch of me. Like kissing my pussy is for his pleasure even more than mine, and he doesn’t care how many times I come, he’s not going to stop until he’s satisfied.

I lose track of orgasms. They roll into each other like waves crashing in a storm, each one driven higher than the next, all propelled by Jonas’s mouth. By the time he lifts his head, I’m shaking so hard, I can’t do more than lie there as he crawls up my body and settles between my thighs.

I lift a trembling hand and touch his face. “You’re going to ruin me.”

“Good.” He kisses me hard. “When you go back to California and you’re going on polite dates with assholes who think they can argue their way into your pants, remember this moment.” He guides his cock to my entrance and works into me in short, rough strokes. “Remember how much you love coming all over my face. Remember how you crave being filled by my cock.” He gives one last thrust, sealing us together. “Remember me.”

He’s really trying to ruin me.

22

Something hot and harsh sears me. I dig my hands into Jonas’s hair and find his mouth as he fucks me, slow and thorough, letting me feel every impressive inch of him. I taste myself on his tongue, which only drives my pleasure higher. This is how it is with us. Rough and dirty and all-consuming.

He hitches one arm under my thigh and opens me wider so he can sink deeper. I moan. “I’m not the only one, Jonas.”

“That so?” He’s breathing just as harshly as I am. Sweat covers our bodies, slicking the way to a slow gliding fuck that already has another orgasm building in me.

“Yes.” I drag my nails down his back and dig them into his ass. “When you’re sitting here, all alone in your self-imposed exile…” He pulls a move with his hips that has his cock stirring inside me. “Holy fuck, do that again.” I whimper as he obeys.

“Problem focusing, baby girl? Can’t imagine why.”

“You’re such an ass.” I rise to meet his strokes. This feels too good. I meant what I said before; this man is going to ruin me. It’s not fucking fair. He’s already ruined me in part simply by existing peripherally in my life. Now I know how good it is between us, and I’m afraid I’m never going to recover. I want to ruin him right back. “You keep telling me how good my pussy is. I hope that’s enough to keep you warm at night when you’re all alone, jacking yourself to the memory of me.”

Jonas buries his face in my neck as he keeps thrusting, driving us closer and closer to the point of no return. “No one can compare, Blake.” He turns his head and nips my shoulder. “Just like no one fucks you like your Daddy does. Now, come for me one more time.” He kisses me and shifts, changing the angle so that each stroke his him rubbing against my G-spot. I’m already too close; I don’t stand a chance of holding out.

He barely lets me finish before he pulls out and flips me onto my stomach. “It’s time.”

No mistaking his meaning. He very clearly outlined what he wanted earlier. I can’t work up the energy to tense, not when I’ve come so many times, not when I have the ridiculous urge to cry. We’re so clearly saying goodbye. I want this experience, too. If I can’t have him forever, I can at least have this experience with him. This memory.

Jonas goes to the nightstand and comes back with a bottle of lube. He stares at me for a long moment. I have the faint suspicion that he’s memorizing this moment, too. Packing it away in the back of his mind to pull forth when he wants to revisit it.

He grabs a pillow and urges me to lift my hips so he can slide it beneath me. I’ve done enough anal to know the drill, but never with someone of his size. As he kneels behind me, nerves flutter to life. “You’re not going to fit,” I mutter.

“Give me a chance to prove you wrong.”

I don’t hesitate. “Do it.”

He takes his time spreading lube over my ass. Again, I get the feeling that he’s imprinting this moment in his mind and making it last as long as possible. I close my eyes and release a long exhale. I trust him. It’s as simple and complicated as that. He’s proven time and time again that my trust is founded, and this act won’t alter that.

Finally, Jonas shifts and then his cock is there, pressing slowly into me. I tense, but make myself relax. He still feels too big, too overwhelming, but I can’t deny that it’s not exactly unpleasant. He stops with just the head of his cock inside me. “Baby girl?”

“Don’t stop, Daddy,” I whisper. “I can take it.”

He gives a rough laugh that sounds a little choked. “I know you can.” He goes back to easing into me, never giving me a moment to rest but also not rushing me. It seems to take forever, his length endless. But finally, finally his hips meet my ass and he exhales. “There you go.” Jonas braces his forearms on either side of me and pulls my hair off my neck. “You’re doing great.” He kisses me there, his movements shaking just as much as my body is. “You feel so fucking perfect.”

I shift a little, testing the feel of him. It’s overwhelming. Truly overwhelming. But, in this moment, I want nothing more than to be overwhelmed by Jonas.

I half expect him to start fucking my ass, but instead he snakes a hand between me and the mattress to cup my pussy. Jonas keeps kissing my neck, finding the spot that has my toes involuntarily curling, as he starts the lightest friction of his fingers against my clit. I’m so over-sensitized, anything more than this would be too much. Of course he knows that. Of course he adapts and ensures that I’m getting as much pleasure out of this experience as he is.

It doesn’t take long before I’m shifting against his fingers. The small movements mean I’m working his cock in and out of my ass, just a little, and he curses against my skin. “That’s right. Ride my hand. Take what you need.”

I couldn’t stop even if I wanted to. And I don’t want to. My exhale sounds like a sob as I mindlessly rub my pussy against his hand, seeking the orgasm building deep inside me. I don’t even realize he’s moving with me as first, short little strokes that make the most of my rolling hips. Careful. Jonas is being so fucking careful with me.

I grip the sheets. “More.”

He hesitates. “You sure?”

“Yes.”

He does as I ask, pulling nearly all the way out of me and thrusting back in. The almost uncomfortable full feeling only accents the pleasure of his fingers. I’m so close. So fucking close. “More, Daddy.”

This time, he takes me at my word. Jonas picks up his pace. He’s still not being overly rough, but the faster slide of his cock in my ass has me moaning. I want this moment to last forever.

Nothing lasts forever, though.

I orgasm hard, screaming into the mattress. Jonas curses and then he’s picking up his pace. Still careful, but he’s fully fucking me now, driving into me with a borderline frenzy. He pulls out and then hot come lashes my back.

I start to laugh. “Oh my god.”

He’s panting as he presses a kiss to my temple. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.” I stretch slowly. I’m a little sore, but I cherish that ache. Something to remember this by. “More than okay.”

“Then let’s get us in the shower.” He pulls me to my feet and tows me into the bathroom. I have every intention of taking advantage of him under the streaming water, but my body has other ideas. I end up leaning against Jonas as he washes me tenderly. My eyes simply refused to stay open.

After the shower, we land back in Jonas’s bed, and he tucks the covers in tight around us as he spoons me. I want to stay awake. I do. But sleep takes me all the same. At least for a little while.

I open my eyes to the sound of birds chirping and the glaring absence of the rain. This is it. The weekend is over. Behind me, Jonas stirs, and we have lazy morning sex, him thrusting into me from behind while he plays with my clit. When we finish, we both lay there in silence.

As much as I don’t want to be the one to break it and end things, I can’t keep my words to myself. “Thank you for this weekend. It was…”

“Yeah.” He gives me a squeeze. “Yeah, it was.”

The temptation remains to stay in bed. To ignore the clock ticking away the minutes and pretend that the sun hasn’t risen and shoved our deadline in our face. I force myself to sit up. “I should, uh, book my flight.” I grab my phone and pull up the airline’s app. It takes a few minutes to find an afternoon flight and book it and then I’m left staring at my screen. “I should get going. I like to be at the airport early.”

“Blake.”

I look at my, my heart in my throat. “Yeah?”

But Jonas just shakes his head. “Nothing. You should eat before you go.”

How am I supposed to eat when my stomach is tied in knots? I try for a smile, but it feels strange on my face. “I’m a nervous flyer, so I’d rather not.”

“Oh. Right.” He sits up, too. “I’ll, uh, go warm up your car.”

I sit there and watch him pull on a pair of pants and walk out of the room without looking back. This is goodbye, but he’s still taking care of me in his own way. My chest hurts. It feels like I’m caught in some machine bent on crushing the life out of me.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

I dress quickly. It feels like I’m a different person than the one who showed up here Friday evening, determined to convince Jonas to work with me. I head downstairs, still feeling ill at ease in my skin.

I don’t want to leave. I can admit that to myself, even if I can’t admit it aloud to Jonas. But trying to stay longer will just put off the inevitable. I live in California. Jonas’s home is in Washington. No matter how much he likes fucking me, he’s still got a stick up his ass about our age difference. There are so many barriers to this being anything more than a weekend fling.

Mainly that Jonas doesn’t want it to be more than a weekend fling.

He meets me in the living room as I dig through my purse to make sure I have everything. I hate how awkward we’re being with each other. I try again for a smile. “I’m terrible at goodbyes.”

“Me, too.” He closes the distance between us and pulls me into his arms. “This will have to do.”

He kisses me. Maybe it was supposed to be a brief one, but nothing is ever simple with us. I drop my purse and dig my hands into his hair. He grabs my ass and yanks me tighter to him. I don’t know who moves first. It might be me. I fumble to shove down his pants and he’s pulling up my skirt and lifting me so I can wrap my legs around his waist. And then he’s wedging that giant cock into me for the last time, working me down his length. For the first time, we fuck without speaking a single word.

What is there to say? This is goodbye and we both know it.

Jonas turns and takes a few steps so he can brace me against the wall. He takes my mouth in long, drugging kisses as he drives into me. Like he wants to imprint himself on every fiber of my being. I could tell him that ship has already sailed, but I’m too busy trying to clutch him to me, to get as close as possible, to take him deeper yet.

It’s over far too soon. I come with a cry that he swallows down and then he’s following me over the edge, pumping me full of his goodbye. He gentles the kiss and presses his forehead to mine. “Miss me a little?”

I drag in a ragged breath. “I’m going to miss you a lot.”

“Me, too.” He pulls out of me and carefully sets me back on my feet. Jonas gives me one last kiss and steps back. “Drive safe.”

I adjust my clothing, taking too long while I fight down the absurd urge to cry. “I will.”

I make it to the door when his voice stops me. “Baby girl.” I glance over my shoulder to find him watching me. “You’ll figure out the business stuff. Give yourself a little grace and trust your instincts.”

Damn it, now I really am going to cry. “Goodbye, Jonas.”

“Bye, Blake.”

It’s over for real.

23

The next week passes in a blur. I decide to take Jonas’s advice to heart and put my all into doing things my way. Or maybe I just keep myself busy to avoid going back to my empty apartment and the onslaught of memories from last weekend. The inside of my head is a messy place right now, and I can’t begin to count how many times I pick up my phone to text Jonas and then put it back down again. He gave me the weekend. Wanting more is greedy and unfair. It’s better to let things end now, while they’re good, than to continue to throw myself at him and force him to reject me. Again.

Instead, I throw myself into work.

My first priority is getting the Henderson account figured out. It takes two very, very long days to find an architect who will fit their vision and has availability. Grace Ramsey. She’s up-and-coming in the field and hungry to make her name. With the connections the Hendersons have, it could mean a lot of steady work for her. Convincing them to give her a shot takes another two days and countless phone calls while I patiently explain that Jonas is not available and I have the utmost faith that my pick will meet all their needs. On Friday, I get them all into a room together, and she works her magic. By the end of the meeting, they are convinced Grace walks on water and have completely forgotten than Jonas exists.

I wish I could forget him as easily.

I think about him so much, when he actually walks through my office door late Friday afternoon, I’m sure I’m hallucinating him. I stare blankly as Jonas knocks on the doorframe. “Can I come in?”

He looks good. Really good. He’s wearing jeans and one of those knitted fisherman’s sweaters that I eyed in his closet less than a week ago. I blink, but he doesn’t disappear. “Are you actually here?”

“Yeah.” His lips curve. “I’m actually here.”

I can’t move. It’s like my body has turned into a statue and fused me to my office chair. “If you changed your mind about the Henderson account, it’s too late. I already found them an architect.”

At that, he gives me a real smile. “I knew you would.”

I have no business letting his words warm me straight through. Not when I still don’t understand what’s going on. “But… Why are you here?”

“Can I come in?” he asks again.

“Yes.” I motion him forward. “Shut the door, please.” Most everyone in the office has already gone home, but there’s no reason to risk having whatever this is get brought into office gossip. Not when I don’t understand why Jonas is here.

He shuts the door and leans against it, making no move to approach. “I spent this week thinking.”

“Okay.” It’s like all my nerves spring to life at once and suddenly I can’t sit still. I push to my feet. “What’s that have to do with me?”

“I had a good time last weekend.” He’s watching me closely. “I think you did, too.”

My face feels like it’s on fire, but I manage a droll response. “I can’t imagine what gave you that idea? It’s not like I lost count of how many orgasms you gave me or anything.”

He pushes off the door and takes a step toward me. “It was more than just fucking. There’s a connection there.”

“A connection.” So he felt it, too. I swallow hard. “What are you saying?”

“I’m fucking this up.” He drags a hand over his face and gives a rough laugh. “Let me try again.” Jonas holds my gaze. “I like you a whole hell of a lot, Blake. Not just the sex, though I like that a whole hell of a lot, too.”

Holy shit, this is happening. “I like you, too,” I whisper.

Some of the tension in his shoulders disappears. “I would like a chance to take you out on a real date.” Jonas hesitates. “Not just a single date. I want to date you. To give this thing between us a chance to figure itself out.”

“You live in Washington.”

He shrugs. “I have a house down here. I’ve just been up there the last couple years because I like the quiet. I can do my work anywhere.”

He’s saying all the right things. I’m afraid to hope that this is real. “You’re my father’s best friend.”

“There’s that.” He nods. “When we’re ready, we’ll sit down and explain the situation to him.”

My head is spinning. “The situation.”

“Yeah.” Jonas takes another step toward me. “You see, I’m falling for you, baby girl. I’m not saying it’s going to be easy to figure this out. But if you’re game, I want to try.”

My heart feels like it’s attempting to beat out of my chest. I laugh, the sound hoarse. “Is that a trick question?”

“Not even a little bit.”

I’m already moving, closing the distance between us. “Yes. Yes, I want to try.” I throw myself into his arms and kiss him. Even though it’s only been a week, desperation claws through me. “I need you, Daddy.”

Jonas doesn’t argue. He just reaches behind him to lock my office door and then his mouth is on mine. We stumble back toward my desk, and he has the presence of mind to guide us around it. Our hands are everywhere. Mine shoving under his sweater. His cupping my breasts, lightly pinching my nipples to attention. He pushes me down into the office chair and shoves up my dress to my waist. The way he stares at my black lace panties is how a starving man looks at a banquet laid out in his honor.

He manages to drag his gaze to my face. “We’re in your office.”

“Yes.” I’m breathing too hard.

“You know what that means.”

I’m grinning and I can’t stop. “I’ll have to be quiet.”

“That’s right.” He dips his head down and presses a kiss to my pussy through the lace. I whimper, which earns me a sharp look. But he doesn’t stop kissing me until my panties are soaked. Only then does he nuzzle the fabric aside to get to my pussy. He curses at the first taste and spears me with his tongue as if he can’t get enough.

I lift my hips to rub myself against his mouth. “More,” I whisper.

He gives me more.

He eats me out until I’m shaking, but he doesn’t tip me over the edge. Jonas finally lifts his head and licks his lips. “I’m feeling greedy, baby girl. I want you to come around my cock.”

“Yes.” I’m already nodding. I nudge him back and climb shakily to my feet. While he does the same, I shove my panties off, bend over my desk, and lift my dress. “Like this, Daddy?”

His rough curse is music to my ears. His hands brush my ass and down to spread my legs more, and then his cock is there, notching at my entrance. It feels like coming home. The sensation only becomes stronger when Jonas bends over me and covers my mouth with his broad hand. “Have to be quiet.” His voice is rough in my ear as he keeps up the endless advance of his cock into me. “Wouldn’t want all your employees to know that you’re in here, getting your needy pussy filled.” He thrusts the rest of the way into me, trapping my moan against his palm. With his free hand, he tugs down the straps of my dress and my bra, baring my breasts. “Can’t let everyone know you like being fucked dirty, can we?”

“No,” I moan.

“That’s right.” He thrusts again, slow. Taking his time. Jonas hooks an arm around my waist and lifts me as he moves back to sit in my chair. He keeps one hand over my mouth and cups my breast with the other. “Tell me what they’d see when they walk in.”

He shifts his grip to my jaw, freeing me to talk. It’s all too easy to imagine. “My dress is wadded up around my waist. I might as well be naked.”

“Because you don’t care about being discreet. You just care about fucking.”

“Yes,” I hiss. Each roll of my hips has him rubbing deliciously inside me. “They’ll see your cock. It’s so big, Daddy. You spread me so wide.”

He shudders out a breath and drops his free hand to my pussy, using his fingers to spread me. “No hiding that, is there?”

“No.” I whimper. “I’m so wet. You’re so deep.”

“Ride my cock, baby girl. Make yourself feel good.” He keeps me spread, keeps me exposed, as I obey. Suddenly, Jonas tenses. “Did you hear something?”

No. Because the office is deserted and the door is locked. There’s absolutely no chance of us being interrupted. That doesn’t stop the fantasy from driving me into a frenzy. “I can’t stop,” I whisper. “I don’t care if we get caught. I can’t stop fucking you.”

Jonas turns my face to his and takes my mouth as he starts stroking my clit. I try to hold out. I do. I want this to last forever. But he knows my body too well. He draws my pleasure higher and higher, teasing me over the edge. I sob as I come, and he has to clamp his hand over my mouth again to keep me quiet. He bands his other arm around my waist and fucks up into me, chasing his own pleasure until he comes with a curse that sounds like my name.

We collapse back into the chair and only then does he drop his hand from my mouth. It doesn’t go far. He cups my pussy as he idly plays with one breast. I shiver. “I missed you.”

Jonas kisses my temple. “I missed you, too.” He helps me off his cock and watches as I stand, his expression hungry. “Blake—”

“I know you want go on a date.” I tug the straps of my dress up and eye his cock. “But it’s late and my apartment is only a few blocks from here. Why don’t we order in tonight?” I grab his hand and press it between my thighs. “I have five days of missing you to make up for.” I lean down and nip his bottom lip. “And I’d really like to suck your cock.”

He pushes two fingers into me. “Hard to argue with that.”

“I know.” I gasp a little as he wedges a third finger into me. “Jonas, we should go if we don’t want to end up fucking in here a second time.”

“In a minute.” He keeps fingering me. “We both know you’re too much a little slut to be satisfied with a single orgasm.” He shoves up my dress and guides me to perch on the edge of my desk. “One more should tide you over until we get back to your place.”

I brace my foot on the chair arm, spreading my legs wide. “I’m not a little slut.”

“Liar.” He grips my hip. “Look how eagerly your pussy takes three fingers. We both know that’s not enough, either. You need my cock.”

I watch his fingers press into me and retreat, soaked with our shared desire. It’s vulgar and sexier than it has right to be. “You’re right.” I whimper. “I need your cock, Daddy.”

“Too bad. You can’t have it again yet.” He leans down and sucks on my clit as he keeps fucking me with his fingers. He’s right. I do need another orgasm. I don’t understand how this man knows my body so well and won’t hesitate to give me what I need, but I’m not questioning it. I’m too busy coming all over him.

We manage to make it back to my apartment sometime later, but we barely get through the door before I’m on my knees and sucking his cock down. Just like I promised.

It’s not until the next morning that we realize we completely forgot to order in. Jonas stretches out next to me, looking perfectly at home in my bed. “Brunch.”

I blink. “Brunch?”

“Yeah. It’s the weekend.” He trails his fingers down my spine. “We’ll go out for brunch. Eat something. Get you a few mimosas if you’re in the mood.”

I smile. “And then come back here and fuck each other senseless.”

“No.” He lightly smacks my ass. “Then we’ll take a walk and talk for a bit.” Despite his words, he hooks my thigh to bring my leg up so he can play with my pussy. “I know a lot about you, but I’d like to know you better.”

“I’d like to get to know you better, too.” I lift my hips, urging him to press his fingers deeper. “Brunch sounds nice. Talking sounds better.”

“Mmhmm.” He moves to kneel behind me and urges my hips high. “Just one more thing to take care of before we go.”

“Oh?” I manage to sound curious instead of just horny. “What’s that?”

“You and your needy pussy.” He notches his cock at my entrance and grabs my hips, working me back onto his length. “You’re my baby girl, Blake. That means I take care of you in every way.”

“Thank you, Daddy.” I press my hands to my headboard so I can thrust back against him. It’s the truth, though. He does take care of me. From fucking me just the way I need to his calm confidence in my ability to handle anything my business throws my way. I don’t know what my future will bring, but I’m so fucking glad that Jonas is part of it.

I moan as he thrusts into me. “We should have known a weekend was never going to be enough.”

“That’s right.” He leans down to snake his hand down my stomach to my clit. “Not a couple days, or a couple weeks, or fuck, even a couple years.” He curses. “I mean to keep you, Blake.”

I turn my face enough for him to claim a kiss. “Good. Because I’m not letting you go a second time.”

“Damn straight you’re not.” Jonas laughs, rough and low. “You’re mine, baby girl. And I’m yours. For good.”

* * *

Thank you so much for reading My Dad’s Best Friend! I hope it brought you a delicious escape from the real world! If you enjoyed it, please consider leaving a review.

Need more of Blake and Jonas in your life? If you sign up for my newsletter, you get access to a sexy bonus short from Jonas’s point of view!

If you’re looking for more taboo Daddy content, be sure to check out Your Dad Will Do! When Lily catches her fiancé cheating, she knows there’s only one way to get revenge…seduce her fiancé’s father. After this weekend, her ex won’t be the only one calling his father Daddy!

* * *

Check out this little sneak peek of Your Dad Will Do!

How does one go about seducing their almost-father-in-law? I really, truly do not recommend doing an internet search. The results are heavy on porn and light on answers. In the end, I’m left to my own devices.

That’s how I end up on his front porch in a short black dress and thigh highs in the middle of January, well after the polite hours of visiting. I’m shaking as I knock on the door, and it’s not purely because the icy wind making my clothing feel like a laughable barrier.

Despite the late hour, he’s awake. My breath catches in my throat as the door opens to reveal him. Shane. The man who, up until a few days ago, was supposed to be my father-in-law. Funny how quickly things change when you least expect it. Or not so funny at all. I sure as hell don’t feel like laughing.

He fills the doorway, a large man with broad shoulders, big hands, and a smattering of salt and pepper in his hair. He’s in his late forties, some twenty-ish years older than me. Shane frowns as recognition slips over his handsome face. “Lily? What are you doing here?”

“I was hoping we could talk.” I have to clench my jaw to keep my teeth from chattering. Maybe I should have gone with the trenchcoat route. At least then I’d have a coat.

To his credit, Shane doesn’t make me wait. He moves out of the way and holds the door open so I can walk past him. The first blast of warmth makes me shiver again. Maybe if I hadn’t stood out there for so long, gathering my courage, I wouldn’t be so cold now.

“What did he do?”

I blink and stop trying to rub feeling back into my fingertips. “Excuse me?”

“My asshole son. What’s he done now?” He catches my hand and lifts it between us. My ring finger is markedly empty. Shane skates his thumb across the bare skin, still frowning. Now my shivers have very little to do with temperature and everything to do with desire.

Maybe this is why Max and I were never going to work. His freaking father can do more with a single swipe of his thumb than Max was ever interested in doing with his entire body. Then again, Max and I only ever had polite, friendly sex—which was not what I found him doing with his secretary when I showed up unexpectedly at his office. I don’t want to get into it right now. I’ve already had four days of tears and raging with my girlfriends, but if I start talking about how I found Max fucking his secretary like the biggest goddamn cliché in existence, I’m going to start crying again.

That’s not why I’m here.

I’m here for revenge—and maybe a little pleasure, too, though the pleasure rates a distant second in priorities.

“Shane.” I say his name slowly. In all the time I dated Max, I called him Mr. Alby. A necessary distance between us, a reminder of what he was to me—only ever my boyfriend’s father. I rip down that distance now and stare up at him, letting him see the pent up emotions I’ve spent two long years ignoring and denying.

His dark eyes go wide and then hot before he shutters his response, locking himself up tight. But, almost as if he can’t resist, he swipes the pad of his thumb over my bare ring finger again. “Tell me what happened.”

“We’re over.” My voice catches, and I hate that it catches. “No going back, no crossing Go, no collecting two hundred dollars. Really, really over.”

He nods slowly and then gives my hand a squeeze. “Sounds like you could use a drink.”

“I could use about ten, but one’s a good place to start.” At least he isn’t kicking me out. That’s a good sign, right? I follow him to the kitchen and watch as he opens the liquor cabinet and picks through the bottles. “Vodka, right?”

“Yes.” Of course he’s remembers my drink. I bet, if pressed, he also remembers my birthday and a whole host of other details that slip past most people. But then, Shane isn’t most people.

Heat melts into my bones as he methodically puts together a drink for each of us. I don’t know what to do with my hands once I don’t need them for warmth, and the coziness of the temperature is a vivid reminder of just how little I’m wearing. My dress is barely long enough to cover the tops of my thigh-highs and while I’m wearing a garter belt, I have nothing else on beneath the thin fabric of the dress. I’m dressed slutty and downright scandalous and Shane has barely looked at me since I walked through the door.

That won’t do. That won’t do at all.

He finishes with the drinks and I gather what’s left of my courage and close the distance between us, sliding between him and the counter to reach for the glass. “Thank you,” I say over my shoulder.

Just like that, he’s pressed against my back, his hips against my ass. He inhales sharply, but doesn’t move back. “What are you doing, Lily?”

His lack of retreat gives me a little more strength. Just enough to sip the drink and then turn slowly to face him. I have to lean back over the counter to meet his gaze, and a thrill goes through me as he forces me to make the adjustments. He might as well be made from stone. I tip my chin up. “I have a question.”

“Ask it.”

“Last summer, you and Max were supposed to be working, so I was here at the pool.” I can barely catch my breath. “No one was around so I didn’t bother with a suit.”

“Mmm.” The barely banked heat in his gaze is back, flaring hotter by the second. He still hasn’t moved, either to press against me or to retreat. “That’s not a question.”

I lick my lips. “It felt wicked to be out there naked, knowing I was in your house even if you weren’t here. I…” This part’s harder, but his nearness gives me a boost of bravado. “I started touching myself. I felt like such a little slut, but that made it hotter.”

He’s breathing harder now, and he reaches around me to grasp the counter on either side of my hips. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because it’s not anything you don’t already know,” I whisper. “You were upstairs. I saw you watch me through the master window.” I reach behind me to the counter just inside his hands. The move arches my back and puts my breasts almost within touching distance of his chest. “I didn’t know you were there when I started, but once I knew you were watching me, I took my time and dragged it out. I wanted you to watch. I wanted you to do more than watch.” The last I’ve never admitted to myself, let alone out loud, but it’s the truth. “Do you remember that?”

He exhales harshly. “You don’t know what you saw.”

“Okay.” I’m shaking like a leaf. “My mistake.”

Shane still doesn’t move away. “Even I came home for lunch unexpectedly that day, you were dating my son.” He shifts forward the barest amount, closing in on me. “It would be fucked up if I stood in my master bedroom and watched you finger that pretty little pussy. I’d be a monster to have watched the entire thing and fucked my hand while I pretended it was you.”

“Shane,” I say his name like a secret, just between us. “I’m not dating your son right now.”

“What did he do?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

He shakes his head slowly. “You came here with a purpose, but you don’t get to throw yourself at me without sharing the truth. Out with it, Lily. What did Max do?”

I really, really don’t want to talk about it, but the sheer closeness of him makes my verbal brakes disappear. I find myself answering without having any intention of doing so. “He slept with his secretary. I think he wanted me to catch him. Either that, or he’s just really shitty as hiding it when he’s up to no good.”

He curses softly. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not.” It’s even the truth. I will cry and I will grieve for the future I thought would be mine, and I sure as hell will spitefully fuck Max’s dad, but I’m not sorry I avoided tying my life to someone who never should have been more than a friend.

I lift myself onto the counter, putting us at nearly the same height. The move has my skirt rising dangerously, flashing my thigh-highs and garters.

Shane looks down and goes still. We both hold our breath as he shifts one hand to bracket my thigh and traces the point where my garter connect with the stockings. “Lily.” This time, when he says my name, he sounds different. Almost angry. “If I push up your skirt, and I going to find your bare pussy?”

The words lash me and I can’t help shivering. I lick my lips again. “If you want to find out, I won’t stop you.”

“Dirty girl.” He snaps the garter, the sting making me jump. “You came here for revenge.”

There’s no point in denying it. “Yes.”

“I’d have to a selfish asshole to take advantage of you when you’re like this.” But he’s looking at me in the way I’ve always fantasized about, like he has a thousand things he wants to do to my body and hasn’t decided where he wants to start.

“It’s what we both want, isn’t it?” When he doesn’t immediately answer, I press. “Why not do it?”

He moves his hand to my hip and grips the fabric of my dress, pulling it tight against my body. “I could think of a few reasons. You were going to marry my son.”

I can’t quite catch my breath. “I’m not going to now.”

“You’re young enough to be my daughter.”

I watch the dress inch up my legs with every pull of his hand, baring more and more of me. The sight makes me giddy. It’s the only excuse for what slips out in response. “Should I call you Daddy, then?”

He goes still. Just like that, he releases my dress and the fabric falls back to cover most of my thighs. Disappointment sours my stomach, but he’s not moving back. He skates his hand up my side barely brushing the curve of my breast before he grips my chin just tightly enough to hurt. “Is that what you want, Lily?” He presses two fingers to my bottom lip and I open for him. “You want to call me Daddy while I do filthy things to you that you’ve only fantasized about.” He slips his fingers into my mouth, in and out, in and out, miming fucking. I watch him with wide eyes, but I don’t get a chance to decide if I like it or not before he clamps his remaining fingers tightly around my chin, his fingers almost deep enough to gag me.

Shane leans down and holds my gaze as his fingers pulse. “You want to call me Daddy while I slip my hand up your skirt and find out what you have waiting for me? While I bend you over this counter and fuck you with my tongue until you come?” It’s almost too much, I can’t quite catch my breath, I really am going to gag, but he gives me no relief. “You want to ride Daddy’s cock?”

Read Your Dad Will Do now!

About the Author

Katee Robert is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of contemporary romance and romantic suspense. Entertainment Weekly calls her writing “unspeakably hot.” Her books have sold over a million copies. She lives in the Pacific Northwest with her husband, children, a cat who thinks he’s a dog, and two Great Danes who think they’re lap dogs.

www.kateerobert.com

Facebook icon Facebook

Twitter icon Twitter

Instagram icon Instagram