Page 21 of Protect Me

She raises her chin. “I may be your little girl, but I’m an adult.”

She sure as fuck is.

And she knows exactly what to say to drive me wild. To make me want to throw everything I said out the window. But instead of giving her anything she wants, I tug her off the counter, turn her around, and push her chest to the granite.

When I turn my body toward her side, I pin the back of her neck with one hand as I slide my free hand down her back. “You might call me daddy, but you sure don’t listen to a fucking word I say, do you?”

She shakes her head and relaxes against the countertop. My hand rides along her ass, gliding over the incredible curves that make me weak. I ball her hair at the nape of her neck, and she whimpers as I crane it back.

“I walked in on you rubbing your pretty little cunt, but I remember telling you not to touch yourself. Didn’t I?”

“Yes, daddy,” she moans.

“Do you know what happens to bratty little girls who disobey?” I rub my hand over her skin before raising it and bringing it down on her ass in a hard slap.

She whimpers and tries to pull away from the pain, but I rub my hand along her skin, comforting it with the warm heat of my palm.

This daddy thing isn’t something I’m totally comfortable with, but she seems to have grown to love it. Letting her call me daddy is just one more thing I do for her.

I draw back my hand and give her another harsh spanking. She moans and squeezes her thighs together, but I put my hand between them and pull them apart.

“Keep those pretty little thighs spread for me. I want to see how wet you get from this.”

She growls. “Why does it matter? You won’t do anything about it.”

I spank her again. “I know I won’t. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to see how dripping wet your cunt gets for me.”

Her ass cheeks redden to a beautiful hue, and I smack her again, rubbing the pain away with my palm. Turning her whimper into a moan. By now, her slit is gleaming with wetness. She looks good enough to fucking eat, and I really wish she didn’t.

“Please, daddy, can I have another?” she begs.

Yeah, she is testing every ounce of my resistance.

I oblige her, giving her the hardest smack of all, and it pushes her forward. She grips the sink to brace against my strength, and her thighs quiver as if every hit sends vibrations through her entire body.

“I need to come, please,” she pants.

I pull my hand from her and tug her up by her hair. Her lips are so close to mine.

“That’s not going to happen,” I whisper.

She blows out a frustrated breath. I’m frustrated too. I’m aching for her, but we can’t.

And if I can’t get relief, neither can she.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Isabella

I fidget in bed. The darkness hides his features, but I know Vance is asleep in the chair across the room. The gun is probably on his lap. He wasn’t kidding when he said he would keep me attached to his hip. I hate being attached to someone I can’t touch, even when I beg for it.

I squeeze my legs together, the frustration from earlier still coursing through my body. Vance spanked me so hard that he left bruises where his fingertips dug into my ass.

I sigh and get out of bed, pausing in case Vance stirs when my feet touch the floor. I leave the bedroom in my nightgown and head to the kitchen. When I pour myself a drink, I can only hope it will calm the energy between my legs.

Vodka. My favorite.

I put the glass beneath the freezer’s ice maker and fill it halfway. The ice spreads as the clear, expensive liquor smothers it. I take a heavy sip, enjoying the burn at the back of my throat. And then another. With the glass tilted to my lip, I hear my door slam.

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