Page 6 of Landlord Daddy's Girl

“I think the better question is, what are you doing in Derek’s place?”

“He asked me to cat-sit for him while he was abroad.”

“Ahhh. That’s why he didn’t ask me to watch Monty for him. That makes sense.”

“I think he wanted to give me a break from the dorms.”

“Yeah, probably. He’s thoughtful like that.” I say. “Anyway, how is school going? On your way to becoming a big-time professor like him?”

“Working on it,” she replies. “Speaking of which, I should probably go and finish getting ready. I’ve got to get to class. And you’ve got a bathroom to fix. I just thought you might want to know I’ll be gone in half an hour.”

“Appreciate that,” I say. “It was good to see you, Sierra.”

“It’s really good to see you, too. It’s been a while, and we should catch up.”

He nods. “We should. Hey, speaking of which, I’m guest bartending down at Stu’s tonight. You should come by and have a drink.”

“Stu’s? The place down on the beach?”

I nod. “One and the same.”

She looks at me uncertainly. “I’ll … I’ll try. It just depends on how much homework I have.”

“That’s fair,” I tell her. “Anyway, I guess I’ll see you around.”

“I guess you will.”

I walk her to the door, and she flashes me a smile before she goes. And as she does, I watch that perfect little ass walking away, swishing from side to side. I shake my head. My cock is stiff and pressing against my jeans painfully, begging for release. And all I can think about is releasing inside that perfect little body.

“Jesus,” I mutter as I close the door.

4

SIERRA

“Wait, so you’ve known this guy and have had a crush on him since you were a kid?” Monica asks. “And he walked in and saw you naked?”

I laugh as my face flares with heat again. “Yeah. He sure did. He saw me in all my glory.”

Monica—Moni to her closest friends—doubles over, howling in laughter. She’s been my best friend since high school, and watching her slap her knees makes me think maybe I need to be in the market for a new one, since she’s clearly enjoying my mortification a little too much.

“Are you done?” I ask dryly.

“Give me just a minute,” she replies. “I’m trying to catch my breath.”

We walk through the quad after class and her laughter draws attention I’d rather not have on me right now. I’m feeling self-conscious enough as it is. I lead her over to our usual bench beneath the tree at the edge of the quad and sit down. As shecontinues to cackle under her breath, I pull my blueberry scone out of my bag and take a bite, then wash it down with a swallow of my latte. As I wipe my mouth with a paper napkin, Monica finally quits giggling.

“Sorry,” she says, then takes a drink of her own latte.

“You don’t sound sorry at all.”

“Probably because I’m not.”

“You’re such a horrid bitch,” I say and laugh.

“And that’s why you love me.”

“Yeah, maybe so.”

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