Page 10 of Bartender Daddy's Girl
“Why not?” She pouts, and my heart flutters in my chest.
Daddy’s gonna have to punish his bratty little girl if she keeps this up. “Because a girl’s first time has to be special . . . at least that’s what they say.”
“But this is special,” she fights, sitting upright and burying her face against my chest. She kisses along my shoulder, neck, and up my ear, desperately fighting for us to go on.
“It could also be so much better,” I put my foot down and pray she accepts it. I won’t be able to stay strong forever.
“Fine,” she says with a huff and falls back onto the bed.
“That’s my girl,” I smile and collapse next to her.
This, whateverthisis, just got a hell of a lot more interesting.
Sprawled out,spent and sweaty, Carrie lies half naked across the bed with one arm and one leg coiled around me, her head resting over my heart. She’s quiet now, and it makes me long for the sounds she was belting out not half an hour ago. More than that, I feel my muscles straining from fighting themselves to hold back for round two.
I can’t blame them, not after that announcement.
She’s a virgin.
Am I the first who’s had the honor of touching and tasting her? Wringing orgasmic ecstasy from her writhing body.
While my mind rationalizes taking things slow, my body refuses to listen. My cock hasn’t stopped throbbing from the first time we kissed, and it’s only gotten worse with her admission.
I don’t just want it. I fucking need it. Her tight virgin cunt suffocating every inch of me. Bathing in the sounds of ecstaticpleasure bellowing out of her while I take her innocence and make her mine for good.
Forever.
Fuck. Get a hold of yourself.
A nice thought, but I’m way too far gone to listen.
“I bet all of these have a ton of stories,” she says, tracing the tattoos on my chest.
“Some of ‘em. Others are just there because I was young and thought they looked cool,” I say.
“Will you tell me about them?” She rests her chin against my chest and looks up at me with her big, blue eyes.
“Sure,”
“What about this one?” Her fingers move over my arm, tracing the length of a snake’s body down to the head on the back of my hand. She stops over its exposed fang.
“A sign of loyalty to a crew I used to run with,” I say. A lot of good my loyalty has given, seeing as Frasier and I are the only ones left.
“Ah, so you’re one of the bad boy types?” she snickers. “No wonder you gave the sheriff such a hard time.”
I just smile and shake my head.
“Nah, not quite. Larry’s just doing his job, but it’s not his fault I’ve got a distaste for the law.” And here it is. Time to make a choice that will alter the rest of my life, for better or worse.
Still, I won’t overplay my hand. We haven’t leaned into the hard questions yet, and Carrie has to ask them for me to answer. I won’t hold back if she does. It’s only fair to her that she knows the man she’s getting in bed with, literally and figuratively, I suppose.
“Then what is at fault?”
“Playing both sides,” I say, buying myself a little more time before I tell her everything. “Cops like Larry believe what they’re doing is right, but they don’t know what they’re really protecting.”
She doesn’t interrupt me, but her brows waggle with curious anticipation for more.
“Used to be a soldier. I was good at it, too. So good, they gave me a special title and job.” I turn away from her, unable to hold eye contact with what I’m about to say. Though I won’t share the dirty details, I don’t want her peering into my soul while my mind runs down memory lane. “They called us black site specialists. Sent us all around the country, sometimes the world, to places you wouldn’t expect to have any life at all. Made us get information out of folks no matter the cost or consequence.”
