Page 6 of Rough Daddy
He’s like rural blue-collar sex that you smoke from a crack pipe.
"What's your name?" I call as he picks up the pace and I have to do the tiptoe jog to keep up.
He stops. His ass flexes into steel as he turns with a scowl.
"Beau," he answers as the muscles in his shoulders seem to inflate. “Boone.”
I squint an eye. “Which is it? Beau or Boone? Or is that a nickname or a surname? Like, what is on your birth certificate? Or your driver’s license? Do you file your taxes under Beau or—”
“Jesus.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Are you always like this?”
“Like what? Curious about the identity of a man who says it’s my lucky day, he’s got a tow truck and tells me to follow him?” I nod, eyes wide. “Yeah, I’m always like this in this situation.”
He just stares, blinking as though I’ve just asked him for the secret of the sauce. “Beau comes first. Boone comes second. But you can add that Sir in front of either if it makes you feel better.”
This fucking guy.
“And you?” He cocks his head, a flicker of silver catching at his temples. “Name?”
Panic closes my throat to a pinprick and I hiss, "Tess—" Cough. “Tina. Tina Quincy.”
Wow. My 140 IQ just rolled its eyes. That’s the best I could do?
This man’s sky-blue eyes make me feel like a lump of coal about to turn into a diamond.
He just nods on a grumbling exhale and resumes walking.
And for the first time in weeks, I smile. Even let out a little snort.
I’m pissed off and turned on and completely out of my depth.
But awake. So, freakin’ wide awake.
Look out, world, Tina Quincy’s about to light a Wildfire.
Three
Beau
She walks like a newborn filly.
Her ass sways with each unsteady step, wet silk molded to tits I've memorized through a screen.
Tina Quincy, my ass.
TessafuckingQuinn.
The new goth-black hair is a nice touch, but I know her. My obsession runs so deep she could wear a sack, shave her head and belch the Star-Spangled Banner, and I'd still know it was her.
Mine.The thought slams into me, cock thick as a damn can.
She has no idea I've watched her for months. I know her nipples peak when she's cold. Her voice goes breathy when she's nervous. How she curled into a ball and cried the day they tore her apart online.
How all her accounts went dark 48 hours ago.
I want to turn her little ass over and show her what happens to girls who call strange men "sir." But I know what happens when monsters like me touch delicate things.
We break them. We might not mean to, but we do.
