Page 11 of Rough Daddy
"I believe that. Doesn't change a fucking thing." I step closer, close enough to smell her shampoo. Close enough to see the gleam of sweat breaking out on the curve of her forehead. "While you're here, you follow my rules. You do what I say. When I say."
She should argue. Should tell me to go fuck myself.
Instead, she whispers, "Yes, sir."
"Are you doing that on purpose?" I growl, crowding her backwards until she hits the wall.
"Doing what?" Her voice is breathless.
"Calling me sir." I brace my hand above her head, leaning down until our faces are inches apart. "Because that’s a word you use when you belong to someone."
“Maybe that’s the word you use when you address an elder.” She smirks, fingers hovering over my chest. "But who exactly would it be that I belong to up here, where I know no one?”
“You know me. I told you who I was back in town. So, I guess it would be me. Elder as I am.”
I stand there like a fucking masochist, watching her hand hang in the air over my heart. Touch me. Please, God, just—
"Tina." I grind out her fake name between my teeth. Warning her.
She doesn't listen.
Her palm connects with my chest. I feel it everywhere. In my cock, my gut, my fucking soul. Heat shoots straight to my groin, and I'm hard as granite, aching to use my fucking teeth to tear off anything that’s covering her, then use my tongue to spell my name on her fucking pussy so she knows who owns it now.
Mine. My girl. My—
No.
I jerk back, the connection broken.
She stumblesagain, wobbling on those crazy high heels. Time stalls.
She’s hanging there in the air for a heartbeat. Two.
Then gravity’s a motherfucker. She goes down hard before I can move to catch her, her wrist smacking against the stone hearth.
"Fuck." I'm on my knees in a second, the war inside me like fire fighting ice.
I want her against me. I want to put my fucking hands everywhere. But just being close to me has her already hurt.
"Don't fucking move. I'm going to call an ambulance. Cade’s wife is a med tech, I’ll call her. Jesus. Fuck. I should have caught you."
She's cradling her wrist, face pale, and I want to fucking die. "I'm fine."
"You're not fine. Let me see." My panic sounds like anger.
"Don't touch me," she snaps, smacking at my outstretched hand, righting her feet back under her.
The words gut me. Because she's right. She's fucking right.
I shouldn't have brought her here. I sure as hell shouldn't have let myself forget, even for a second, that men like me destroy everything beautiful we get close to.
But I know one thing. I’m burning those fucking green boots.
Four
Tessa
The sound of an axe splitting wood pulls me to the kitchen window.
