Page 31 of Seducing Daddy

“Thank you so much for giving me a ride home.” I agonized. Our straightforward conversation came easily up till now. This new awkwardness was definitely my fault and was why it was better to keep certain things to myself.

Sharing them ruined everything.

Unfortunately, I was about to destroy a certain Daddy’s dreams, and in no way did he deserve it.

“I’m happy to do it, Jolene.” He smiled. “It’s hard to leave you here.”

We stood stiffly in the front hallway. He didn’t ask to come inside, nor did I invite him. “Rex. I care for you.” I searched for the words to say, and he sensed the meaning behind me drifting off mid-thought.

“Sounds like there is a ‘but’ coming,” he ventured.

“You’re the first man I’ve been with since my ex.” I sniffled.

He stroked my arm and smiled gravely. “I know how privileged I am, Jolene. Don’t think I’m not grateful for what you’ve shared with me.”

“I’m just afraid I’m not capable of loving anyone right now.” A hot tear trickled down my cheek, and a pain squeezed my heart. “It was a big deal to be intimate with you,” I lamented, finding myself suddenly shy. “But I don’t know if I can handle anything beyond what we’ve already shared.”

His next words completely blew me away because they were something I’d never heard my ex, who argued with every idea I had, say out loud.

“I completely understand,” he reassured. “I’m willing to wait however long it takes until you’re ready.” His face was full of strength, shining with a steadfast and serene peace. “Sometimes God calls on us to wait. In the meantime, you can use me for sex all you want.” He whisked me into his arms, and before he had the chance to take me to bed, Margot trotted out to greet us. She did her best to trip him with her signature move: calf caresses while threading herself around his ankles.

Rex placed me on the ground so I could pick her up, give her pets, plant a kiss on her head, and scratch her cheek just how she liked. Then I went to the kitchen to open a can of tuna for her.

Damn it.

Every time he touched me, it was impossible to ignore the emotions he brought up, no matter how hard I tried.

Preacher or not, he had W.P.R.—wet pussy radar—that homed in on my lust. He picked me up when I finished feeding the real princess around here, and carried me to the bedroom, throwing me onto the mattress.

Daddy was on top of me in an instant.

“Tell me no and I’ll go away,” he purred, and I drank in the comfort of his nearness. There was no missing his delicious, male, musky smell as he pressed his body closer. “Or do you need your Santa? Baby?”

Playfully, I nudged his shoulder. “Nice play on words,” I remarked, trying to ignore the fact that my body ached for his touch. “Are you asking whether I need my safe word? Or whether I want to be Santa’s little helper?”

He began unbuttoning my shirt and beckoned, “I have a big present for you, but first, I want to eat your milk and cookies.”

Annoyed by the way he enjoyed watching me struggle for composure, I bit my lip to stifle my reluctant laugh at his corny jokes, then came back with, “Oh, yeah, I can put to shame your naughty Christmas talk.”

His brows flickered a little.

“When I think about you, I touch my elf,” I crooned.

He groaned and made a rough-voiced request. “Will you do it for me now?”

I swallowed hard and boldly met his eyes, finding perverse pleasure in the challenge. “What’s it worth to you?” I asked as he dragged my zipper down and tugged at the hem of my jeans, pulling them off and tossing them into the corner armchair.

“Let me watch, and you can touch my sugar plums.” There was something warm and enchanting in his humor that put me at ease and made me want to fulfill his every expectation.

Plus, I wanted to get this thing over with and have him roast his chestnuts on my open fire once and for all.

And I wanted to further explore this whole Daddy business.

Lying with him in bed, I admitted the guy was the most blazingly hot man I’d ever been with. After being treated like dirt during my longest relationship ever, it was a pleasant change to be stared at as if I were the most coveted of gifts under the Christmas tree. It did good things for my ego, and I told myself I was ready for this.

I slipped my thumbs under the waistband of my undies and pulled them off, dropping them on the floor.

“You’re such a good girl.” His praise was better than the hallelujah chorus and gave me courage. I plunked my head back on the pillows and slid my legs open.

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