Page 10 of The Construction Worker's Obsession

Posh flutters her eyelashes and squeals, "I'm dragging Whitney to a party downtown. She's never been to one, and I think it'd do her good to get out."

Jealousy instantly grips me. I know the kinds of parties teenagers go to, and I can't stomach the thought of other men having their hands on my Whitney.

"Whitney's not going," I tell her friend frankly. "I'm sorry, but can you manage without her?"

I watch as Whitney's full lips turn down into a frown. "What makes you think you can tell me what to do, Jon?"

She crosses her arms and sticks her little nose up in the air, and I feel my anger bubbling right below the surface. "Because you're mine. You gave yourself to me last night, or did you forget that little fact?"

Posh gasps and slaps a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide as gumballs as she looks back and forth between us. "So, you're not going to marry James, then?" Posh asks her friend, the happy clap of victory she gives betraying her feelings about the man before she adds, "Geez, what a relief. Never in a million years would he be good enough for you, Whitney."

Whitney shoots her friend a look, "I didn't say that."

I interject now, my blood boiling, "She's not marrying that dumb ass."

Both girls' eyes turn to me, but my eyes are pinned on Whitney. "You don't want to marry him, and your daddy forbids it."

Posh's brow furrows in confusion, "Actually, I think it's her dad who set the whole thing up—oh—" she cuts herself off when she sees Whitney staring at me with her mouth open.

I noticed the way Whitney's breathing instantly hitched when I called myself her daddy, and my own chest is heaving up and down now.

I finally can't hold back any longer, and I don't give a fuck if her best friend is standing right here. I reach out and pull Whitney to me until she's flush against my chest. "That's right, little girl," I murmur to her. "Your daddy knows what's best for you. That's why you're going to be a good little girl and do what he tells you, aren't you?"

"Jon," Whitney's voice comes out on a waver.

Posh must take the hint to get lost because when I look over, she's giving me a thumbs up and creeping off down the construction site.

Good. She must have gotten the message that Whitney isn't going to any party—not on my watch.

"Yes, baby," I croon to Whitney as I cup her throat, stroking my thumb along her racing pulse. She's practically purring in my arms, and my cock is rock hard. Hot damn, I knew this was what this girl needed.

"Daddy," Whitney whimpers, her eyelashes fluttering like crazy.

Possessive surges inside me. "That's right. You're mine. No one else is ever going to make you feel this good. I'll fucking kill a man before I let that happen."

As if to punctuate my thoughts, Whitney clasps her hands behind my neck and whispers, "Daddy, I want you to fuck me right here in the middle of the construction site for all to see."

Motherfucker.

CHAPTERSIX

Whitney

I can't believethe crazy things that come out of my mouth when I'm with Jon.

I know this is insane, but I'm not thinking straight anymore. I need the man in front of me—Jon.

Daddy.

Why does that word affect me the way it does? Something about Jon calling himself my daddy turns me on to no end.

It's wrong.

Taboo.

Dirty.

But I don't care. I fucking love it.

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