Page 17 of The Daddy Claus

I glancein the rearview mirror and see he’s still behind me. As I pull into the back parking lot, the big black SUV stops and idles on the road.

The tingling on the back of my neck tells me Jordan is watching as I walk toward the building entrance. After stepping through the glass door, I turn and give him a little wave.

He drives away, and I instantly miss his presence. These freaking hormones have turned me into a crazy woman. One second, I’m telling him I can take care of myself, and the next, I’m ready to cry because he left.

I fight with the lock on my apartment door and then open it to step in. After kicking off my shoes, I let them drop onto the tile floor with a thud. The black dress flats aren’t comfy like my usual work athletic shoes.

The two-bedroom apartment feels so small without Gabbi here to share it with. A crazy idea hits me out of the blue. Maybe I should get a cat to keep me company. Or even better, a dog.

While I contemplate complicating my life even more by adopting a pet, I change into my cozy pink and purple plaid pajamas and drop onto the sofa. Maybe I can find an episode of Supernatural.

I’m flipping through the channels when my phone rings. My heart jumps in my chest when I see Jordan’s name flash across the screen. “Hello,” I answer, wondering why he’s already checking on me.

“I needed to make sure you got into your apartment okay.” Goosebumps erupt all over my body as I remember his heated stare following my every movement at the restaurant.

My temperature rises as I sit back on the sofa. I bite back the snarky response flashing through my mind and sigh. “I made it in fine.” It’s a pretty freaking safe building. Both Sterling brothers insisted on investigating the building and neighborhood before Gabbi and I could sign the lease.

“What are you doing, princess?” The tone of his voice sends a shiver rolling through my body as my blood heats.

“Uh… I’m getting ready for bed.” It’s mostly true. After I watch a show, I’ll be tired enough to fall asleep.

Lately, I’ve been staying up later and later. Sleep eludes me as memories from our first night together refuse to leave me alone.

Every time I close my eyes, I remember the little things. I can still feel warm puffs of air hitting the side of my neck as he exhaled with each thrust, and the way he brushed my sweaty hair off the side of my face and a strand caught in the mask. He gently worked to release it, and the simple act melted my heart.

“Tell Daddy what you’re wearing to bed tonight.” Hearing the word “daddy” coming from Jordan instantly sends a spark of electricity straight down my spine, awakening nerve endings along the way.

“Pink…” I pause and look down at my cozy, completely unsexy pajamas. “Pink plaid pajamas.” I sound like a seventy-year-old grandmother now.

“You’d look stunning wearing a brown paper bag.” His words cause my heart to jump. “Daddy wants to play with you a little. Are you up to it tonight, princess?”

“We can try. I’ve never done this before.” I’ve never understood the appeal of phone sex.

“Good girl.” His deep voice wraps around me. “Daddy wants to know what the fabric feels like against your skin.”

“It feels good.” Good? It’s my first dirty sex call, and I’m winging it here. “I mean, it’s warm and soft, but I’d rather have Daddy’s warm hands moving over my body.” I’m pretty impressed with myself.

The phone muffles for a second, and I’m pretty sure I hear him growl, “Fuck me,” before his voice comes through strong again. “Do you have buttons on the pajama top?”

“Yes, Daddy.” I forget everything and fall into the intimate moment with him.

“Slowly unhook the buttons and let the top fall open.”

I follow his directions and pull the flannel pajama shirt open, exposing my sensitive boobs to the chilly air. “Okay.”

“Okay, what?”

What? I close my eyes and force my mushy mind to get with the program.

“Oh.” A light bulb goes off over my head. “Okay, Daddy.”

“You’re Daddy’s good little princess.” His praise melts the last of my resistance.

“Yes, Daddy. What do you want me to do now?” I hear his indrawn breath on the other end of the line and smile proudly to myself.

“Slide your hand slowly up your chest to your tit and rub your thumb across your nipple.”

He has no way of knowing if I’m doing what he’s telling me to do, but I can’t resist the urge to follow his orders. My breathing accelerates as I trail my fingertips slowly up the center of my chest. I lightly touch my extra-sensitive nipple.

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