YES, DADDY

___________________________________

By

Dani Wyatt

Copyright © 2019

by Dani Wyatt

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof

may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever

without the express written permission of the publisher

except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, businesses, places,

events and incidents are either the products

of the author’s imagination

or used in a fictitious manner.

Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead,

is purely coincidental.

www.daniwyatt.com

Cover Credit PopKitty

Editing Nicci Haydon

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

YES, DADDY

1

2

3

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

WHAT IF

OTHER TITLES BY DANI WYATT

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1

Vito

I WATCH AS THE AUTO shop owner counts the stacks of hundred-dollar bills.  He’s nervous.  I’m not like his typical customers, and my requests for the customizations on my new black Suburban were unique to say the least.

“We square?”  I grumble as I stare at my phone, answering texts and emails while he opens a safe behind his desk and stacks the money inside.

“Y—yes,” he stutters, taking the last of the cash and securing it in the little black box, unaware that I could break his safe in less than thirty seconds if I wanted to.

I paid nearly double the quote for the upgrades on my new ride under the condition that he would get it done off the books and in less than a week.

He did both, so I’m pleased, and I’ll send him more business from people like me who need services like his.  He may be nervous, but I have a sixth sense for people, and I’m betting he understands what loyalty means.

He rustles through a stack of papers on his desk, pushing empty coffee cups, screwdrivers and other shit around that looks like it’s been sitting there for years.  Every few seconds he glances my way with an apologetic nod, but all I want is for him to calm the fuck down.

I don’t think he knows exactly who I am, but he has an idea of what I am. We didn’t exchange names. Most people wouldn’t know me on sight, but they would know my name. My family has a history in Detroit, and I’ll admit not all of it is good.

In fact, most of it isn’t good.

But even without knowing my name, I’m intimidating.  Both in looks and presence.  Add to that, the bulletproof glass, reinforced-steel roll cage and other customizations, I think he’s got some idea I could be a problem for anyone I found didn’t serve me.

“Here. Your receipt.”  He raises the piece of paper from the desk with a shaky hand.

I scowl.  “I don’t want a fucking receipt.”  My brows draw together.  “What part of ‘no records’ did you not understand?”

“I’m sorry.”  He slowly pulls the paper back to him.  “I just thought you might want a...list of everything we did.  I don’t know how this works...”  He rubs the center of his forehead with his other hand.

“Did you do everything I asked?”

He nods.

“Then I know what you did.  I don’t forget things.  Or people.”

I see him swallow hard as he tears the receipt into tiny pieces and throws them into a trash can.  I hold out my hand, and he takes it in a limp shake that has me fighting off the urge to squeeze harder and give him a speech about being a man. Instead, I opt to get on with my evening.  I’ve got some uncomfortable business to take care of, and I don’t like to put things off just because they're unpleasant.

If I did, I’d never get anything done.

He raises the shop door as I hop in the Suburban and start it up.  It rumbles under me, then the noise disappears completely as I shut the door—the stone silence of the interior is just what I requested.

The first flash of lightning brightens the dark sky as I pull out of the garage and make my turn toward my former business partner’s office.

My former office.

But things change.  Even in my somewhat shady business, people draw lines and have their own limits. There are things I won’t do.  I’m no saint—I’ve done things that would make most mothers cry. But it’s how I grew up, and the truth is, my mother was proud of me.

God rest her soul.  She passed away three years ago from complications of pneumonia.  My dad preceded her by ten years, taking a slug from a rival family while he was having dinner at a now closed business-friendly restaurant downtown.

He was eating spaghetti with my former partner’s father one second and taking a bullet between the eyes the next. The other guy got a bullet into the shooter, but it was too late for my father.  Our families have been friends and partners of one sort or another for three generations. Salvatore and I grew up together, got in scrapes together, and always had each other’s back.

Unfortunately, when Sal started to branch off into sex work with girls barely old enough to drive, I drew my line in the sand and made it clear we were going to part ways.

I’m willing to take a financial hit to distance myself as quickly as possible from that shit, and honestly, I’m seeing a side of him that makes me glad we’re dissolving our business relationship.

I’ll still manage a lot of the weapons sales. That’s been under my supervision primarily, and Sal doesn’t have the knowledge necessary to make it work.  Trying to persuade a buyer that you know what you’re talking about, when all you really know is how to point a gun, is liable to get you killed.

As for me, I know what I’m talking about, and I can hold my own if it comes to it, but I don’t pull the trigger these days unless it’s personal. The liquor and protection will be split evenly, as well as some of the enforcement.  I have taken to contracting most of the hands-on work in that department over the years, so if that’s the price of leaving, I’m willing to let it go.

Truth is, I’m happier than I’ve been in years.  Going solo suits me right now, which shouldn’t come as a surprise, given my philosophy when it comes to my personal life.  I watched my parents love story crumble around them when my father took up with some side action, watched it break my mother’s heart.  She stuck with him; why, I don’t know. Tradition, I guess. But I lost all respect for him and any drive to have a happily ever after of my own.

Because it doesn’t exist.

My phone lights up as I sit at a red light, and I see it’s my sister, Maria.

“Hello,” I answer, putting her on speaker.

“What are you so grumpy about?”  Her light voice takes a bit of the darkness from inside the car.  She looks, sounds, and has a lot of mannerisms like my mother—both of them perpetual optimists with kind hearts but steel backbones.

“I’m not grumpy, just on my way to a meeting I don’t particularly want to have. What’s up?”  I’m within a few minutes of my destination, but I always answer when she calls if at all possible. She’s my only family left, and while she may be a pain in my ass, I love her with every inch of my heart. Even if she does ride my ass like Zorro trying to get me to go legit, have a wife, family, picket fence and some hairy mutt to trip over.

“Just wanted to remind you about dinner Monday.  Rebecca will be there.” There’s a sing-song lilt to her voice, and I roll my eyes and try to hold back my irritation.

She’s been trying to set me up for years, but she’s leveled up her push the last few months. I’ve dated, if you can call it that, but found that most of the women weren’t all that interested in me.  They wanted the lifestyle and the pocketbook that came with it.

Or it could just be that I'm a grouchy fuck. Doesn’t matter, I wasn’t all that interested in them, to tell the truth.  Something just never clicked, and love has never been a priority to me.

It’s not just the lack of belief that love is real, that it can last or is worth the effort. It’s also that my life is non-stop, 24/7 work. Dangerous work. And I could never have someone attached to me who could be used as a weakness. So, love, relationships, kids...it’s just not on my radar.

“Yeah, probably not going to make it, sis.”

“Please, Vito.  You need to have some life other than business.  You’re going to wake up one day and look back and see that’s not what matters.”

The family business never did sit right with Maria.  She took her own track, going to nursing school, but she still lives in our family home, which is just fine with me.  It’s big.  Bigger than she needs, with lots of upkeep necessary, but I help out with all the expenses because despite my grumpy nature, family sticks together.

Even with my father’s indiscretions, we had a happy life mainly due to our mother and her unwillingness to have their marital troubles intrude on her children’s lives. Then, as we grew older, my father’s frequent business trips and the times we would find our mother crying started to make more sense.

“Now is not the time for a lecture.  I’ll let you know if I can come, but I’m busy now.”

“Fine. You’re always busy,” she grouses.  “I love you, you big idiot.  I’ll bother you tomorrow.”

We sign off, and I take the last turn toward Salvatore’s office as a bolt of lightning flashes and torrents of rain suddenly start to soak the streets and the car.

Thunder claps so loud I can hear it in the silence of the car, and lightning fills the sky as I move down the nearly abandoned downtown street.  No one is out in this neighborhood at night, even when the weather is nice; add a storm like this, and it looks like a ghost town of old warehouses and boarded-up storefronts.

I pass a few glowing neon ‘Open’ signs in some dumpy bar windows, but other than that there is little sign of life tonight.

I slow the SUV as rain splashes across the windshield, making visibility near zero.  Then another bolt of lightning flashes. It strikes a streetlamp just in front of me, lighting up the night for a split second with a cascade of sparks, and I’m momentarily blinded. Thunder follows loud enough to shake the car.

I throw my arm up to shield my eyes, but as I do, there’s a thud from the front of the vehicle and the front bumper warning sensors go off.

I slam on the brakes as another flash lights up the night.  “Fuck!”  I bring the huge SUV to a dead stop, peering out my driver’s window into the wet street, straining in the dark and rain to see what I’ve hit. I see a red dress soaked and clinging around a motionless body lying in the street.

I throw open my door, my heart pounding, and a flood of relief rushes through me as she moans, trying to sit up.

“Easy.” I cradle the back of her head and see blood mixing with the rain and making a red rivulet in her blonde hair.

Her red lips open as she tries to breathe through the downpour, eyelids fluttering as she looks up at me.

And suddenly I feel like I’m falling.

Tumbling into the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen.  Her bright red lipstick matches her soaking silk dress, which clings to her every curve and shows off hardened nipples under the thin fabric.

“You hit me!”  she snaps, blinking away the rain that clings to her dark lashes.

“I didn’t see you.”

She winces and brings her hand to the side of her head, pushing herself up on the pavement with her other arm.

“I’m wearing a red dress,” she hisses, motioning with her hands to her midsection. “How could you not see me?”  She smacks my hand from the back of her head. “Stop touching me!”

I feel a loss as she shoves my hand away, and I want to scoop her up to draw her in closer.  “I’m sorry.  It’s not the greatest weather for seeing things,” I mutter, unused to making excuses or apologizing.  “Even beautiful, red things.”

2

Esme

THERE ARE BAD DAYS.

Then there are bad days.

After everything else going on in my life, I’m now laying in the street, soaking wet, looking up at a man that looks like he could kill me with his pinkie.

Or break my heart with his eyes.

“What are you doing running around out here in the rain, anyway?”  he asks, reaching down to slide his hand under my back even after I slapped him away a second ago.

I let it go because...ugh...I kind of want his hands on me.

“That’s on a need-to-know basis,” I snip, the pressure from the day and the horrific outcome of what I thought could be a saving-grace job bringing out more bitchiness than is my usual.  “And you don’t need to know.”

“Okay, then.”  His voice is as deep as the thunder rumbling above, and another crash and flash of lightning make me startle and yelp.  “I don’t need to know, but I do know we both need to get off this street.  Let me get you in the car before we become lightning rods—or we both get run over.  You okay to stand?”

He runs his hand down one leg, then the other, making my heart pound.  It’s not sexual—his touch feels protective—but it’s having a crazy effect on me nonetheless.

The headlights from his SUV show a face that looks like it’s seen its share of fights, but the ruggedness gives him an edge that is wildly sexy.  He’s older, like a lot older, but that, too, is only adding to whatever voodoo he seems to have cast over me. Rain is dripping from thick black hair plastered onto a jutting forehead and running down over lips that were made for kissing.

Even crouched down next to me, he’s enormous.  Like, otherworldly enormous.  And I wonder if he has to have all his clothes custom made.

I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment, realizing it must just be the bump on my head making me feel weird.

“Yes, I can stand,” I answer, shifting my legs under me and smoothing the wet fabric of my dress down around them, trying to shake away the vulgar porno playing with him as the lead in my head.  “They don’t hurt, just scratches.”

That’s a lie because my head is pounding, and my knees are burning from smacking the pavement. Water is running into my eyes and down my face, soaking through the dress and sticking it to my skin.  My nipples tingle and harden, and I’m not entirely sure if it’s from the freezing rain or something else.

There’s something about this guy that feels both dangerous and safe at the same time.  He looks like he belongs in a boardroom, but the energy around him feels more like The Godfather.

He helps me up, leads me around to the passenger door and lifts me up and inside before jogging around the front of the SUV and hopping in the driver’s side while I fight back more tears.

When I showed up for work yesterday morning at the courthouse, bringing everyone who’s anyone their morning coffee, as usual, I did the best I could to hide my swollen, red eyes. I had spent the night before at the dining room table with my mother at the home where I grew up, two hours away in Greenbriar, going over the mountainous stack of medical bills and other past-due expenses for my father’s now full-time nursing home care.

He broke his back falling off a ladder six months ago. I offered to postpone school and come home and help, but my parents were both adamant that the best thing I could do for them was to stay in school and work my hardest.  So that’s what I did in between bus trips home to visit and offer the best support I could.

My parents ran a house painting company their whole lives, but when Dad fell, their medical insurer weaseled out of paying, citing a loophole in their policy that work-related injuries needed to be covered by a separate rider.  I didn’t know how serious their financial struggles were until the night before last, when Mom finally told me that, despite fighting, there was no insurance money.

The only saving grace, as I know from a case I worked on, is that as long as we make a payment plan with the doctors, hospital, rehab, etc., we can manage it all.  But they still need money every month to make that happen.

Being an intern for the district attorney’s office was what I planned for all year. I saved money from my waitressing job to be sure I could afford a little apartment and my meager expenses for the summer. I got a full-ride academic scholarship to the University of Michigan, so I could save almost everything I made during the school year. Little did I know taking an unpaid internship—emphasis on unpaid—would leave me desperate and wondering if I’d made a terrible mistake.

Hence the need to find paid employment that could fit around my work schedule.

Yeah, that didn’t exactly work out as planned.

I glance over now to see the man looking at me.  His size is even more evident here inside the vehicle.  He takes up the entire space behind the wheel with the seat pushed back as far as possible, and I wonder if I’ve just put myself in another position I will regret.

“Here.”  He reaches into the back seat and pulls a suit jacket off a hanger, handing it to me.  “Lean forward.”

I’m shivering, so I do as he asks, and his monstrous hands wrap the jacket around me as though I’m as delicate as a rose, then I settle back in the seat, wondering what the hell I’m going to do now.

I reach up and wince as my fingers touch the throbbing knot just above my temple where my head hit the street.

“Thanks,” I mumble, running my hands up and down my arms under the jacket.  “I’m fine now. I’ll call an Uber.  Or just drop me off somewhere I can go inside.  I’ll find my way home.”

“I’m taking you to the hospital.”

“No,” I half shout, then try to control my tone.  “I’m fine.  It’s a little bump, no hospital.”  I shake my head, and it makes me dizzy.

He clears his throat as he puts the oddly quiet SUV into gear and begins to drive forward.  His masculine scent is mixed with the unmistakable new-car smell as he turns up the heat, and the warm air blows around my feet.

“You hit your head. You need an X-ray at the very least.”

“Just, I can’t—”

“Can’t what?”

“I’m fine,” I try again, but I can see he’s having none of it, so I decide to try the truth.  “I don’t have insurance.  I can’t afford a hospital, and I’m really fine.”  The pain in my head begs to differ, but having gone through all the bills from my father, I know what one simple emergency room visit is going to cost.

“Don’t worry about that.  I hit you. You aren’t responsible for paying.  I insist you go, and I’ll take care of any costs.”  His tone darkens, and it makes me nervous, but in a way that feels exciting.

I chew on my bottom lip, trying to get a grip on this energy I feel between this stranger and me.  For all I know, and with the day I’m having, he’s probably a serial killer.

But somehow, and maybe it’s the bump on my head, I can’t fight this odd attraction I feel toward my soon-to-be murderer.

We drive toward the hospital in silence, then after barely a minute, his hand comes over to take mine from my lap and my heart leaps.  He looks over, and I see kindness in his dark eyes and feel warmth in his touch.

“You’ll be okay. I’ll make sure of it.”

I nod, unsure what else to say or do, and my thoughts drift back to why I was running around in the rain in the first place.

After delivering the coffee to everyone yesterday morning at work, there was a bright spot when one of the paralegals came around my desk and asked me what was wrong.  Her name is Nadine, she’s been decent with me since I started, and she's easy to talk to. She’s the sort of person that tells you how pretty you are just to brighten your day like she’s not three steps higher up the ladder than me.  So, feeling ready to snap and running on little sleep, I gave her the Reader’s Digest condensed version of what's going on with my parents.

She listened quietly, then peeled a Post-it note from the pad on my desk and wrote down a name and number.

She said it was a friend of a friend, someone who might be able to give me some evening work; not a lot of hours and for good money.  He might even be able to give me an advance.

My heart soared at the prospect of being able to do something to help my parents and keep my internship. Nadine told me all she knew was he had connections with clubs and high-end restaurants, and I’d be a hostess or something like that.

I called as soon as she walked away.  He asked who sent me, and when I told him, he said to come to his office at 9 p.m. the next day, Saturday, and gave me the address.  Said I came with a good reference, so he was sure he could help me out.

Nadine told me to dress like I was going to a five-star restaurant, so I spent the better part of today looking through clearance racks with my friend Karen until I finally found this red silk Calvin Klein dress that had been marked down three times.  It accommodated my curves in a way even I thought looked pretty darn good.

Unfortunately, as it turns out, it wasn’t exactly the work I thought it would be.

When I met Mr. Salvatore tonight—no last name—he said I was exactly what he was looking for.  He proceeded to give me a rundown of the potential monetary arrangements, all of which had my hopes up, and the hours I’d be expected to work.  He then started describing the duties of the job, none of which sounded like hostess work to me. By this point, I was already starting to panic and look for the nearest exit, and then...he took his cock out and told me it was time to audition.

Fast forward to me running out into the rain without calling my Uber for a ride.

And now, here I am.

Soaking wet, in more ways than one.  Holding the hand of this monster-sized man, whom I know nothing about—including his name—only that he hit me with his car.  But there’s a feeling I'm getting from him that he’s responsible for me in some way, and as much as my rational mind tells me it’s insane, I have to say that I like it.

As he holds my hand, we pull up to the hospital. He looks over, and I see his face a little better in the bright lights from the front of the building.

He licks his bottom lip, then his front teeth, and I notice one is chipped, but it only makes him sexier to me.

“Sit tight.  I’ll get a wheelchair.”  He squeezes my fingers one last time then lets them go.

“I don’t need a wheel—”  He brings two fingers to my lips and presses, narrowing his eyes in a way that tells me there won’t be any negotiation.

As I watch him move out of the car and through the sliding doors into the emergency room, I realize I've decided he’s probably not a serial killer.

But as my heart flutters in my chest and my palms sweat, I think...he might just be the death of me.

3

Vito

BY THE TIME WE PULL up to her apartment after the hospital, it’s 3 a.m., and Esme is resting her head against the passenger window with her eyes closed.  The bright red lipstick has faded, showing me the cherry pink of her natural lips.

Her dress has long since dried, but while it was wet and clinging to her, I drank in every delicious inch of her voluptuous body.  She’s from another age.  The Venus of paintings that hang in museums have nothing on her, and for the first time in as long as I can remember, my cock is awake from its seemingly perpetual slumber.

During our time at the hospital, I sat with her and held her hand while they took blood because she looked like a lamb going to slaughter. When it was over, I didn’t let go, and she didn’t pull away. The way her eyes looked to me for comfort lit up something inside of me I’ve never felt until now.

We were quiet most of the time, even though I wanted to know all about her.  But it wasn’t the time.  It was too sterile an environment, and there was too much going on for me to give her the attention she needs when she tells me all the things I’ll need to know.

Because I will need to know.

At least I now know her name.  Esme.

Just the shape of that name in my mind is making me hard.  I also know she’s first-year pre-law at U of M.  Sweet, beautiful, smart.  Trifecta.

I did ask if there was anyone else she wanted to call, but she said no, and while I wanted to press her for more, I held back. She’s only just met me and doesn’t know yet what’s going to happen between us.

She did get a text from a friend while we were waiting and told me she let her know where she was.  I’m not sure how much of that was to make sure I knew she wasn’t alone. She said the friend works nights, but after hearing where Esme was, she said she’ll be checking in to see how Esme is doing in a few hours when she gets off work.

She kept saying how she wasn’t really hurt anyway and didn’t want to be more of a bother than she already was.

Wow.  She has no idea how much she is not bothering me.

When I asked her again what she had been doing running out into the street at that time of night, she gave me some whitewashed story about meeting someone a few blocks away for a drink and that it didn’t go well, then her Uber didn’t show.

I immediately wanted to grill her about who it was and exactly where they were.  I was ready to find the fucker and pound his ass into the ground.  But just as I started to ask her more questions, a nurse came in, and I decided to drop it. At least for the moment.

A few hours later, they finally gave her the all-clear, but with any bump on the head it’s best to be cautious.  And while I barely know her, I already know I’d lay waste to armies to protect this girl.

I shut off the Suburban and watch her sleep for a moment.  I’ll admit my fantasies about her are more than indecent.  Bordering on depraved, and it shocks me.

Not just because I probably have twenty years on her, or that she’s a beauty the likes of which I've never seen, but because I don’t remember ever having this particular range of emotions before.

It’s been many years since my interest was last piqued by a female.  More than I can count.  I’m no monk, but with the empty feeling I had about most of the women who were drawn to me in the past, I guess I just decided I’d go without.

My sister, Maria, keeps telling me I need to feel that spark. That’s how I’ll know.

Well, Esme is setting off a shit ton of sparks.

I watch her sleep for another few minutes, and as much as I know I could watch her for hours, I decide she needs to get inside and into bed. I reach over and brush her blonde hair off her shoulder then run my fingers down the flesh of her arm, and my already half-hard cock thickens at the contact.

“Hey.”  I move my hand back upward and trace my thumb on her neck, and she sniffles then looks over at me with glazed eyes.

“God.  Sorry.”  She pushes her hair back behind her ears, brushing mine as she looks at me with those seductive, turquoise eyes, and I’m lost again in the feeling that I’m falling.  “I fell asleep.”

“It’s okay.  You’ve had a big day.”  My cock twitches as I look into her sleepy face, wanting to see her like that in the morning.  In my bed.  After fucking her into unconsciousness.

“Thank God tomorrow is Sunday and I can sleep in.”  Her lips curve into a soft smile. “I mean today, I guess.”

“Let’s get you inside.”

“Really, I’m fine, you’ve done more than enough...”

“Sorry, I’m not leaving you.  Doctor said someone should be with you for twenty-four hours.”

“I know, my friend is coming when she gets off work at six.  I can handle it for a few hours.”

“Nope.”  I step out and move around to her side of the car, opening her door and wrapping her in my arms.  “You’re my responsibility at the moment.”

What I want to say, what I’m feeling...is she is my responsibility. Period.

From now on.

And I don’t care how crazy that sounds.

“You’re stubborn.”  She smiles, and it lights up my heart.

“I can be.”

We walk up the two flights of stairs to her door.  It’s an old Victorian house converted into apartments.  Not a total dump, but not where she deserves to live, either.  And in the back of my mind, I make a note to change her living situation—soon.

Inside, she flips on a light, and I look around.  Her place is neat but small.  The living room is open to an efficiency kitchen where I see a single plate and glass resting on a floral dishtowel next to the sink.

There’s a bowl of oranges on a two-person café-style table with an older laptop and a stack of textbooks on one of the chairs.  The soft floral scent in the room is almost like her own but not nearly as sweet.

For a simple apartment, the décor is warm and original.  Pops of orange and yellow draw my eye around the room, and the furniture—although simple and looking like it has a decade or more under its belt—has been paired with colorful quilts and modern pillows that give the entire space a creative sophistication I could see spread in a magazine.

She sets her purse down, and her keys clatter on the faded Formica counter next to it.  “I’ve never had a man in my apartment before.”  She grins, twisting her lips to the side. “And I...” she stalls, squinting an eye at me, then pushes her blonde hair back behind her ears again as her tongue touches her top lip.

“What?”  I shove my hands down in my pockets, trying to control my hard-on.  When she said no man has been here before, the embers that were already hot inside of me burst into a flame, and there’s someone else coming alive I’m not sure I can control.

She laughs, shaking her head.  “I don’t even know your name.  That doesn’t seem very wise, does it?”

“My name’s Vito.  I’m not here to hurt you.  If I wanted to hurt you, I’ve had plenty of opportunities already, yes?”

She nods, her cheeks turning bright pink as her hands drop to hug her waist with the amazing side effect of pushing her incredible tits higher, so they nearly spill out of the V neck of her dress.

“True.” She lifts one hand and rubs her eyes.  “I’m sorry, I should offer you something...coffee...but I don’t have a coffee maker. Or coffee. I have milk, tea or water.”  She licks her lips, and there’s discomfort in her eyes.

“I’m fine.  You need to rest.  I’ll sit right here on the couch.”

I already know I’m never going to want to leave, but telling her that right now wouldn’t serve to ease her discomfort.  One way or another, though, this will not be the last time we are together.

“Okay, I’m sorry.” She pushes her hair behind her ears again.  “I’m so tired.” Her eyelids flutter, and her hands come to rest at the base of her neck, and I wonder if her heart is beating as hard as mine.

“Go.”  I nod toward the door I’m assuming is her bedroom.  “But once you're asleep, I’m going to come in and check on you, so don’t lock your door.”

Her eyes widen, looking like a doe unsure which way to turn.

“I won’t hurt you,” I repeat, and the truth of my words hits me down low.

Not only will I never hurt her, but I pity anyone that does.  Because this thing she’s lit inside of me has me already half-crazed with a sense of protectiveness I’ve never experienced—not even with my own family.

Without another word, she turns on a heel and goes into the bedroom, shutting the door softly behind her, and I release the long sigh that’s filled my chest as I let my chin drop and wonder how I’m ever going to let her out of my sight again.

I decide to give her thirty minutes before I go in and check on her, and it feels like an eternity.  I poke around in her kitchen and open the refrigerator to see half a loaf of wheat bread, a package of sliced cheese, a half-gallon of milk, a pitcher of what looks like iced tea and a few bottles of condiments and salad dressing.

From there, I open and shut every cupboard door. Most everything looks sad and tired, but inside one upper cabinet I see something that makes me smile.

There’s a large plastic container with “Top Secret Waffle Mix” written on the side in red marker.  On the shelf below is what looks like an antique waffle maker, but its shape is unusual.  I reach in and open the top to see the irons are heart-shaped, and I envision her dancing around in the kitchen making me waffles. To my shock, it makes my balls tighten, and I feel wet drops of cum seep out of my cock.

I’ve got a waffle fetish.  Who knew?

I step out of the kitchen and check out the books on the little table and see they are beyond my level of schooling.  I’m not stupid, but my education came mostly from my father and experience.

My mother wanted me to go to college.  Instead, I followed in the footsteps of a few generations of the men in our family, leaving the academics to my sister, Maria, who fulfilled Mom’s dreams of having at least one of her children graduate from college.

I pick up each book and see one for calculus, one for English lit, and finally one for basic accounting.

After I find out as much as I can from looking around, I can’t stand it anymore and decide I’ve waited long enough to check in on her.  I ease the door to her bedroom open and hold my breath as it squeaks, then I slip inside.  This isn’t my first time walking into someone’s bedroom without waking them, but in the past it was under less pleasant circumstances.

Her room is sparsely decorated with a twin bed, a nightstand made from a couple of stacked milk crates and a desk held together with duct tape, although somehow she has made it look trendy and fun.  Still, this is no way for her to live.

There’s a nightlight casting a glow across her face, and my obsession surges when I see the innocence on her sleeping face.  One bare leg is on top of a threadbare pink blanket, and I step closer to her, unable to keep the distance between us any longer.  Her silky blonde hair is spread across an embroidered lavender pillowcase, and her plump lips are slightly open, making it hard as hell not to lean down and kiss her.

I rest my fingers at her ankle and hear the blood rushing through my ears.  I can’t stop. I run my hand up her calf, and the silky texture of her skin has my cock jumping and my heart pounding.  I dare to push the fabric covering her a few inches upward until I can touch the inside of her thigh, knowing where it would lead if I kept going.

My mouth waters, imagining how all her sweet pink parts would taste, like heaven and magic.  Obsession burns through me, and I wonder if anyone has touched her before.  Kissed her.  Fucked her.

Jesus.

If anyone has fucked her, I’ll find them and kill them.

Whatever this is, it’s insanity, but I don’t care.  I’ve been overtaken by a madman, but I don’t ever want to go back to who I was before I met her.

The warmth of her skin under my fingers is making hot blood surge through my veins and thickening my already painful hard-on.  I shouldn’t touch her like this in her sleep, but I can’t bring myself to stop.

She sighs and shifts onto her back, mumbling something unintelligible, but I pretend it’s my name and she’s dreaming about me. I hold my hand still, but I don’t withdraw.  I can’t.  In my warped mind, she is mine already.  She is my property.  I want to protect her and use her and comfort her and give her everything...and take what’s mine when I like, how I like, for as long as I like.

I’m possessed by her already, and I never want to be exorcised of whatever demon has overtaken me.

I feel more alive now than at any other time in my life, and I want more.  If I’m this crazed already, I can’t imagine what will happen once I taste her.

Once I’m inside her.

I push the blanket further upward, then lift and fold it back to see she’s wearing lime-green cotton panties that ride high on her lush hips.  I see the indent of her slit and want to run my tongue through that groove.  I’m teased by the Star Trek T-shirt she’s wearing.  Like her furniture, it looks vintage with a serious-looking James T. Kirk staring back at me, the fabric bunched just under her braless tits.

Wildness bends my thoughts in depraved ways, but I won’t go any further.

Not now at least.

I squeeze my eyes shut and take a deep breath, heat blasting through me as I cover her again and lean down, breathing her in.

Before I retreat, I press my lips to hers for a moment, feeling her warm breath on mine, and inhale sharply to take her inside me in this small way.

“Sleep well, my Bambina,” I whisper into her ear before taking my leave, softly pulling the bedroom door closed behind me.

Outside the door, I lean one forearm against the wall and drop my other hand to bring release to my throbbing dick.

I fist the steel girth; it only takes a few strokes before I’m cumming in my hand, thoughts of my lips on hers fueling my release.

One touch, and I’ll never be the same.  I don’t know what sort of monster I will become once I take all of her, but I know one thing: Anyone that hurts her will face a wrath unlike any I’ve unleashed before.

3

Esme

KAREN UNFOLDS THE TOP of the brown grocery bag, then starts lifting out white take-out containers.

“It’s eight in the morning,” I groan, touching the bump on my head and pulling my legs under me as I shove a pillow behind my back on the sofa.  “Who eats Thai food at eight in the morning?”

She bobs her head back and forth, making her slick black hairbrush at her shoulders.  “Me.”  She smirks.  “And you. Hey, I just got off work, so feels like dinner time to me.”

I met her on the bus to the courthouse the week I started my internship.  She was headed there herself to pay some overdue parking tickets for her loser boyfriend, who she—thank goodness—kicked to the curb soon after we met.

The bus was full, the seat next to her the only empty space, and as luck would have it, she can make friends out of rocks. I liked her immediately, and we look like yin and yang twins.  She has the exact same hair as mine, shoulder length, thick and always a bit messy with bangs, except hers is jet black.

Her eyes are nearly as dark as her hair, and her skin is a deep olive that makes her look like she’s just disembarked from a month-long tropical cruise.  We match each other almost exactly in height and weight and enjoy finding clothes for each other on our thrift store outings nearly every weekend.

In getting to know each other, we figured out we have a fear of driving in common, as well. So we buy a lot of bus tokens and are able to figure out the route to wherever we are going without even looking at a line map.

She pokes two sets of chopsticks into two of the containers, then comes over to join me on my faded blue crushed-velvet sofa that looks like it came out of the Formans’ basement on That '70s Show.

My apartment is within walking distance or a quick bus ride to the courthouse.  I rented it for next to nothing, and it came partially furnished—thank goodness.  I do love to make places look nice, but even I need something to work with.  At school, a few other girls even asked me to help them decorate their dorm rooms after seeing mine. So with some luck, clearance finds and thrift stores, I’ve made this little place look pretty nice, if I do say so myself.

I take a deep breath over the takeout container, and as the scent of red pepper and peanut sauce makes my mouth water, I realize I haven’t eaten anything since yesterday morning.

“So, what gives with the goon?”  Karen shovels a bite of noodles into her mouth and raises her eyebrows, staring at me.

I swallow my first bite, the butterflies in my belly swarming as I think of Vito.

“He’s not a goon,” I shoot back, more sharply than I should.  “He was just trying to do the right thing.”

She slurps a noodle between her lips and rolls her eyes. She’s still in her work clothes, black overalls with a red t-shirt, the uniform for the building maintenance company she works for cleaning offices at night. The pant legs are rolled up almost to her knees, showing off a pair of purple socks with green Frankenstein characters running up the sides.  Her little rebellion against the less-than-flattering uniform.

“The doctor said I shouldn’t be alone, so he was probably trying to keep me from suing him.”  The reality hits me like a punch in the gut as I wonder if my statement holds some merit.

“Oh! Reminds me...”  She sets the container down on the coffee table and jumps up, walks to the counter, and grabs a piece of paper before handing it to me. “Yeah, I don’t think he’s just trying to keep you from suing him, my dear.”

I set my food down and take the paper from her hands.

My heart starts pounding when I see the thick black writing.  Shifting on the sofa, I push my hair behind my ear and start reading.

Sweet girl,

I am leaving you with your friend for now.  I have some things to take care of today, but I will be back.  I hope when you wake your head is feeling better.  If not, I’ve set out two Tylenol for you in your bathroom. (If you haven’t seen them already by the time you read this.)  You can take two more every six hours until your headache subsides.

Know that when I return, if you are still in pain, we will be making a return trip to the hospital as I will not risk that there could be some other complications that were not detected last night.

I look up to see Karen grinning.  “Did you read it?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at her, and she nods.

“Of course I did.”  Her matter-of-fact answer doesn’t surprise me.  “I get here, there’s some Italian Stallion-slash-linebacker dude who hit you with his car, there’s a note on the counter from him to you, and I’m not going to read it?  Do you know me?”

“You’re impossible,” I reply, then lower my eyes to finish reading the note.

I did not get your phone number before you went to sleep, my oversight.  I need you to text me when you wake to let me know how you are feeling.  You will find my number at the bottom here.

As well, I will let you know when I will return, and depending on how you are doing, I will tell you what tonight’s plans will be.

Until then, my Bambina, rest, and know I will be back for you.

Vito

My head is spinning as I re-read the note and feel the tension rising in my belly at the thought of his return—and why I seem to be so entranced by a man I barely know.

“My Bambina?”  Karen snorts, taking another bite of noodles off her chopsticks.

“Shut it.”  I poke mine toward her.  “He’s just being nice.  Gentlemen are unusual these days, that’s all.”

“Uh-huh.”  She rolls her eyes as she chews, and I fail to restrain the smile that curves my lips. She swallows then goes on. “So, what exactly happened last night?  How did you end up getting hit?”

My mood darkens, remembering where I was and why.  “I had an interview for a job.”

“Cool. Where?”

“It was with this guy, Salvatore.  The fact that he didn’t give me a last name should have tipped me off.  Nadine from work gave me his number, so I called, and he said to come down for an interview last night.  As soon as I got there, it felt off.  It was this old warehouse. The job was supposed to be as a hostess for some club, so I thought maybe they just don’t do interviews there, or maybe it’s some trendy basement club or something, but...”

“What?”

“It wasn’t.  And it wasn’t the kind of club I thought it would be, either.  As soon as he started talking, I knew I wasn’t what they wanted.  And the interview turned into more of a tryout for what I think was the real job.”  I raise my eyebrows, hoping she will catch on. “It was being a special sort of hostess.”

“No shit.  Like he wanted you to do something?”

“Yeah, he told me about this private club, the pay would be great. Then he asked if I was ‘experienced.’  Said if I was a virgin, the pay would be a lot more.  Before I could figure out how to get out of there, he had unzipped his pants and told me to show him how much I needed the job.”

“God damn.  I’m so sorry, Esme. Fucking men.”  She shakes her head with a disgusted look on her face.

I shrug.  “It’s okay.  I should have punched him in the face, but there were about six other guys in the office when I walked through, so all I could think of was to run.  So, I ran. Out the door, down the street through the rain, and with all that thunder and lightning and being in this crazy panic, I thought I could make it across the street, but I tripped and fell straight into Vito’s car.”

“Wow.  Enter the white knight on his trusty steed, racing in to save the day.”

I feel my heart thumping at the memory of Vito kneeling and picking me up off the pavement.  How he looked at me like a precious broken doll, then did everything he could to put me back together.

For his size and manner, he was so gentle.  He felt fatherly almost, but with this underlying gritty sexiness unlike anything I’ve imagined before.

I shiver, thinking of each time he touched me, oddly entitled.  I should have been furious, but I was more flattered.  He took control of me in a way, and I hate to admit how much I liked it.  I barely know him, but I feel as though there is this unreasonable connection between us that has its hooks already sinking into me.

Just thinking of him has my pulse racing and heat coursing through my veins.  We barely know each other, and to most I’m sure he’s frightening.  But all I feel is this sense that somehow he’s here just for me.

Whatever is going on, I’m craving more. Thoughts I’ve never had about a man or boy before careen around in my mind.  Vito is big, and for the first time in my life, I am wondering if he is big all over.

Karen interrupts, cock-blocking my dirty thoughts.  “So, we know Vito is the hero of this story.  But all we know about the asshole is that he’s Salvatore?  Are you sure you didn’t walk into an episode of The Sopranos last night?”

I shrug.  “Coincidence.”

“And someone at work referred you to him?”

“Yeah, Nadine.  She’s a paralegal.  She asked me what was wrong Friday, and I don’t know, I just spilled.  About Mom, Dad, the bills, everything.  She’s always been nice to me, and she seemed to really care, said a friend of hers knew someone with a club that was hiring evening staff, good money.  I can’t imagine she knows what it was really about. I mean, she works for the DA...”

“Weird.  Like, 'something smells funny' weird.”

I shrug, the dark cloud over me returning.  “Back to square one.”

Karen and I finish our food and put on a movie.  I’m still tired, and I lay my head on the arm of the sofa.

“Here.”  Karen reaches to grab the crocheted afghan from behind her on the sofa and throws it over me.  “Take a little nap.  How’s your head feel?”

“Fine,” I answer, my eyelids already drooping.  “It feels fine.”  I let them close, and visions of what Vito might be packing under that suit lull me into a lust-filled sleep.

4

Vito

“FUCK.”  I LOOK DOWN at my phone and see there still isn’t a message from Esme.

I told her to message me when she woke up, and it’s now almost 11 a.m.  She could still be asleep, but I’m anxious as fuck that something could be wrong.

“What the fuck is your problem today?”  Malcolm Fideri sounds more curious than irritated.  He’s a work associate and my friend.  He’ll be working with me more now that I’ve broken away from Salvatore, and today we had meetings with a few contractors about doing work on our new offices.

I want to lean toward looking, and being, more legit.  Meeting Esme last night has only fueled my fire to live a life I can be proud of.

A life we can both be proud of.

Because that’s how I’m thinking now. I can’t help it—she's in every thought I have.  How what I do in every way could affect her and our life.

Our. Life.

“Nothing, I’ve just got things on my mind.”

“I’ve seen you with things on your mind before. You’re never like this.”

“New things.  Personal things.”

He chuckles.  “You have personal things?  Since when do you have personal things?”

“Since last night,” I bark back.

He holds his hands up in mock surrender.  “Does this something have a name?  Does this something have anything to do with you sending the workers to your house and all that other shit you’ve been doing all morning on the computer?”

“Maybe,” I answer, at the same time replying to a text message from the owner of the security company that services my home.

I have them doing a complete upgrade on my system to include more interior and exterior cameras, infrared sensors, anything and everything that I need to be sure she will be safe when she’s home.  Things I should have done years ago but never got around to while it was just me.

“You got any pictures of this something?”

Before I can shut him down, Malcolm grabs the phone out of my hand, dodging my attempts to snatch it back long enough to bring up a photo I took last night of Esme while she slept. Luckily, all it shows is her face. I don’t know what I’d do if he got even a glimpse of what’s mine.

“Give the fucking phone back, Malcolm, or I’ll shoot you where you stand.”

He laughs, but he hands it over. “Jesus, you’re serious?”

“Deadly.”

“And her name?”

“What are you?  Like sixteen and female all of a sudden?  What do you care?”

He shakes his head. “No, but I’m fascinated by this turn of events.”

Malcolm and I haven’t known each other all our lives the way that Salvatore and I have, but what our friendship lacks in history, it makes up for in trust. Malcolm has had my back on more than one occasion, and he’s never had much love for Sal.

“Fine,” I mutter. “Esme.”

“Esme have a last name?”

I cough, then mutter under my breath, “I don’t know. Yet.”

Malcolm laughs.  “Wow, this just gets better and better.”  I glare at him, and he takes the hint to veer in another direction.  “So, where're things with Salvatore?  I get that you clearly had other things on your mind last night, but you cancel on him again, that might fuck things up.”

“We’ve come to a semi-agreement. I talked to him last night when I couldn’t make the meeting at his place, and we agreed to meet at Paesano’s tomorrow.” I shrug. “Not much more to do but argue about who has the biggest dick, find a compromise we can both live with and seal the deal.  This shit he’s getting into pisses me off, but for now, I’m just trying to ignore it.  We could both destroy each other; the trick is to be the first to launch the attack.  I don’t think it’s going to come to that...at least I fucking hope not.  I just want to move on.”

Malcolm nods. “We’ll get there. You still have people that are loyal to you.”

I think about that for a long moment before responding, “Yeah, but I’m trying to find my exit plan.”  He stares at me, crossing his arms.  “I need to go straight, man.  I’ve thought about it a long time, but now it’s what I need.”

He shakes his head.  “You know that’s going to make people nervous.  Especially Sal.”

“Fuck everybody. Especially fuck Sal. It will be okay.  If you need to keep your distance, I’ll understand.”

“I’m not keeping any fucking distance,” he barks.  “Loyalty is exactly this.  You want to clean up a bit, I’ll help you.  Can’t say I’m looking to do the same, but I’ll try not to muddy your waters, and I’ll go in on deals as best I can to support you.  But...”  He sniffs and finishes.  “What’s really going on?  Yesterday you were talking about dropping by your old office, getting your books so you could set up a delivery of AK’s.  Today you want to go white picket fence and a day job?”

He looks confused, and I don’t blame him. He’s right.

“Sometimes, something hits you, and you see things differently.  Like someone turned the light on in a room you forgot you had and you realize that’s where you want to be.  I guess my light got turned on.”

That’s not the only thing that got turned on.

Fuck, I’m losing my mind.  Esme doesn’t even know me, and I’m planning our future together.  I’m planning a fuck ton of other filthy things, as well, and I plan to get started on that later today.

But why the fuck hasn’t she texted me yet?  Her friend Karen seems nice enough, but my guess is that she wouldn’t call me if something had happened.  I throw my head back and growl, looking at the ceiling.

“You gonna make it?” Malcolm asks, stepping over to the console on the wall in my office and grabbing his leather jacket.

As he puts it on, I catch a glimpse of the special inside pocket he has in all his jackets, the one holding his nine-millimeter, and it reminds me of the dangerous life we still lead.

“Yeah.”  I shove my desk chair back so hard it hits the wall, then stand, shoving my phone into my inside suit jacket pocket and locking my computer.  “I gotta go.”

“Didn’t you say the Lucci brothers are coming in an hour to make a payment on the next shipment? You going to blow them off, too?”

“Fuck,” I grunt. “Just deal with them for me, will you?  I need you on this, man. I’ll message them, tell them you’re taking point on this for now, I have an emergency or something.”

He shrugs but takes his jacket back off.  “Okay.  Like I said, I’m loyal.”

Before I can make it out of the office, there’s a quick knock at the door, then it opens.

“Hi there, boys.”  Maria sashays in with a devious smile, wearing her scrubs from work and looking so much like my mom that a flash of melancholy tightens my chest.

But, as much as I love my sister, she can be a pain in my ass.

“I’m on my way out,” I grumble and hear Malcolm snort.

“You can’t spend a few minutes with your sister?  Geez.”  She shakes her head then shoots a smile at Malcolm and takes a seat in the chair next to him.

“You should call first if you want some time.  You know I’m busy.”

“Yeah, yeah. You love to be busy. I was on my way home from my shift, wanted to see how the new digs were coming along.”

“Coming along fine,” I snap, then try to get a grip because she means well.  “What do you think?”

Maria shrugs, looking around my sleek office.  “Pretty good. Mom would like it,” she adds, and my heart twitches knowing mom would be proud of how I’m moving in my own direction.

I want to stay and chat, but my obsession with Esme is burning through me, and per usual, Maria narrows her eyes and reads me.

“What’s going on?”  She studies me and looks at Malcolm, who raises his hands in a shrug of his own, then back to me. “Did you meet someone?”

“What the hell?”  I shake my head as Malcolm chokes back a laugh.

She looks at Malcolm again. “He did, didn’t he?”

“I’m not saying anything.”  Malcolm crosses his arms and gives me a sympathetic sneer.

“Who is she?  When can I meet her—”

“I have to go,” I interrupt her rapid-fire line of questioning before she corners me for the next hour.

“Hey, I told you on the phone yesterday I’d bother you tomorrow, which is today, so you should have been expecting—"

I stomp out of the office listening to her voice fading into the background.

Avoiding her questions is one thing, but also missing a meeting is no small deal; the Luccis might feel disrespected if I’m not there.  But at this moment the only thing that matters to me is Esme and if she’s okay.

Getting into my Mercedes, my text tone goes off.  I pull my phone out and start to read as I climb into the seat. Immediately my chest is tight, and my cock is growing harder, but relief washes over me.

Esme:  Hi. It’s Esme. I’m doing fine. Got up then fell asleep again. Head isn’t hurting. Thanks for your help.

I close the driver’s door and then reply.

Me:  Good girl. I’m on my way to your place now. I was worried when I didn’t hear from you.

Esme:  No need to come back. I’m okay.

I shake my head. There is nothing more important to me right now than her.

Me:  Too late, I’m headed your way. Is your friend still there?

Esme:  Yes, she’s sleeping. She worked all night, so this is her sleep time.

I take a deep breath.  I’m not angry, but I don’t want her sitting there while someone sleeps.  She still needs to be watched.

Me:  I’ll see you in fifteen minutes. Your friend should go home and sleep once I arrive, I’ll take over.

Esme:  Hmmm okay but really it’s not necessary.

Me:  It is. I’m driving now. See you soon.

Soon, I’m outside her apartment door. I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself and tame my hard-on but failing completely.  I knock, and a moment later I hear three locks clicking back.  My teeth grind at the thought that she lives somewhere she doesn’t feel safe.  That’s going to change.

When she opens the door, I’m immediately in awe of her innocent, sexy beauty.  Her hair is loose around her fresh face, and her red lips turn upward, her blue eyes sparkling.

“Yes?”  She opens the door just enough to poke her face out.  “I already bought my Girl Scout cookies this year.”  Her tone is playful—I see the little girl inside her more than yesterday, and it makes my heart leap.

“I like to hear you say yes.  I want you to say yes to a lot more.”

Her eyes widen.  “Is that so?”

“Yes.”  I smile as she pulls the door back, letting me inside.  I look over and see her friend sitting up on the couch, looking half asleep.

“You remember Karen,” she says, and we nod at each other.

“You can go.”  I look at her friend.  “I’ll stay with her now.”

As grateful as I was that she came to look after Esme, I just want her to leave so the two of us can be alone.  The last few hours away from her only solidified for me that there is something big going on here and I need to push things forward.

“Uhhh...”  Her friend looks from me to Esme.  “You okay?”

“Yes,” Esme replies, her eyes dancing up and down on me, then back to her friend.  “You need to sleep.  Thanks for coming over.”

The girls finish up some chitchat, giving me sidelong glances as they do, and I wander over to the window, noticing she has no curtains and there is an apartment building across the way.  Literally anyone could look over and see her.

Irrational anger heats inside me at the thought that someone has the ability to watch her.  See her walking around.  I don’t want anyone else looking at her.

She and her friend say their goodbyes, then she comes over and sits cross-legged on the sofa.

I step to where she is, reaching down and pushing her hair back to reveal the bump on her head.

“It’s not hurting?”

“No.”  She looks up at me, and all I can think of is getting her on her knees, looking down into those eyes with my cock in her mouth.  “I feel good.”

“Good. Did you take the Tylenol?”

“No.  It wasn’t hurting.”

“That’s a relief.”

We’re alone, and it’s a struggle to stay in control.  My cock is so hard it’s aching as she fidgets on the couch, her blonde hair shining in the sun streaming through the window, and her nipples are poking through the fabric of the Star Trek shirt, only now she’s also wearing a loose pair of blue jean shorts.

She looks like an innocent lamb again, sitting there with me towering over her, but she doesn’t look scared. She looks hopeful.

“Can I get you anything?” she finally asks.

“Yes.”  I swallow hard and choose my words carefully.  “You will get me many things.  Right now, I want you to tell me what happened last night. Why you were out in the street, running.”

“I told you.  I met someone for a drink, and it just didn’t go that great.”  She smiles and pushes a lock of hair behind her ear, but I know she’s lying.

And there’s a rage building inside of me at that thought because I suspect someone hurt her. Or tried to hurt her.

“Bambina, I want you to listen to me.”  I reach down and take her hands, crouching to bring our faces level.  “I believe that for some reason, maybe divine intervention, you were thrown into my life last night.  I feel it.  But for me to be the best I can be for you, you need to tell me the truth. Always.  Can you do that for me?”

She chews on her bottom lip as I feel the softness of her tiny hands in mine.  I want to discover every inch of her stunning curves, every crease and mark and the stories behind them all.

She opens her mouth like she’s going to answer, but instead she blows out a warm breath, and its sweet scent hits my nose, making me think of pressing my face between her legs and breathing her in.

When she finally speaks, her voice is tentative. “I mean, sure.  Yes, but we barely know each other.  You’re not responsible for my problems.”  Her tone has turned a bit harsh, but I see through the tough act.

“This may sound crazy to you, but you will come to understand that you are my responsibility.  And for me to take care of you, I always need to know what you are thinking.  You need to be truthful with me, so I can help you and make sure you are safe.”

“Okay.”  Her eyes light up, but there’s still doubt there. “I went for a job interview for a hostess position at a restaurant. The guy that was there wanted more than just an interview. When he started to unzip...”  She shrugs and smiles uncomfortably, playing with the ends of her hair, and rage engulfs me as I realize where she’s going with this.

I’ve killed before.  It’s not something I’m proud of, but nor is it something I’m ashamed of.  At that moment it was what needed to be done.  But right now, knowing someone thought she was their toy to intimidate?

The nine circles of hell would be a pleasure compared to what I want to do to whoever did this to her.

“I feel fine about it, though.  I mean, I got out.  Wasn’t like he was forcing me, was just sort of like...this is what needs to happen if you want the job.  I just got scared.  I could have just left, I’m sure. Truth is...”  She gives me a shrug.  “I don’t really want to talk about it.  I feel stupid for acting like a crazy person.”

“There’s nothing to feel stupid about. I’m glad you ran.  I’m not glad you got hurt, but I am glad you ran because you ran right into me.”

She looks so young sitting like that, leaning back against the couch, her face fresh and her eyes wide.  There’s something growing inside of me that feels new.  Something paternal, like she’s somehow always belonged to me, and I want everything good and wonderful in the world for her.

I want details but decide to wait.  She said it was a restaurant. I know all the bars and restaurants around there.  In fact, most of them are on our payroll for some level of protection, and I can tell you as soon as I find out who did this, they are going to get the beatdown of their life.

Everything in time. Right now I want her comfortable with me, and pushing her and showing her the rage that is bubbling inside me doesn’t feel like the right move.

“Me, too,” she whispers and licks her plump, pink lips, making my cock jerk.

“You know, I want to know everything about you.”  I release one of her hands from mine and place it on her cheek for a split second, then stroke her hair, feeling the silky strands under my fingers before I trace them down her neck to hold her softly there.  “I want to know everything.”

I feel her swallow under my palm, and her pulse races under my fingertips.

“It’s kinda hard to tell someone everything...but I’ll give you a synopsis,” she starts. “I just turned twenty. I just finished my first year at the University of Michigan. I’m taking a few online summer classes because I want to graduate early, then go on to law school. I worked as a waitress in a diner all year in addition to taking a full load of classes. I like to decorate, too.  I eat too much junk, especially the pink Hostess Sno Balls and Kit Kats. I eat waffles every morning for breakfast, it’s the only thing I can cook. I have a cat named Oscar and a dog named Lemon that both live with my parents. I grew up in Greenbriar, that’s like two hours north, small little town—there were seventy-eight in my graduating class, if that tells you anything. Umm...I don’t know what else to tell you.”  Her cheeks burn pink, and I wonder if she’s wet. “Oh, I don’t drive.  I’m scared to death to drive, and I don’t know why.  Okay, I’m babbling now.”

“What were your grades last year?” I ask, locking my eyes to hers.

Her lips turn upward.  “My GPA is 3.95. I have a full-ride scholarship. Thank goodness.”

“That makes me very proud. What made you want to be an attorney? Money?”  I want to support her, be there for her.  I also want her to know she will never have to do anything just for money again.

She shakes her head.  “No, I don’t think so. I want to be something, you know?  Something important, special.”  She smiles.  “At first, I wanted to be a prosecutor, but now maybe injury law. I don’t know, I guess I just know I want to be successful. Sounds dull to you, I’m sure...”

“Not at all. You know what you want.  That’s very attractive.”

“Well, I think I do.”  There’s a moment of hesitation. “I’ve always been creative, as well.  When I was little I used to design whole houses for my dolls.  My parents bought me a few at garage sales and thrift stores, and I couldn’t ever complete all of them because the pieces are expensive, but I still loved doing the designing, even when I was little like that.  Only thing is, how do you combine creativity with the law?”

I nod, slipping my hand slightly behind her neck.  “I get it, and maybe there’s a way you can have both in your life.  You are a very good girl.  I’m proud of you.”  I pause, clearing my throat.  “You will always keep your grades up. Do you understand?”

There’s a flicker of confusion in her eyes as I stand, and she looks up at me.  “Sure.”

“Good girl.  There are other things you will do, things I will require.  But in time we will talk about that. For now, I want you to get dressed. We are going out.”

“Where?”

“I want to show you something.  I want your opinion on some things.”  I intended to ask her for help with the house redesign before, but now, knowing it’s something that feeds her, I’m anxious to get going and have her involved in my life.

She squints up at me, and I see a young woman, but I also see a little girl, and I realize I will never be able to sleep again without her by my side.  I need to know where she is, if she is safe.  As well, I need to touch her, taste her, fuck her, own her...there’s a new man born in me, and it will be her responsibility to take care of him.

I’ve packed a lot of life into my own forty-one years. Built my own sort of empire, one with a foundation of danger and less-than-legal activities.  One that could place her in harm’s way, which is why I now need to make a new life.  One that she deserves.

I breathe in her delicious scent, making my mouth water, and long to taste every part of her.  In my life, if there was something I've wanted, I've stopped at nothing to make it happen.  And I’ve never wanted anything like I want her.

She’s not wearing a bra under the T-shirt, and I think of tearing it open and sucking hard on the peaks of the nipples I see pressing into the fabric.

Instead, I trace her jawline with my thumb, my need to keep my hand on her throat stronger than even I understand.  Her skin is flawless.  Her face a masterpiece.  I’m memorizing every line and contour so I can carry her with me always, even in my dreams.

“I need to shower,” she says, a smile playing at the corner of her lips.

“Take too long, and I may come in after you.”

I give her ass a quick swat as she walks to her bedroom, and she spins her head around to look back, biting her bottom lip, but doesn’t say anything else. And from the way she twitches her ass and skips the rest of the way to the bedroom, I’d say my swat hit the spot.

When her bedroom door closes, I can’t fight my need any longer.  I lean against the doorjamb just as I did last night after I touched her in bed.  I release my cock and start to stroke, imagining her naked behind that door, water running over each amazing curve.

5

Esme

“DANG,” I WHISPER, LOOKING around the tiny bathroom filled with steam.

I took the fastest shower known to man in probably three minutes because I’m so anxious knowing he’s standing in the other room waiting for me. I tiptoe across the rug and scan my bedroom dripping wet, fairly sure I’m not going to find what I’m looking for.

There’s no towel.

I did all my laundry at my parents’ house the other day when I visited, but it’s all still in the laundry bag sitting just inside the front door.

The tingling rush of heat between my legs builds as I pull my shirt over my head and it sticks to my wet body. My is hair sopping wet, and I decide to forgo panties for the moment and just run out into the living room and grab a towel, my belly already tight knowing it’s more than a little provocative, but the thrill it’s giving me urges me forward.

Ever since Vito picked me up off the street yesterday, I’ve not been able to curb the dirty thoughts and these tense feelings down low in my belly.  He’s not slick, not like you’d see on the cover of GQ, more like you’d see on the cover of Hot Mobsters Who Don’t Give a F*ck.

His confidence only adds to his sexiness and the fluttery way he makes me feel.  I’m getting the feeling there is more here than him just wanting to be sure I don’t sue him, and the way he’s talking like I’m his already should scare me, but it doesn’t.

It excites me.

I’ve never been a girl to think with her pussy before, but Vito is giving me new lessons, and I have to say I can’t wait to be schooled by him.

I’m feeling lightheaded as I grab the doorknob and pull, nearly falling back on my ass when I’m met with the wall of man meat blocking the doorway.

“Fuck.”  Vito’s voice is deeper than usual, his eyes laced with lust, and I fixate on the massive hand clutched around an even more massive cock, hard and swollen and red with need.

“I’m sorry.”  I force my eyes up, flustered, and start to swing the door closed again, but his other hand slaps the wood and pushes it back open.

“I’m not sorry.  You need to know what you do to me, little girl.  Look.”  His free hand comes to rest on the top of my head, forcing my gaze downward to his thick cock, hand wrapped around the base.

There are slick droplets coming from the slit in the tip, and my mouth starts to water.  His suit jacket is pulled open, that incredible hard-on jutting out from his black suit pants, and I bring a quivering hand to cover my mouth, unsure what to say but not wanting him to see it hanging open.

Between my legs, the tension ignites into a wet gush, and I feel like I’m going to burst into flames.

My eyes are locked onto his hand as it moves up and down the thick shaft.  A purple vein as thick as my pinky finger snakes up toward the top, and I swear I can see his pulse beating there.

“Do you like watching?”

His hand moves faster, thick fingers encircling the hard length, and I’m mesmerized.

“Yes.”  My answer is barely audible, but there’s only truth in it.  “I like watching.”  My cheeks burn, and I’m astonished how uninhibited I feel considering I’ve never really seen a man’s cock before.

“Good girl.  That pleases me.”

His words leave me breathless. He’s unlike any man I’ve ever encountered.  It's as though he lives in a world of his own.  Making his own rules. And power seeps from him, swirling in a masculine scent that has my head swimming.  You would think I would run from him, slam the door in his face and tell him to get out...

Instead, I can’t take my eyes off the sight of him masturbating right in front of me.  I’m dizzy and more turned on than I’ve ever been.

“Watch,” he rumbles, and I swear I can hear his heartbeat.

His hand pumps up and down as the weight of his other on top of my head makes me feel like I'm completely under his control.  The entire situation is so erotic, so dirty. I should be horrified, but I’m not.  My pussy aches as I watch, listening to his low breathing coming from above, the sound of his hand moving on the skin around his erection.

He stops, and I swallow, hoping he’s not done because I want to see him cum.  I can’t believe this is me, but I also can’t deny the truth of what I’m thinking.

He releases his cock, raising his hand palm up just under my chin.  “Spit,” he growls. I’m frozen for a second, but he repeats the command, “Spit.” The baritone of his voice vibrates through me.

He wiggles his fingers, and to my surprise I comply, spitting into his palm.  The saliva slowly drips from my bottom lip until it falls in a glistening drop.

“Again,” he orders, and I do as he says, a rumble emanating from his chest as he rubs my saliva onto his erection and starts stroking again.

Desire surges hot through my veins, and the ache between my legs is nearly unbearable.  I squeeze my thighs together as his stroking turns feverish, and I’m rapt, in awe at the sight, even as drops of shower water drip from my bangs into my eyes.

“You are a dirty girl for me, aren’t you, Bambina?  Say it, say I’m a dirty girl for you...”  He pauses at the end, and I feel like he wants to say something else, but his words drive me closer to my own edge.

The weight of his hand lifts from my head, slipping down through my damp hair then halting beneath my chin, moving my eyes to look up into his intense face, the muscle on his jaw line flexing and releasing.

Flashes of heat turn me into a thoughtless mess, and there’s a darkness in his eyes I’ve not seen before.

“Say it,” he grunts, and my heart nearly pounds from my chest.  A gush of slick arousal coats my thighs as I squeeze and pulse the muscles down low.

“I’m—” I stammer, trying to come to terms with what is really happening here.  “I’m a dirty girl for you.”

As the words slip from my lips, something else about him hits me.  A word.

A title.

Something inside me wants to say one more word.

I don’t know where it’s coming from, but the pull is so strong, it’s like I’m being swept down a rushing river, and I am under the control of another force.

“Good girl.”  His voice hits me like a blow to the chest.

I see the movement of his arm from the corner of my eye, and I want to drop down to my knees so I can both look into his eyes and watch him jerk off, waiting for something I’ve never thought about before...

I want his cum.

I want it on me.

I want to taste it.

I want it inside me.

Before I can stop myself, I look directly into his eyes, and the words come from somewhere inside my soul.  “I want to be a dirty girl for you...”  The last one catches on my lips as I force it forward.  “...Daddy.”

The movement of his hand halts, and his eyes catch fire as the fingers on my chin slip lower to grip around my throat.

“Say that again,” he rumbles, and my belly flips as I rise onto my tiptoes.

His hand tightens, and I struggle to take a breath, filling my lungs before I repeat the words.

“I want to be a dirty girl for you, Daddy.”

“Fuck.”  His eyes close for a moment, then his hand leaves my throat, and his grip is on my wrist, pulling me into the bedroom.  When we get to the edge of the bed, he orders, “Sit.”

I comply, looking directly into the dripping head of a cock nearly as long as my forearm.

Trembling, I watch in awe as he releases his erection, strips his jacket, tie and shirt, and tosses them on the end of the bed.

My own need throbs inside me as the pulsing between my legs makes it nearly impossible to form any rational thought.

“Take off your shirt,” he commands, standing in front of me shirtless, his cock standing up, spreading his zipper wide.

My fingers shake as I grab the bottom of my T-shirt and drag it over my head, still unsure any of this is real.

I could be dreaming.  I did bump my head.  Maybe it’s like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz; I’ll wake up, and my world will be black and white again.

He rips the shirt from my hands before I can let it go and tosses it onto the floor with a grunt like a caveman.  I’m sitting naked on my bed while Vito examines me, his eyes tracing up and down, and when I look, I notice the fingers on his right hand are twitching.

The look in his eyes is primal, and it makes me shiver under his gaze.

Then he brings a hand down, two stiff fingers pushing on my chest until I’m prone.  I lick my lips, my hands wrapping around my waist, unsure where else to put them until Vito fixes that.

“Grab your knees.  Pull them up and apart.  Show me everything.  I want all of you.”

My skin tingles as I follow his orders, splaying myself wide for this man I’ve only known a matter of hours.  I look at his hard cock jutting upward, cum leaking from the tip, and my mouth waters.

“That’s beautiful, my little Bambina.  Has any other man ever touched you?”  His voice is hard like he’s having trouble getting the words out.  “Tell me the truth.  It will kill me if you say yes, but I’d still rather know the truth.”

I shake my head, and he releases an uneven breath.

“Thank God,” he grits out, and my head swims.  I don’t know what I’m doing, but somewhere deep down it feels right.

Dirty.

But right.

Need pulses through me as his eyes lock onto my open legs then glide upward to rest on my tits for a long moment, making me hold my breath.

When he finally looks me in the eye, I think I might pass out.

“I’m going to touch you now, little girl.  Daddy needs to know how wet you are for him.”  The filthy words make the throbbing unbearable, and I feel like his eyes are penetrating my soul.  “You want that, don’t you? You want to know what it feels like to have my fingers on your little girl parts.”

He brings a finger to my lips, pressing forward, and I suck it inside.  I watch his eyes flick shut at the sensation, and when they open again, they’re wild.

When he withdraws his finger, my lips stay open, and I nod, answering his question.

He shakes his head.  “That’s not good enough. When I ask you a question, I want to hear your answer, understand?  A nod is not enough.  Tell me what you want.”

I gather my senses as best I can as he lowers his hand between my legs.  The need is so strong, a desire I’ve never felt before.  I need him to touch me.  I want him to own me.

“I want you to touch me please, Daddy.”  I add on the last word and watch his chest fill with a deep breath as his jaw muscle tightens.

I release a moan, mixing with his own as he drags the backs of his fingers through my folds while his eyes narrow and stay locked on my face.

“So beautiful, Bambina.  So fucking wet.”  He brings his fingers to my lips, slick with my juices. “Open.”

Once again, his fingers are in my mouth, and I taste myself on them.  He withdraws, then lowers them again, dipping them just inside me, moving them up and down through my tingling pussy until I think I’m going to come undone.

“God, that feels so good.”  I press my head back into the bed and pull my knees upward, closing my eyes and letting the feelings wash over me.

When I open them again, he pulls his hand away, this time bringing his slick fingers to his own lips.  I see the glistening strands of my juices webbing between them, and then he plunges them into his mouth with a low, rumbling moan.

“You realize this is mine.” He looks down at my open legs. “Whatever this is between us, I’ve never felt anything like it. I’ve never tasted anything like you.  I’m not letting you go. Your fate is sealed, I’m afraid.”

A crooked grin spreads over his lips as his fingers come back down and press just inside my opening. I gasp as his thumb begins to make circles over my sensitive nub, pushing me closer to the edge.

My mind spins at his words as his fingers push inward until I see him let out a sigh, a low groan rumbling from his chest.

“This little cherry is mine, too. I take care of my things, Bambina.  I’m a powerful man. I’m used to getting what I want.  And I don’t remember ever wanting anything as much as I want you.”

I feel like I’m in a dream.  He’s clearly in a different league than my family and me, but it’s not his wealth or power that interests me.  It’s his power over me.  It’s this pull I feel in my chest toward him.  Like he’s a part of me I never knew I had.

His thumb moves faster over my clit until I feel the tension gather.  I open my legs as far as they will go, close my eyes again and explode, whimpering and twisting on the bedding as he strokes me until my orgasm plays out, leaving me panting.

“Good girl.  Know how much it pleases me when you cum.”

I nod, unsure what else to do or say, and his eyes look like they are on fire.  His gaze is so intense it could be that he’s in heaven or thinking he’s ready to put someone in hell.  He oozes calm dominance, and it has me transfixed.

“I don’t even know your last name,” I manage through panting breaths, gripped suddenly by the thought that I’m letting this near-stranger do things to me I’ve never done before.  “And you don’t know mine.”

“That is true, my Bambina. I plan to tell you many things, and you will tell me.  But last names don’t change anything, do they?  You know what I know, there is something here, between us.”

The way the light from the living room cuts across his hard, handsome face is like a message from God, telling me he’s right. His near-black hair is decorated at the temples with a bit of silver, even though he doesn’t look old enough to be gray, but it only makes him even sexier to me.  His chest is hard, arms and upper body thick, and I see just the right amount of dark body hair running down his torso forming an arrow pointing down toward his incredible cock.

“Know I will always take care of you.  That means many things, but be sure it also means your pleasure belongs to me.  I will give it, I will take it, I will require many things from you, but I will always put you first.  Always.”

A shiver shakes me as he leans in, his fingers leaving my pussy and sliding to my legs as he lowers his face.

Tension grips between my legs as he kisses his way down my inner thigh until I feel like I’m going to fly apart into a million pieces.

As soon as his mouth connects, I’m tumbling into another orgasm so intense everything goes black.  There is no sound except the buzzing inside my head as heated bliss engulfs me and leaves me breathless and quivering.

I release my grip on my legs, my arms flailing out at my sides then down to touch his head, the source of this wicked pleasure.

Distantly, I’m aware that I’m screaming, but I can’t hear myself.  It’s as though my brain has been rewired somehow, and it’s his mouth creating this euphoric, electric chaos inside of me.

My pussy contracts and releases, riding out the waves of bliss as I move my hands out and hold onto the bedding, amazed at how I came so easily with him.  Even when I try to play with myself, it takes a long time if it happens at all.

All I know right now is I want more.  I’m already addicted to whatever this is, as dirty as it is.

As dirty as I am.

And I don’t care.

He comes up from between my legs, his face hovering over mine, and the scent of my arousal and the slick wetness of my pussy cover his lips and chin.

“You are such a good girl, do you know that?”

I nod, unsure what else to do but knowing that hearing him call me that feels so very right.

“Good, because from now on, you are my good girl, and I plan on devouring this pussy whenever I like.”  He reaches up and grabs a handful of my hair, pulling it to the side and planting his teeth in a soft bite at the base of my neck, making me moan and my pussy long for more of whatever this is.

His lips and teeth trace down my body, making me writhe and yelp when he alternates soft kisses and licks with sharp nips, but the pain only seems to ignite the fire inside of me.

I stare at the ceiling, my eyes blurry as his mouth is again between my legs, and his tongue drags through my folds until his lips and teeth are on my clit.

My hips buck upward and I moan as he eats me out.

My body feels boneless as he devours me, the lust like a drug that makes me feel as though I’m not here anymore, but instead living in another parallel dimension, a dimension where my only thoughts are of the sensations he’s creating with his hot tongue.

The feel of his tongue lapping at my opening, of his nose moving and pressing on my clit, is overwhelming.  His hands are wrapped around my upper thighs, and he’s holding me hard against his mouth as I try to twist and jerk against him.  The noises I’m making aren’t human, and I’m sure my neighbors must be wondering what sort of monster has taken over in place of the mousy girl that occupies unit three.

Tension is gathering again as I listen to the wet sounds of him drinking in every drop of my juices.  The swirling of his tongue moves faster until the pressure is so strong I take one last look down to see his eyes on me, and that’s all I can take.

My vision disappears again, and when the orgasm hits me, my voice fails.  It’s harder and stronger than the ones before, and I feel it down into my bones.  I’m bucking and jerking, my hands flying outward in a desperate effort to clasp onto something, and I’m frightened I’m losing control of everything.

When Vito’s tongue flicks at my clit again, I wince and push his head away.

“No,” I whisper.

“Oh, no.”  I hear his voice echoing in my mind and look down through blurred vision to see him looking at me with those dark eyes, shaking his head. “I say when we are done, little Bambina.”

“But,” I whimper, “it hurts.”

“Does it?” he asks, then brings the pad of his thumb to my engorged clit, making me draw a sharp breath.  “Maybe sometimes that’s what I want.”

6

Vito

UNDER MY HANDS, I FEEL her muscles quivering.  Her body is tense, but I need one more.

“Give me what I want,” I growl, my thumb pressing and flicking over her clit as her face twists in a mixture of pleasure and pain. Her pussy is bare except for a small patch of blond curls, and I love everything about her.

Her hands flap and try to push me away, but I answer her actions with my teeth on her inner thigh.

She winces in response but cums at the same time, and the orgasm has her eyes rolling back and her body slack and spent.  She whimpers out "Daddy," and I bring my head lower to kiss her softly between her legs.  I lick her in long, slow strokes until her muscles soften and her breathing steadies.

It’s not easy, but I tear my mouth away and stand, sitting down next to her on the bed and pulling her over into me as I lean against the pillows.

“All done, babygirl.  You’ve pleased Daddy.  Such a dirty girl, making Daddy want to eat this pussy and make you cum.  This pussy is mine now, you understand?  It doesn’t belong to you any longer.  It’s given itself to me.  Just like you will.”

Her glazed eyes open, looking up at me, lips plump and face pink, and the devotion I see there makes my heart race.

She reaches down between us and presses a hand against the length of my cock as it sticks out from my zipper.

I kiss the side of her head.  “Not now, princess.  In time, I will give you all of me, like you will give me all of you. But I’m a patient man.  Today I will show you more about me.  I want to show you some things in my life.”

I listen to her slow, even breathing as I graze my hand up and down her back.

As I breathe in her sweet scent, her hand comes up and presses onto my jaw.  “I have so many questions.”

“And I will answer them all in time.  Right now, we need to get ready to go.  I will pick out your clothes.”

I shift and lift her easily onto the bed beside me, her legs tucked beneath her as I stand and walk to the opening in the wall where her clothes hang.  On my way, I manage to get my cock back inside my trousers, practically breaking it in half in the process.

I pull the hangers one at a time, examining the clothes, and anger is building as I do.  Esme deserves so much more.  Her clothes are few, worn and tired.  I make a mental note to be sure to remedy this for her as soon as possible.

She’s a princess and deserves to have all the things a princess would have.

I pick out a light-yellow dress and look to the floor of the closet to see only two pair of shoes.  I grab the faded blue sandals and take the items over to the bed, where she’s watching me with confusion in her eyes.

She opens her mouth to say something, then swallows and takes my extended hand.  I lift her to her feet, leaning down to kiss her ear lobe and whisper, “You are my beautiful babygirl.  I will take care of you in ways you couldn’t imagine.  Now, arms up.”

I unzip the dress and remove it from the hanger, draping it gently over her head and onto her soft body.

“What about panties?  Or a bra?”

I shake my head.  “Not today, princess.  From now on, I decide.  And today, you don’t need either. I want to know that when I want to touch you again, this pussy is right here, ripe and waiting for me.”

From there, I kneel down, kissing the top of each of her feet before slipping them into the sandals and working the tiny buckles into place.

When I stand, her eyes are wide and searching my face.  I wrap my arms around her waist.

“Where is your hairbrush, Bambina?”

She nips at her bottom lip.  “On the counter in the bathroom.”  She points, and I drop my embrace and take her tiny hand in mine, pulling her behind me.

I can reach through the bathroom and get the brush without letting her go.  There’s barely enough room for the tub, sink, and commode, but it’s sparkling clean and well organized.

“Come, sit on my lap.”

I guide us back through the bedroom and out to the sofa and sit down, and she sits on my legs, her back to me as I bring the brush up and begin to draw it through the still-damp silk of her blonde hair.

She sighs and leans her head back.  “That feels so good,” she says softly, her hands coming down to hold onto the outsides of my thighs.

“You deserve to feel good.  Do you know that?” She stills, and I keep brushing, giving her a moment, but she remains silent.  “I need you to answer when I ask you a question.”  My voice deepens.

Her voice is a whisper.  “I don’t know what I deserve sometimes.”

My heart sinks, wondering what her life has been like that she doesn’t understand her value.

“I want you to know you deserve so much more. And I’m going to give it to you.  Would you like that, babygirl?  Daddy wants to give you everything.”

She nods.

“The proper answer is, Yes, Daddy.  I want you to answer me like a good girl.”

After a moment of hesitation, her voice is soft.  “Yes, Daddy.”

“That’s my girl.”  I set the brush down on the sofa and lift her, turn her around to face me.  “My sweet, pretty girl.  Let’s go.  I have so much I want to show you.”

As I stand, I extend my hand, and she slips her tiny fingers between mine.  On our way to the door, I pick up her purse.  “Your keys are inside?”

She nods. “Yes.”  I give her a stern look, and she tries again.  “Yes, Daddy.”

I slip the bag over my shoulder, listening to her giggle.

“Not sure it goes with your outfit.”  She smiles at me, and I look down at the purse on my shoulder, then back at her.

“If it’s part of you, then it’s part of me.”  I shift my shoulders back and forth.  “Besides, I think it looks good.”

We step out into the hallway, locking her door behind, and make our way downstairs and out to my Mercedes, where I open the door then buckle her in.

When she’s secure, and I’ve climbed in beside her, I lean in, kiss her just below her ear and give her the instructions.  “While I drive, your skirt is up, and I want your fingers playing in your pussy.  Don’t stop until I tell you to stop, do you understand?”

She blinks and hesitates, then answers, “Yes, Daddy.  I understand.”

“Good girl.”

She does as I ask the entire drive to my house, and my cock is raging hard and throbbing when we reach my driveway and I punch in the code for the gate to open.

As it swings, I reach over and pull her hand from between her legs, the shimmering juices there glistening in the sun.  I bring her fingers to my mouth, feeding the unrelenting hunger I have for her taste.

I moan while driving the car forward, licking each finger clean, then holding her hand as I park in front and turn off the ignition.

When I look over, she is staring out the window, her red lips open.  There are vans and work trucks along the other driveway, and that’s only one reason she is here.

“Do you like it?” I ask, and she slowly turns her head so her eyes meet mine.

“Like it?”  She laughs. “Is it real?  Pinch me. I think I’m dreaming.  Who are you?”

“I’m just a man.  But I’m a man who now knows what he wants.  And I want you.”

I kiss the back of her hand then exit the vehicle, coming around to help her out and guide her by the waist up the steps and into the house.  As soon as we step inside, the sounds of the work going on are all around, and the foreman on the job steps out into the hall to greet us.

“Glad you are here; we need to make some decisions.”  He extends his hand, which I take and give him a firm shake.  When his eyes drift to Esme and I see them flick up and down her body, heat cascades through me and I want to slam him into the wall.

“This is Esme, and she’s here to help me make those decisions.”

He smiles at her, and my rage increases.  “Hi there.”  He throws the words at her casually, as though he’s entitled to flirt with her.  “Didn’t know you had a daughter.”  He licks his lips and my hands ball into fists at my sides.

“Esme.”  I turn to her, and she looks at me with wide eyes.  “Stay right here. I’ll be right back. I need to have a moment,” I growl at the foreman and nod toward the closed door of my office, then walk over and punch in the keycode, expecting him to follow.

As soon as we’re inside, I turn around and slam the door closed.

“Everything okay?”  The foreman seems amused.

But I am not.

“No, everything is not fucking okay.  You’re going to listen, and then you are going to tell every person on this job what I’m about to tell you.  I don’t want anyone’s eyes on her.  If anyone needs to speak to her, they'd better show some goddamn respect.  Or else they are going to deal with me—and they don’t want to deal with me.  Simple.  We clear?”

“Yes, sir,” he answers, his jaw muscles going tight.  “I’ll spread the word.”

“Good.  I’ll be watching.”

We exit the office, and his eyes are on the floor as he slinks down the hall.

“You’re having a lot of work done.”  Esme looks at me, and my pulse races at the thought of having her here with me.

“Yes. And I need you to help me make some decisions.  I want your opinion.  I want you to like the work.  I want you to help pick out all the new fixtures and furniture. Paint colors, pillows, everything.”

She looks at me with confusion.  “But why?”

“Because it’s what I want.  You said you like to decorate.”

She snorts. “For dollhouses and dorm rooms, not this. Vito, this is too much, what if I get it wrong?”

I shake my head and take her arm. “I trust you. I know you’ll get it right. And besides, you can’t possibly make a mistake because...”  I fall silent, afraid if I tell her she’s going to be living here, and that whatever she decides will be as much for her as it is for me, I might scare her away.

Instead, I simply smile and place a kiss on her cheek.  “They are working on the first floor now.  Then, in a couple of weeks when they are done down here, we will work on upstairs.”

7

Esme

VITO OPENS THE DOOR to his office and sets my purse inside before wrapping his arm around my waist to guide me through his house.

House...it’s a palace.

The double staircase inside the front entry is like something out of a movie.  The floors are all marble, and the ceilings are so high even my breath echoes.  As we pass through a long hall I spot a pool out back that looks big enough to host the Olympics, and if all the grounds I see out there belong to the house, then some countries would be jealous of the amount of land he owns.

As we walk by the workers, I’m aware that I’m not wearing any undergarments, but as soon as we approach, they either look back at what they are doing, or if Vito talks to them, they look directly at him.

He asks me for my opinion on different colors and styles for each room we enter, and I feel so special.  Like my opinion really matters to him.  Part of me still feels like this must be a dream.

Vito’s mouth between my legs earlier, making me scream, also feels like a dream. Then it was his teeth and the whole Daddy thing.  Ripples of pleasure tremble through me even now at the thought, and I wonder what exactly this is.

He could have a hundred women, for all I know.  Babies.  Or even a wife.  Who knows? I know nothing about him...but my cheeks still burn at the thought of what he did to me just hours ago.

“Excuse me.”  The same man who met us in the hall comes into the massive kitchen, where a group of workers are taking down what looks like perfectly good cabinets.

The man doesn’t look at me and seems nervous when he continues.  “Sorry, boss, I have a question about the contract and payment you made...I’ve got a copy of it over here, I just need to be sure I’m understanding everything you emailed over.”

I look over to see some papers spread over a long kitchen table.  Vito looks at me, and I give him a little shrug.  “That’s fine.  I want to go see the pool if that’s okay?”

“Of course.”  He leans down and kisses my cheek.  “I’ll be right out.”

I stroll through the kitchen and onto the stone patio outside the expanse of sliding glass doors, then head toward the enormous swimming pool surrounded by manicured shrubs and flowering planters.  I love the water but never learned to swim, so what I feel is a combination of fascination and fear.

I glance around to see Vito through the window with some papers in hand and the foreman pointing at things as they both talk.

When I turn back around, I yelp out a little scream of shock to find a man standing right in front of me, smiling.

Or smirking.

“And who might you be?”  He doesn’t look like a worker.  He’s wearing a suit, and there’s something about his manner that immediately sets me on edge.  “I’m Esme.”  I swallow hard and take a step back as he steps forward.

He grips his nose on a sniff, grinning.  “And what is an Esme doing here?”  He licks his lips and eyes me up and down as I take another step backward, wrapping my arms around my chest as he looks directly at my boobs.

“I don’t think that’s your business,” I snap back, drawing my brows together.

“Oh?”  He raises his eyebrows.  “That’s what’s wrong with this situation, you’re thinking.  Dangerous business, thinking, especially for little girls.”

He reaches out to touch my hair when I hear footsteps from behind.

Before I can spin around, Vito has his hand around my waist, pushing me behind him.

“How the fuck did you get in here?” Vito growls, and the man smiles.

“Just a friendly visit. Concerned when you re-scheduled our meeting.”

“Our meeting?  I wasn’t meeting with you, asshole.  Your boss knows you’re here?”

The man grins, showing yellowing teeth.  “You know, the workers are a bit careless about buzzing people through your gate. I’ve had a nice look around.”  He leans around Vito to glance at me, then back at Vito. “Could be dangerous.  Especially with some prime pussy like her wandering around unattended.”

A split second later, arms are swinging, and a patio table goes crashing into the pool.  I yelp and step back, my hands flying to cover my mouth as Vito swings and connects with the man’s face, then again and again, knocking him back so he’s barely able to stay on his feet and blood starts to pour from his lip and nose.

The violence comes out of him like a force of nature.

“Watch your fucking mouth,” Vito seethes as the man wipes the blood with the back of his arm, impossibly still smiling despite the beating he just took.

“And you'd better watch your manners.”  He glances at me again.  “Seems you have a new soft spot.  Maybe not such a good idea.”

Vito lunges forward, but the man sidesteps, spinning around closer to me as Vito’s arm snaps outward, grabbing him by the shoulder and cocking back.

The man does the same.

Next thing I know, an elbow slams into my shoulder, knocking me off balance.  I see Vito’s eyes on me, madness flickering, and I flail but can’t hold myself upright.

There’s a splash, and cool water takes my breath away.  Everything is happening so fast.  I move my arms and legs, trying to stay above the surface but failing.  I’m drifting down under the water, sinking.  My feet hit the bottom of the deep end of the pool, and I look up with wavy vision through the water, the surface so far away.

Frantically, I kick my feet and flap my arms, but panic rises as nothing happens. My lungs are burning, and I blow bubbles out, pushing off the bottom but only rising a few feet before settling back down where I started.

As I look up, a black figure plunges into the water.  Hands reach for me, grabbing my own and pulling me upward until we break the surface and I gasp for air.

“You okay?”  Vito’s voice is thick with worry as I nod and spit water, pushing wet hair out of my eyes.

He drags me up onto him, holding me like a clinging child on his hip, his hand under my ass and my arms around his shoulders as he takes the steps up out of the pool onto the patio, both of us soaked and dripping onto the stone below.

With his free hand, he reaches into his drenched suit jacket and to my shock pulls out a gun, pointing it at the bloodied, smiling man still standing on the side of the pool next to the toppled furniture.

“Get the fuck out before your brains ruin my lawn.”

The man raises his hands as blood drips down his nose, his eyes wild.  “I’ll tell the boss we had a nice chat.  I’ll also tell him you have a new distraction. Something I’m sure he’ll want to know.”  He laughs as he turns away.

“Out.”  Vito flicks the gun toward the driveway, and we follow the man as he begins to walk toward the front of the house.

Vito holds me until the man’s car exits the driveway and the gates close behind him.  His hold on me tightens as he leans his head next to mine and draws a deep breath.

“You okay, Bambina?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.  I can’t swim, is all.”  I calm as he holds me, walking us back toward the house.  “What just happened?”

“I’ll explain everything soon.  Just for now, I’ve got some business dealings that have become tense.  Know I’ll never let anyone hurt you.”

My heart is pounding; the rage and violence Vito unleashed on that man is something I never want to see again.  An inner madness leapt out of him like he was possessed, evaporating the man that’s been so gentle and caring toward me.

It reminds me how much I do not know and how I am very likely making some poor life choices getting involved with him.

Vito lowers me to the ground, strips his jacket and puts it around my shoulders, tucking me under his arm as we walk. Despite what just happened and my misgivings, with him next to me I feel safe.  I don’t know what’s going on here, how this will all turn out, but I’m just going to follow my feelings for now.

When we get to the house, several workers are wandering outside, drifting our way.

“Too late, guys,” Vito announces.  “Show’s over.”

I notice some of them glancing at me, then just as quickly looking away as Vito ushers me into the house, his heavy arm keeping me next to him.  We walk in silence up the stairs, and he leads me to a massive bedroom.  Then he closes the door behind us, and my belly starts doing backflips.

I open my mouth to speak, but Vito’s lips are on mine.  The kiss is demanding, hard, and without apology.  I know he wants me. There’s desperation in his touch, and against some of my more practical tendencies, I want to give him what he needs.

“We need to get out of these wet clothes,” he whispers against my lips, and his hands drop down and strip me of the jacket and dress, leaving me standing naked.  The cool air of the room raises goose bumps over my flesh.

There’s an enormous bed against one wall, with burgundy velvet pillows and fabric covering it.  There’s an entire living room suite in leather and more velvet in the center of the room near a limestone fireplace, and the windows overlook the pool and grounds behind.

I could fit five of my apartment into this one room, and I see shining white marble through a door and imagine the master bath is like a spa rather than the small, functional rooms I'm accustomed to.

He strips off his shirt and tie, leaving him wearing only his trousers, through which I see the shadow of his enormous erection. It makes my pussy tingle.

He backs us up until my rear end hits the soft fabric covering the bed, then he lays me down, pulling me up onto the pillows as he climbs on after me on his knees, his hands moving to spread my legs.

He leans to close his lips around one of my nipples, sucking it hard into his mouth and making me moan as my hands go to his wet hair, holding on tight.

As he sucks and licks, moving from one side to the other, my nipples harden at the touch of his hands, his fingers pinching and squeezing.  I arch upward, my moans filling the silence of the room, and close my eyes, pressing my head back into the pillows as he works lower, his hands spreading my legs as wide as they will go.

His damp hair and cool face work their way down my belly until his hot mouth covers my pussy.  As he sucks my clit, he slips a finger inside me, and I let the sensations wash over me.

“God, it feels so good.”  I rock my hips upward, pushing myself against his ravaging mouth while pulling his head forward, fingers gripping tight in his hair.

“Tastes so good,” he mutters into my sex as he eats me like a starved man.

“Please...”  I start to beg, needing more, and his mouth and fingers bring me to the edge before stopping, leaving me breathless.  “No...don’t stop...”

“Do you want to come, little girl?” he asks, his single finger still inside me as I clench my muscles around him, trying futilely to make him move.

“Yes,” I whimper, but I look down to see him shake his head.

“Not the right answer, Bambina.  What do you say when I ask you a question?”

“Ugh,” I moan.  “Yes, Daddy.”

“Better.”  His eyes are dark as my legs tremble, my muscles tight and ready to explode. “Do you want me to let you come?”

“Yes, Daddy.”  My voice is weak and desperate as the smallest of smiles curves his lips.

“Good girl.”  He holds me tight against his mouth, his teeth grating against my clit, and I let my head fall back again as bliss takes over.

It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt.  It’s like he’s making love to my soul with his mouth, and before I know it, I’m tumbling into a mind-numbing climax.  Wave after wave of my orgasm takes over, the euphoria the only thing I know.

I let myself go, and Vito’s mouth pushes me immediately into another climax until I’m not sure of my name, but I definitely know his.

Then it dawns on me again.  I still don’t know his last name...

“Thank you, Daddy,” I whisper, my entire body slack as I wonder what is going to happen from here.  “That was...”

“Yes, Bambina, it’s my job to give this to you.  Your job is to give yourself to me.”

Vito lies next to me, pulling my body against him, and I sigh.

“Daddy...”

“Yes, baby?”

“I feel like I know you but don’t know you at all.”  I yawn. My eyes are barely open.  “I don’t know why I’m so tired.”

He strokes my hair, kissing the top of my head.  “I’ll tell you everything.  But for now, I want you to sleep.  I’ll watch over you, Bambina.  Just sleep.”

8

Vito

I LEAN DOWN AND PRESS my face into her blonde hair. The sun is shining through the bedroom window across her sweet face, and my heart leaps.

When she called me Daddy that first time, something exploded inside of me.  I’d never thought of being referred to that way before, but when it slipped from Esme’s lips, what I already knew was something beyond special became a once-in-a-lifetime revelation.

She was meant for me, and she has given me something I didn’t even know I needed.

For the last two hours, she’s been sleeping, and I’ve spent the majority of that time just watching her, thoughts of what I want from her making my already rock-hard cock harder, but it’s more than just sex.

There are ways I want to care for her I never considered before.  I want to consume her.  I’ve never been a jealous man before.  No one has ever lit me up like Esme has in the last twenty-four hours.

I settle back in next to her as she stirs.  I’ve washed, dried and pressed her dress, and made note that she needs a whole new wardrobe.  I plan on making that happen for her as soon as possible.

I’ve put on a new suit, the jacket hanging on a chair next to the bed.

“Hey.”  Her sleepy voice drifts to my ears.

“Hey yourself.”  I run my fingers down her cheek.  “You feeling okay, baby?”

She nods and swallows, throwing an arm around my waist and tucking her head against me.  “Yes, I’m sorry, I just got so tired.  Who knew orgasms could do that to you?”  She looks up and smiles.

“Who knew?”

“What time is it?”

“Time to get up and dressed.  I want you to come downstairs and help me make a few more decisions about the renovations.  I want it done as soon as possible, so that you can be comfortable here.”

She looks perplexed.

“What?” I ask.

“Well, I keep asking about you.  You want me to help you decide things about your house, but I still don’t even know your name.  Like, your last name I mean.  Or, I don’t know, if you don’t want to give me that, then what’s your favorite Netflix series?  That’s important, you know.”

I chuckle.  “Yes, very important question.  I don’t watch TV.  I have one, I just don’t watch it.”

“Wow.”  She looks out the window, shifting the sheet that already only half covers her unbelievable curves, and my cock jerks in my pants.  “Okay, I can live with that.  Just know I do watch TV, so you may have to make some concessions.”

“I think I can do that.  And...my last name is Vitaglia.”

Her jaw nearly hits the floor.  “Vitaglia.  Like, the Vitaglias?”

Part of me shrinks back at that reaction.  It's the same reaction I’ve gotten all my life whenever someone finds out who I am.  My family name comes with a reputation, and I’m scared it’s going to make her run from me.

“Yes, those Vitaglias,” I murmur.

“So that’s why you didn’t want to tell me.”

“Not all the stories you’ve heard about my family are true.  Some are...but most are exaggerated.”

A smile plays on her lips, and I can’t believe she’s not going to run a mile.  “Vito Vitaglia?”  She coughs out a laugh.

“Yes. Well, no.”  I feel the smirk spread on my face.  She sits up, and I look into her eyes.  “Vito is my nickname. My first name is Abbondanzio.”

“Abbon...what?”

I laugh.  “Exactly.  Vito.”

She nods. “Vito.  And what is it you do?  I’m guessing you’re part of the family business.”  She looks around the room, then back to me.

“I...own some businesses of my own.  Do some consulting.  It’s complicated.”

“I’m not a simpleton.  I can probably grasp it.”

I take her chin in my hand.  “I know you can.  It’s just right now I want to get you dressed, let you help me make a few more decisions for the contractor, then I’m going to take you out to my favorite restaurant, Paesano’s.  On the way, we are going to stop and do some shopping.  So, let’s get after it, little girl.”

I stand and walk over to where her dress is hanging on the back of a chair.

“Wait,” she says, her voice flat.  “Just one more thing.”

“What?  Anything, baby.”  I brace myself for the next question, ready to take what’s coming if she asks if I’ve ever killed someone or had someone killed.

“You’re not married, are you?  Or have a girlfriend?  Or boyfriend?  Or both?”

She looks down at the bedding where her hands are fussing with some invisible fuzz.

I walk back over, lay the dress on the bed and take her face in my hands.

“Not only am I not married, I don’t have a girlfriend, or...”  I pause, making sure she’s looking at me.  “...a boyfriend.  I’ve never even been close to getting married.  I’m not even one for dating, haven’t dated in years.  No time.  No interest.”

“Okay.”  She bites her lip.  “It’s just, someone like you, who looks like you, has all this...”  She waves a hand toward the ceiling.  “I don’t want to compete. I’m not that experienced, but I see things.  Most guys aren’t loyal.  Especially if they don’t have to be.  I’m sure you could have anyone you wanted.”

“I don’t want anyone.  Well, I didn’t.  Now I do.  Very much.  And that person is you.”

Looking at her in my bed, naked, nothing has ever felt so right.  I don’t want her to ever leave.

And it won’t be long before I take all of her.

“I FEEL LIKE A PRINCESS.”  Her brilliant blue eyes sparkle in the lit candles on the linen tablecloth, and the joy I see there is what I want to see every day for the rest of my life.

“You are a princess.”  I lean over and press my lips to hers.  When her hand comes to my cheek, she sighs, and I know I can’t ever let her go.

“The clothes.”  She looks down at the red sequined dress, its shade perfectly matching her signature lipstick.  “The dinner.  The way everyone in the restaurant is looking at us. It feels like a fairy tale.”

When we left the house, we took the limo rather than the Merc or the Suburban.  I wanted her to feel special and spoiled.  A limo and a driver to chauffeur us around town seemed to do the trick.

We spent a few hours shopping at some boutiques, and the back of the limo, as well as the trunk, is now full of bags and boxes.  She fussed at first, said she didn’t need anything.  So I just started grabbing everything I could reach at the first shop where we stopped, giving it to the poor gal that was waiting on us and telling her to ring up everything.

Esme flushed bright red but finally conceded to picking out things she liked—things we both liked—and the joy I saw in her eyes made me believe that all things are possible again.

“They’re looking at us because they’ve never seen me with a woman before.  Let alone someone as beautiful as you are tonight.”

“I still find that so hard to believe.”

“You will learn in time to trust me.  I’ve not felt like this for anyone, ever.  Please don’t take that lightly.”

“You barely know me.”

“I’m a very perceptive man.  It’s my job to know people.  You know what else I know?”

“What?”

“You’re going to be a great mother.  When we renovate the second floor, you can choose which rooms will be for the children.”

“What children?”

“Ours.”  My cock drips cum at the thought of her carrying my seed, her body lush and growing with what I put inside her.

She laughs.  “You're already planning our family?”

“I’m planning our life, Esme.”

The waiter comes by and takes the check; I wave him off and let him know I don’t need any change, suddenly needing to get her out of here and back home.

I hold her hand as we snake through the restaurant to the waiting car.  Inside, I pull her next to me and tell Hamilton, my driver, to take us home.

“Wait, I have to work tomorrow.  I should go home.”

“I am taking you home.”

“You know, this is all a little over the top.”  She glances out the window, drawing my eye. “I want so much to think this is happening, then the other part of me is screaming warning.”

“I know one part of you that knows what’s happening...”  I run my hand up her thigh straight to her bare pussy and feel the wetness there.  “Has that ever happened to you before?”

She shakes her head with an exhale as I place a soft kiss on her lips.

“When we get home, you’re going to give me all of you.”

She nods, leaning back against the seat as I slip my finger just inside her and slowly thrust it in and out.

“I’m going to put my cock right here and take what’s mine.”  I move my lips to her ear.  “This cherry is mine, isn’t it?”  She pauses, and I urge her answer.  “What’s the proper answer, baby?”

“Yes, Daddy.”  She gives me what I want, making my cock blind to anything but the need to be inside of her.

I finger her to an orgasm, then bring my fingers to my lips to lick off her cream as we pull into the driveway at the house.

9

Vito

“YOUR CHERRY IS CALLING for me, isn’t it, baby?”  I run my hands around her throat and into her hair, gripping it between my fingers as my pulse races.

She bites into her red bottom lip, her eyes searching my face.  “I guess so.”

“You guess so?”  I grin as I lean down to her ear. “I’m going to strip you, then lay you on my bed, spread your legs and then we will let your cherry answer for you, how’s that?”

She sighs softly and nods, and I unzip the back of her dress, easing the straps off her shoulders and letting it fall to the floor.

Her lush body is shaking, but her hands come to my tie, and she tugs.

“Good girl. Undress me. I like that.”

She’s wearing a red lace lingerie set and black pumps, which she walked in like a runway model from the moment she slipped them on her feet.

She yanks my tie from the collar, then puts it between her teeth, her red lips matching the silk as she gives me a devious smile.

I shake my head as she works the buttons on my shirt.  “You’re Daddy’s little vixen.”

“Yes, Daddy.”  She drops the tie from her mouth when she answers, letting it fall and settle around her feet.

Once my shirt is unbuttoned, she strips it from me, and I pull my T-shirt over my head.  She’s got her fingers on my belt buckle, looking like the Cheshire Cat, and I’ve never seen anything more beautiful.

“Keep going,” I urge as I help her by working my shoes off, then realize she’s stalled at the button on my trousers.

“It’s too tight.”  She tugs at it and looks up at me with a grimace.  My cock is putting enough upward pressure on the fabric that it’s making her struggle.

“Try harder.”

“Yes, Daddy.”  Every time she calls me that my insides twitch like she’s poking me with her own sweet little cattle prod.

She pulls the waist of my pants one direction, then pushes the button with her other fingers.

“I think it’s coming...”  She strains with a wince, her eyes narrowed.  “Ow!”  She yelps as the button pops off and hits her on the chin.

“Sometimes you’re going to suffer a little for me, Bambina.”

“I guess.”  She giggles and works my zipper down, letting my pants fall, and I kick them off my feet. “On your knees for my socks and my underwear.  I want to see you looking up at me the first time you kiss my cock.”

I wink, and the bit of hesitation is gone as she lowers to her knees, gazing up at me.  She pulls off each sock, then her fingers work up the outsides of my legs until they are hooked under the elastic of my boxers.

“It looks like it wants out,” she teases, glancing down at the tent of fabric in front of her face.  “Like a tiger pacing in its cage.”

“Yes, babygirl. And it’s your job to tame it.  I’m going to teach you all the ways you will soothe that beast.”

She lowers my underwear, and my hard cock pops out, pointing straight at her face.

“Like with kisses?”  The mischievous lilt to her voice only makes me want her more.

Once I kick my boxers off, I take one hand and grip the base of my swollen shaft, holding it down to her lips.

“Yes, kisses will be one way.  Kiss that little drip on the tip.”

“I can’t believe I’m doing this.”  She smiles, shakes her head, then leans in, and her lips make contact with the swollen head, nearly making me cum in her face.

When she darts her tongue out to glance across the slit, then sucks the tip between those red lips, it’s all I can take.  As much as I want her mouth around my dick and my hands in her hair, fucking her face, right now I want something else.

“God,” I grit out. “You look so beautiful with my cock in your mouth.”

That virgin pussy.  I need to mark Esme as mine before I can think of anything else.

“Fuck, baby,” I grunt, reaching down for her hands. “Up.  I need something else.”

I walk her to the bed and lay her down, taking a long moment to admire her there as I stroke my erection, letting my eyes dance over the most beautiful sight they’ve ever seen.

“What do I need to do for you, Daddy?” she asks, her eyes lingering on my cock before darting up to meet my own and drifting back down again.

“You need to be my princess.  You need my dick inside that pretty little pussy.  Daddy’s pussy.  You get that, don’t you?  All of you is going to be mine.”

I climb on the bed, my hands at her shoulders, shoving my body between her legs.  “Wider,” I order in a grunt.  “Knees up, hands on my shoulders, eyes on mine.”

I run the head of my cock through her soaking softness and reach down to slap it on her clit.  She arches up, her eyes wide as she releases a low moan.

“You like that?  You like that cock giving your little pussy a spanking?”

I slap it a few more times, working it harder, hearing the smacking of flesh, feeling the sensation as her cunt meets the head of my dick. Her hips flex upward, and I feel my seed seeping out, wanting to be inside of her.

“Yes, Daddy.”  She groans out her answer, and I can’t wait any longer.

“Good girl. You want me inside you, too.  Your pussy is soaking me, begging me.”  Her eyes fall closed as I press the swollen tip to her opening.  “No, baby, look at me.  I want to see your eyes when I make you mine.”

I slip inside her opening, slick with her own cream and my dripping cum.  I feel the throbbing of the vein on my cock in time with the blood rushing in my ears.  I know I should be gentle, but my head is pounding, telling me to slam inside her, to rut into her like a beast and hear her screams.

But her trusting eyes are more important to me than my own need.

I thrust forward as she gasps, and her fingertips dig into my shoulders.

“I’m going to be inside you a lot, Bambina.  Your pussy is going to memorize my cock and learn to milk every drop of cum into your womb.”

Thrusting again, I feel her pussy clamp down and see the pain on her face.

I still my body, kissing my way down her neck then back to her lips, trying to take the pain away.  I can’t decide what part of her tastes better, her pussy or her mouth.

“It hurts,” she whimpers, and I feel her tiny body shaking beneath me.

It takes all my willpower to stay still and let her adjust—because her needs will always come before mine.  And right now, she needs to take a breath.

“I know, baby.  Breathe slow, and try to relax.  You’ve got a death grip on my cock.  You want to strangle him first time out?”

She releases a painful giggle.  “My pussy will be tried for the murder of your cock.  At least it isn’t premeditated. Hopefully, I’ll get off easy.”

“I’ll always get you off.  Easy or hard.”

She smiles up at me, and her eyes lose that look of pain as I ease back and forward, a bit at a time, until the strain on her face is gone and her pussy starts to soften and pulse around me.

“Fuck, baby, you’ve got a world-class pussy.”  I rock back and forth, letting her take a bit more of me each time, and I’ve never felt anything so good in my life.  Thoughts of her body ripe with my seed invade my brain and take hold.  “I want my cum deep inside there.  Spread your legs wide for me, Bambina.”

I kiss her lips as she breathes and starts to move with me.  Then I move down her neck and feel her arch into me, her nipples hard against my chest, and before I’m done my cock is as deep inside her as possible.

“God, Vito,” she moans as I move slowly, pressing my body down against her clit before running my tongue around her nipple and drawing it deep into my mouth.

I look down and see my thick cock, slick with her juices, pink with evidence of her virginity, spreading her open. I’ve never seen anything that turned me on more than this, right now.

“Your pussy wants what I’ve got, doesn’t it?  It’s gripping, trying to milk me.  Don’t worry, princess, you’re going to be bred with my baby before you know it.  It’s part of what’s going to make you mine.  All mine.”

She responds by raising her hips and taking my thrusts as deep as her body will allow.  My balls are tight, but I want to feel her cum on my cock before I release my load.

As I lower my head to her nipples again, working one then the other with my mouth and teeth, I bring my thumb to her lips.

“Get my thumb nice and wet, baby, I’m going to rub that little button of yours.”

She moans and draws my thumb into her warm mouth.  When it’s slick with her spit, I bring it out and lower it between us, finding her swollen pearl and starting to move in a circle while my hips drive in and out of her.

She licks her cherry-red lips with a moan.  She’s a cross between pure innocence and pure sin as her brilliant blue eyes look up at me.

Her face is glazed with lust, and her movements grow more frantic as my thumb works her clit.  Fucking her unprotected pussy, my seed is ready to coat her womb, but she’s so close; I need to hold back until her walls pull it out of me with her own pleasure.

The delicious scent of our sex fills my nose and drives me to the edge of my sanity.  I want that scent every day from now on.  I want my cum on her. In her. I want the taste of her cream on my tongue.

I’ll be buried between her legs with my mouth or my cock every morning from today forward because I already know I can never live without her—without this.

Her breathing comes faster, her eyes rolling back and glazed.  I imagine her walking differently tomorrow, sitting gingerly because I plan on fucking her raw all night until she knows without a doubt she will never leave me.

She’s moaning like these are her last moments on earth, and her cream is dripping down my balls.  She’s close, I feel the pulse of her walls.

“Tell me you want me to cum inside you.  Tell me you want me to breed you,” I grit out, and my words send her higher, her legs spread impossibly wide as I drive into her.

Her sounds turn feral.  This sweet, innocent girl is riding every stroke like it’s her safe harbor in a storm.

My dick has never been so hard, and my balls are screaming for relief.  I look at her face and see her eyes squeezed shut, her red lips open as her nipples rake against my chest.

“Yes, please, Daddy.  I want it...”

“Know I’ll never let you go.  Know I’m in charge now.  Once I cum inside you, I’m never letting you go.”

Her eyes flick open for a moment, then close again as her body gives way.  She screams to the ceiling as I plow inside her, driving my cock as deep as her body will allow, her womb hard against the tip of my dick as her body clenches around me.

I let myself go and feel my warm seed spray inside her, taking her innocence and letting her feel for the first time how much I want to take root.  To bind her to me, so she can never leave.

I keep contact with her engorged clit until she goes off again.

“That’s a good girl.  Milk every drop.  It belongs inside you.  Your pussy is telling me it wants all that sticky cum deep, for you to walk around with, knowing who you belong to now.”

Another orgasm rips through her, and wet heat cascades over my dick and down my balls, making a huge wet spot on the velvet beneath us.

She’s nearly convulsing, screaming so loud I’m sure if anyone could hear they would call the cops.

Her body goes limp, and I bring my hands up, running both of them under her back and cradling her close, my dick held deep inside her body.

I kiss her cheeks, her lips, her ears, everywhere I can reach, while I listen to her breathing slow.  She’s so sweet, but I want her to be so dirty for me.

I let my cock drop out of her, then pull her next to me.  “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Her hazy eyes try to focus.  “How can that be?  I still can’t believe all this.”

“I just know.  I’m a man that knows when he knows.  And I want you to be clear.”  My voice deepens.  “This is not just about sex.  You are something special, something I never expected.  Doubt me if you will, but you did just take my cock, take my seed, so you have to know somewhere deep down that I’m right.  That there is something between us I can never lose, Esme.  And I won’t.”

She turns so her ass is against my still-hard cock and starts to wiggle.

“I do think this is something special,” she admits.  “And maybe you can show me just how deep down you know it.”

Instantly hard again, I slip my cock between her legs and into her warm heaven, thrusting into her from behind.

“Know I’m going to take care of you, Bambina.  All of you.”

10

Esme

“MMMMM,” I MOAN AS VITO puts a bite of the omelet in my mouth.

I’m exhausted and sore from the night.  Sex has never been on my mind, but with Vito, it seems I’m a bit of a savant because once we started, I never wanted to stop.

By 4 a.m., Vito shut me down, knowing I wanted to go to work this morning, even though he protested that I could afford to take one day off.  When I told him how proud my parents were when I got my internship, he softened a bit but made me go to sleep so I would at least have a few hours’ rest before the day started.

“Good girl.  Now, drink some juice.  You need to replenish your fluids.”  He picks up the empty plate and puts it in the small kitchen sink in the pool house.

We took an early morning skinny dip, but I stayed in the shallow end, making sure I was close to the edge, hanging onto Vito the whole time. Afterward, he made me the most amazing feta, spinach, onion and bacon omelet.  Since the kitchen in the main house is in the beginning stages of being remodeled, he cooked out here.

And Vito’s pool house is nicer than any home I’ve ever been in.

My hair is still damp from our shower after our swim, where Vito washed and conditioned it like I was a prize beauty queen.  I’m wearing one of the new outfits he bought me yesterday.  It’s a simple navy-blue wrap dress, but it fits like a glove. He paired it with a pair of nude peep-toe pumps, and I wonder what everyone at work is going to think when I walk in looking like I just knocked off Bloomingdale’s.

Of course, I insisted on adding my red lipstick.  Some things will never change.

Vito brings the last bite to my lips and I open like a child and he smiles as I chew.

“I know your secret.”  He says as he puts the empty plate in the sink wiping his hands on a red towel.

I put my hand over my mouth before my reply.  “My secret?”  I’m confused, I don’t live the kind of life that has secrets.

“Yes.  You’re secret waffle mix.”

I chuckle and swallow.  “Yes, it’s quite dark isn’t it?  I’m so sorry you found out before I could explain.”

“Yes, I will forgive you.  But I expect to be introduced to this nefarious part of your life very soon.”

I smile and cross my arms.  “We will see.  Very few have had the privilidge.”

Vito gives me a playful glare.  “I’ll be as patient as possible.”

He wipes up the counter then brings his fingers to my face and brushes off some crumbs from the toast.

“Ready?”  I nod.  “I have some business that can’t be put off today, but I will be meeting you for lunch at one.  Hamilton has the address.  Keep your phone on so I can check on you.”

“Got it,” I answer, grabbing my sketchbook as we make our way through the house to the front door.  I got the sketch pad yesterday when we went shopping so that I could make some plans for how his house—our house—is going to look.

When Vito opens the front door, the limo is there running already with the back door open. His driver, Hamilton, tips his hat toward me.

“I programmed Hamilton’s number into your phone.  Call him whenever you need a ride anywhere.  Okay?”

“Really?  I still think this is a dream.”  I laugh, knowing I’ve said that about a thousand times since he picked me up off the street.

“It is.  And I never want to wake up.”  Vito kisses me soft and warm, his tongue sliding between my lips as I sigh, and that familiar tingle starts between my legs. Then he pulls away, hands on my cheeks.  “You have everything?”

“Yes.”  I nod, breathing in his masculine scent, a hint of my pussy still on his lips from the quick orgasm he gave me on the counter in the pool house.

“Good girl.  Daddy will see you in a few hours.  I’ll check on you now and then.  Message me whenever you like. Know I’m always with you.”  I nod, then he adds, “Oh, and when you get home, you’re going to have your first swimming lesson.”

My eyes go wide, and I start to protest, but he shakes his head and finishes, “It’s for your safety, Bambina.  It will be fun. For us both, I assure you.  No swimsuits allowed. Now, go on.”  He smacks my behind and walks me out the front door.

With that, I’m riding in the back of a limo with a driver, on my way to my unpaid internship at the courthouse, trying to sketch a few decorating ideas on the way but too anxious to really concentrate.  I need to see Nadine, and I’m wondering how I’m going to handle the whole incident with the job ‘tip’ she gave me.

Maybe she didn’t know?  Maybe she did.  Ugh.  Either way, it’s uncomfortable at best and a confrontation at the worst.

I mean, I don’t know her well, and she did say it was a friend of a friend that gave her the tip.  I shake off the tension and try to focus on the fact that the very unpleasant situation I found myself in ran me right into Vito, who seems like a dream come true...even if I’m still half in doubt that it’s all real.

When I get to my desk and turn on my computer, my task list for the day is a mile long.  After I deliver the usual round of coffee to the DAs on my roster and some of the judges, I settle in and start an evidence spreadsheet for a new case, but I can’t keep my mind on work.

It’s Vito. It’s Nadine. But I’m also sort of obsessed with the decorating at his house. In my mind, ideas are swirling around, and every few minutes I sneak out my sketch pad and doodle something or make some notes.

It just feels good.

After an hour, I take a deep breath and decide to find Nadine.  I need to get this out of the way so I can at least clear that space in my head about what happened and what she knew.

I walk over to her cube, but it’s empty, and I almost lose my nerve.  But when I look around for a pad of Post-its or something to write her a note on, I see Darryl, a paralegal who works with her, and force myself to be brave.  With a deep breath, I step to the opening in his workspace and clear my throat, drawing his attention.

“Hi, Darryl.  Do you know if Nadine is around?”

He shakes his head.  “Haven’t seen her today.  I know she’s working on a new file.  She’s been spending a lot of time outside the office.”  He thinks for a second then shrugs. “I saw on her calendar a note about a meeting at that expensive Italian restaurant over on Wisconsin. Paesano’s.”  His fingers click on the keyboard in front of him as he stares at the monitor. My stomach sinks when I look down at her calendar and see the words scribbled on today’s date.

Sal, Paesano’s, 10:00 AM, and the pieces start to fall together.  Nadine sent me to that job. She knew.

That’s the same restaurant Vito took me to the other night. Vito said he had a meeting today and we’d meet for lunch at the same restaurant.

“Okay. Thanks.”  I force the words out, barely able to stand.  My stomach turns over.  It can’t be what I’m thinking. I’ll get there, and it will all be completely innocent, and I’ll laugh at myself for being such an idiot.

I grab my phone out of my pocket and bring up Hamilton’s number, then hesitate. What if there’s some connection?  All this with Vito went so quickly.

I shake my head. No way Vito could be connected to this Sal.

He’s been so vague about what he really does, but I know his family name.  I know he operates on the other side of the law. I’m sure if the DA found out I was involved with him, my internship would be over.

My stomach is in knots as my more practical mind begins to override the lust and Cinderella fantasies I’ve been riding since the other night.

If I call Hamilton, he would surely tell Vito he’s on the way with me, and that would give them a heads-up. Swiping away from Hamilton’s number, I turn back to Darryl and force a smile. “Hey, do you know what cab company is fastest around here?”

I know I shouldn’t leave work, but something inside me demands to know what’s going on. “Sure.” He sniffs then finishes. “Everyone here uses A2B Taxis. Usually there’s one downstairs waiting around, but if you’re in a hurry I’d give them a call, just to make sure.”

“Thanks.”  I’ve got the number pulled up on my phone and by the time I’m finished dialing I’m already taking the elevator down to the lobby.

“MISS, CAN I HELP YOU...?”  The maître d’ looks serious, but his voice sounds distant as I walk into the restaurant.

I have tunnel vision as my eyes focus like a spotlight just got thrown on and is illuminating a single table with four people seated and one standing. Two women. Three men.

All but one of them I recognize.

And I cannot believe what I’m seeing.

This is a million times worse than what I imagined. A bazillion times worse. How could I be taken in so easily? Was this just an elaborate setup?  How would they have known where I’d run that night?  How would Vito have put himself in a position to ‘save’ me?

I swallow hard, trying to keep from being sick.

Nadine is one of the two women at the table. And from what I’m seeing, she’s fully involved in whatever it is that they’re doing. To her right is a woman I don’t recognize. She’s pretty and very young. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s barely able to legally drink the glass of wine in her hand. She’s laughing and smiling and leaning in close to Salvatore.

I’m suddenly freezing cold, and there’s a buzzing in my ears. Standing off to his right, I see the man from the pool at Vito’s. And then there’s the last person at the table.

Vito.

Nadine leans in, talking to Salvatore, and from what I see, they all seem pretty damn friendly.

“Miss, do you have a reservation? If you’re not eating, I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

I turn and stare at the waiter, who looks embarrassed to be confronting me. Then I see a flash of recognition in his eyes and his manner softens. He’s the same waiter that tended to our table all night last night.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize it was you, miss. Nobody told me you would be coming. Please, can I get you anything while you wait? Would you like me to tell Mr. Vitaglia that you’ve arrived?”

I shake my head. “No. Please. Don’t tell anyone that I’m here.”

The waiter glances over at the table, then back at me as I take a step back behind the corner of the wall out of sight of the others. “Mr. Vitaglia might not be happy if I don’t tell him you’re here...”

“Please...”  It’s clear that appealing to his compassion isn’t going to work, so I change tactics. “I want to freshen up before he knows I’m here.”  Forcing a smile onto my face feels like the most difficult thing I’ve ever done, but it works.

“Okay... Of course. The bathroom is—”

“I know. Thank you.”  With my heart pounding, I flee in the direction of the bathroom, feeling queasy, and my head doesn’t feel attached to my shoulders.

Inside, I run for the nearest stall and lock the door behind me, sitting on top of the seat and burying my face in my hands. Desperate for help, I take out my phone and dial my mom’s number.  Sometimes you just need your mom, but there’s no answer.

I have no idea what I’m going to do. I’m trapped here in the bathroom, and if I don’t come out in the next ten minutes, that waiter is going to tell Vito I’m here for sure. The dress I’m wearing, the shoes, they’re Vito’s. He bought and paid for me, just like Salvatore planned to do.  I’m being groomed.

Then I hear the squeal of the bathroom door hinge and soft giggling, then voices.

“So, you and Sal, huh?  The job turned into something more.”  Nadine’s voice hints at pride. “You owe me, you know?”

The other woman answers.  “I know. I was scared at first, but turns out escorting isn’t so bad.  The money is great, and now that Sal and I are together, who knows. Maybe he’ll retire me, and I’ll be a kept woman.”

Nadine chuckles.  “I wouldn’t mind being Vito’s kept woman.  Fuck, he’s hot.  If things go the way I want, he won’t be leaving here alone. I’m hoping I can at least offer him a little taste.  Maybe get on my hands and knees under the table for a little pre-show.”  They both giggle some more, then the first woman’s voice comes through again.

“Honestly, I’m happier with Salvatore. He’s talked about Vito.  Says he has no soul—a sociopath sort of. Sal says you brought him a girl from work. That was ballsy, an intern for the DA...you didn’t think she would go running back and blow things up for you?  The five grand you get for each recruit wouldn’t pay for your attorney fees.”

“Sal would pay.  Besides, she’s like a scared little mouse. The DA would believe me.  I’d just say I had no idea what she was talking about and why was she meeting with a known crime boss at his place of business at night.  I’d spin it just fine.  It’s what I do.”

My throat is closing.  It feels like there’s a black hole where my heart should be sucking all the light out of me.

All I can think to do is run. I pull the door open, slamming it into the stall wall, putting my head down in a sprint for the exit. Adding insult to injury, I twist my ankle, falling into the wall on the ridiculous high heels just this morning I thought were so glamorous.

With a sharp pain in my ankle, I push through the door and out into the restaurant. The waiter sees me and steps my way, his arm outstretched, ready to usher me to the table, but I push past toward the nearest door, which turns out to be the kitchen.

Everything seems to be spinning as I stumble, nearly falling flat on my face as a heel breaks. I kick the shoe off, then the other, and dart for the back door, tumbling out into the restaurant parking lot struggling to breathe.

I dart my eyes around, trying to figure out what to do, then hear my phone ringing in my brand-new Gucci handbag—another “gift” from Vito. When I fish it out, I see my mom’s number, and despite the fact that I want to run away and never look back, I try to calm myself because I need a friendly voice right now.

“Hi, Mom.”  My racing heart thunders in my ears as I press myself against the back wall of the restaurant and slide over toward the street.

Only my mom is crying.

“Esme, it’s all gone. There’s no money left, and I now have a final foreclosure notice on the house. I’m so sorry, baby, we tried.”  Her voice cracks, and it’s hard to make out what’s she’s saying.  “I have a week to come up with the house payments and late charges. If not, the sheriff will come and remove me and our belongings. Your father doesn’t know, it would kill him.  He was thinking he was coming home soon.”

“Mom, calm down, we’ll figure it out.”  For a moment, my problems seem less important. I knew things weren’t good; I knew they had debts, but not this.  Not losing the house in a week.  “You should have told me sooner,” I say, fighting back tears. “But it’s just money. We’ll figure it out.”

“Oh, Esme, I’m sorry, I saw you called, and I just got the final notice...I think I was just pretending it wouldn’t happen. There would be some miracle. You say it’s going to be all right, but it’s not. I don’t have this kind of money.”

“How much do you need to save the house?”

“Too much.”  She chokes out a laugh, and I can hear that it’s mixed with a sob.

“How much?”

“To save the house, we need to buy it back from the county at this point.  It’s gone into foreclosure sale.  We had four months to buy it back, but time is up.  It’s two hundred and eighty thousand dollars. That’s the minimum payment. With all the medical debt and other past-due bills, I don’t know. It’s probably around seven hundred thousand by now. With no insurance, it could be a million by the end of the year.  We are in a hole we can’t crawl out of, and it just keeps getting deeper.  Besides that, now that there’s no insurance money, they are going to move your father out to a Medicaid-run home.  He won’t get any of the therapy, he’ll just sit there. He’ll never get better.”

“We’ll figure it out, Mom.  Please, don’t cry.”

“It’s so much money, there’s no way.  I’m going to claim bankruptcy, but it’s too late to save the house.”

“Just...don’t worry about that.  Mom, I have to go.  I’ll call you back.  Just don’t give up.”

“I love you, baby.  I’m so sorry.”

“I love you, too, Mom.”

I end the call, and my heart is in my throat.  I’m an unpaid intern living on the savings from a waitressing job.  How can I possibly find that kind of money?

I choke back the tears, trying to focus on what I need to do right now—which is to get as far away from Vito Vitaglia as possible.

As I start dialing the number for A2B Taxis, I look over and notice a guy sitting in an open-top sports car just at the corner of the restaurant parking lot where I’m standing, staring at me.

When he climbs out and starts to wander my way, I figure he’s going to ask me for a light or why I’m standing behind the restaurant with no shoes on, but instead, he meets my eyes and pulls his lips to one side looking concerned.

“You okay?” he starts as I swipe away the tears running down my cheeks.  Before I can answer, he adds, “Hey, I know you.”

I shake my head.  “I don’t think so.”

He smiles, and it’s genuine when I expect it to be creepy.  “Yes, I do, but you don’t know me. You’re Esme.”  He sticks out his hand.  “I’m Malcolm Fideri.  I work with Vito.  I saw a photo of you on Vito’s phone, but it’s good to meet you in the flesh.  Hey, I’m so sorry, but I overheard you talking—”

“Leave me the fuck alone!”  I scream as I step back, throwing my arms up between us like they’re some sort of force field.  My mind is spinning.

“Hey. I’m not going to—”

“You don’t know me, and I don’t know you.  Just get back, or I swear to God...”

He throws his arms up.  “Okay, okay, this is me stepping back.  I don’t know what’s going on here, but I’m trying to help.  I can help you.  Vito can help you.”

“I don’t want your help.”  I turn and glance down the road.  There’s a cab, and I stick my arm out, but it drives right past.  “Damn it.”  Turning back to the parking lot, I see Malcolm disappearing inside the back door of the restaurant, and I know where he’s going.  I need to get out of here.

Running in my bare feet isn’t much better than running in the heels.

I just have to hope a cab comes along before it’s too late.

11

Vito

“VITO, I NEED A WORD.”  Malcolm leans down close to me at the table, and I turn his way, lowering my voice.

“What are you doing here?”

“Just wanted you to have a friendly face nearby.”  He glances around the table, smiling at Salvatore. “Besides, I’m hungry.”

Salvatore laughs. “Hey, Malcolm, you know if you want to join the winning team there’s always a place at my table for a man of your...specific talents.”

Malcolm shoots him a look but doesn’t respond.  There’s no love lost between the two of them.  “It’s Esme,” he says, quiet enough that only I can hear it.

My hackles go up.  “What about her?”

“She’s was out in the back parking lot.  I overheard her on the phone.  It sounded bad.  Sounded like family.”

“What the fuck?  Why didn’t she come in?  Why didn’t you bring her in here to me?  Why the fuck didn’t Hamilton let me know they were on their way?”  Something feels wrong, and I need to get out of here.

I scribble my signature on the handwritten paper in front of me, no longer caring if I could have negotiated something better.  It’s not exactly a contract, but it’s as close as they come in my line of work.  The courts may not think much of it, but the crime families will honor it to the end of their bloodlines.

“I have to go. Sal, that concludes our business.”

I was pissed already when Sal and I were halfway through with our chat and the two girls showed up and he let them sit down.  Good thing we were done with our discussion, a signature and a handshake all that was left to do, but still.  It was fucking disrespectful, and I know he was trying to throw his new business in my face.

I turn to Malcolm, and he steps back when he sees the look in my eyes.

“Hey, I tried, you know?  She started screaming for me to stay away from her.  What was I supposed to do?”

A waiter walks up behind him holding a pair of shoes and a heel that’s broken off one of them.  They’re the same heels I bought for Esme that she had on this morning.

“Mr. Vitaglia?  Sir, sorry, I think your lady friend dropped these.  She seemed in quite a state—”

“What the fuck?”  I think I’m losing it.  “Why the hell didn’t you bring this to me before?”

“I—I—didn’t know what to do, sir.  You were busy, and she told me not to tell you she was here—”

“Fuck.”

Something’s very wrong.  I can feel it.  Malcolm isn’t exactly a saint, but nor is he a monster, and he doesn’t look like one.  For Esme to be scared of him means she’s scared of me, and the fact that she’s at this restaurant but told the waiter not to let me know says I’ve done something wrong.

I grab my copy of the agreement off the table, foregoing the handshake and giving Salvatore a death glare.  I scrunch the paper in my hand as I rush out through the kitchens toward the parking lot with Malcolm on my heels.

Esme works for the DA.  I’m not exactly the poster child for a law-abiding citizen.  Maybe when she got to work today, she did some digging.  Found out things...

Fuck.  I’m not losing her.  I’ll turn my life upside down if need be, but she’s not getting away from me, especially after last night.  My baby could be inside her right now.  She’s bound to me, and I will figure out how to fix this.

Outside, there’s no sign of Esme.  “Fuck!” I grunt out, then turn to Malcolm.  “Was she here?  Right here?”

“Yeah, she was trying to hail a cab.”  He points toward the street.  “Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”

I step out into the road and see a cab disappearing around the corner.  It’s busy, and there are hundreds of cabs around here, but something tells me it’s her.  As crazy as it sounds, it’s like I can feel her heartbeat from here—like we’re connected on some other level.

“Go over to her place, wait for me there. If Esme turns up, don’t fucking let her leave.”

I give Malcolm the address, and he doesn’t say a word before jumping back into his car.  It's closer than mine, so he’s the first out of the parking lot.  I’m only a split second behind as I tear out of there in my Suburban, ignoring the blare of horns as I join the traffic and speed down the road, cutting across the sidewalk as I take the corner.

The traffic isn’t light, but I can see the cab a few hundred yards down the road.  I weave around some cars traveling way too slow and then cut off another, hearing the screaming horn as I put my foot down.  As I pull up behind her cab, I flash my lights and lean on the horn, then push forward, getting up close.  I can see someone in the back of the cab, and when they turn around to see who’s behind, it’s like a weight is lifted.

It’s her.  It’s Esme.

She tries to wave me off, but I shake my head and mouth that I’m not going anywhere.  Esme looks furious, but she’s not getting rid of me that easily.  I call her, but after one ring it goes straight to voicemail—either she has it turned off, or more likely she rejected my call.

A second later, she holds up a sign to the back window.  “Leave me ALONE. I know!”  It’s written in her trademark red lipstick on the drawing pad she picked out yesterday.  Even now, the thought of that red lipstick smeared down the shaft of my cock as she sucks me off flashes through my mind.

I’m a fucking monster.

I shake my head, then hold my hand up to my ear in the shape of a phone.  A second later, I try calling her again, and this time she answers, but there’s fury in her voice.

“Leave. Me. Alone.”  Her voice slices through the silence inside the car on the speaker.

“No fucking way, Bambina.  I can’t.  I’d rather die than live another day without you.”

She chokes out a laugh.  “Yeah, or maybe you’d rather I die instead, huh?”

“What are you talking about?  Has someone threatened you, Esme?  Because if they have, they just breathed their last breath and they don’t even know it.  I will chase them down in a heartbeat and break every fucking bone in their body.”

“Sure.  I saw you, Vito.  I saw you with that guy from my interview the other night...never mind, doesn’t matter, I don’t want to think about it.  I don’t want to think about the two of you comparing notes and—”

I slam my fists on the steering wheel in a rage.  Fucking Salvatore.  I should have put it together, but she said she went to a restaurant to interview, not a seedy office in the back of a warehouse.  Still, I should have asked more questions.

The cab speeds up to get through traffic lights before they change to red, and I follow suit, running through the next light, but I don’t care.  I’m not losing her.

“Don’t act like you don’t know, Vito. You, him, Nadine, that guy from your house yesterday.  You all looked pretty damn cozy.  Nadine said it was just going to be a hostess job, but of course, all of you were planning to draw me in from the start, weren’t you?  So was I just another girl, or did you look for me specifically?  Did I fit some sick bastard’s requirements or—”

“Esme, I didn’t have anything to do with any of this.  We used to be in business together.  Used to.  I severed ties with him as soon as he said he was going to start running girls.  I always said that was my line, and he agreed for a long time.  As soon as he broke that pact, I called off our arrangement.  We were finalizing things, that’s all.”

“Sure, of course, you did, I’m really that gullible.”

I grab the handwritten agreement off the seat beside me and slap it against the windshield.  “This is an agreement. It’s a kind of contract between Salvatore and me.  It says that I give up all claim to his parts of the business and he gives up any claim to mine.  We’ve parted ways, Esme.  That’s what that meeting was about.  We settled everything.  I don’t know those girls.  Truth is, I was fucking pissed when they showed up and sat down.  Fucking Sal disrespecting me is what that was, as his final fuck you.”

She laughs.  “This was all too good to be true. You had your fun with the stupid, naïve girl.”

I let out a low growl.  Fucking Salvatore.  I don’t understand how he’s fallen so far so quickly.

Once upon a time, we were childhood friends, and he was a decent man.  Neither of us was always on the right side of the law, but we still had a code.

I sigh, gripping the steering wheel with my left hand as I take the note down off the windscreen and drop it back on the seat, then meet Esme’s eyes.  “Stop the goddamn cab and come back here and read it for yourself.  Then decide.”

12

Esme

“SURE, SO YOU CAN kidnap me.  Is that part of your work?”  I shake my head.  “No, thanks.”

“Do you really think I’d do that?  Look at me, Esme, tell me what you really think.”

I meet Vito’s eyes, and even with the space between the two vehicles, my heart melts.  He’s so strong, but I can see the pain in his eyes.

“Please read the note, Esme.”

I let out a sigh.  “Fine.”  Hanging up without another word, I turn to the driver.  “Stop the car, please.”

“Are you crazy, lady? If I stop now, that guy’s going to run right into the back of us.”

“No, he won’t. Just stop the car.”

“If he runs into my cab—”

“Stop being such a drama queen and stop the car!”

He grunts, but I feel him tap the brakes, and Vito falls back behind us. A few moments later the cab driver stops, and I jump out.

“Hey!”  he shouts.  “You gotta pay me!”

“One sec.  I’ll be right back, please just wait.  I’ll pay you, just wait...”  He rolls his eyes, throwing up his hands, but puts the cab in park at the curb.  I don’t want him to leave because I’m sure I’ll be back in the cab and on my way in a minute.

I march back to the Suburban and climb in beside Vito.  He thrusts the handwritten note at me, and I start reading.

The note says that he and Salvatore agree that neither has any claim on the other’s businesses, nor will they be liable for any bad debts or legal problems.  It’s a clean break without prejudice or bad blood between their families.

He was telling the truth.

I pinch the bridge of my nose as I finish reading what’s written there.  “Is this real?”

“Of course it is, Bambina. I wouldn’t ever lie to you.”

I nod.  “Well, I’m glad you’re not who I was beginning to think you were.  You seemed like a good man, and this whole fairy tale has been amazing.  But it’s really just fantasy.  I have a real life and people who depend on me.  I work for the DA; you and I...we just don’t fit, and besides, I have things I have to deal with right now, and whatever this was between us...”  I shake my head.  “I don’t know, it’s just not the right time, I guess. Different worlds we live in.”

The reality of that statement hits me hard.  My mom and dad need me, and I have no idea how to help, but I do know I will do everything I can to try, including quitting my internship and moving back home... I’ll have to take any job I can.  It might be too little too late, but I have to try.  After everything else, they can’t lose their home. I won't let it happen.

“I know that someone you care about is having money problems.  That guy you met at the restaurant? His name’s Malcolm, and he’s a friend.  He told me about your phone call.”

“My mom,” I say, nodding.  “The medical bills have just been piling up.  Now they are losing the house.”

“Your mom’s sick?”

“No.  My dad.  He broke his back.  He used to be her rock, used to always be able to pay his way, but then he had an accident.  My mom used up all their savings, took out a second mortgage on the house.  Now they owe so much they're on the verge of losing everything.  On top of that, Dad’s still getting treatment at a rehab facility, but he’s being kicked out.  The foreclosure is nearly done.”  I shake my head.  “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this, it’s not your problem.”

“Yes, it is.”  Vito taps at his phone.  “How much do they need?”

I choke out a laugh.  “It’s too much.”

The phone starts ringing on the car’s speakers as Vito turns to me.  “This is your family, and that makes them my family.  I’ve never had anything to use my money for that I really cared about until now.  It’s just piling up in bank accounts and safes.”

There’s a click, and an English-accented voice sounds over the speakers.  “Vito, unusual to hear from you outside our scheduled meetings.  What can I do for you?”

“Hi, Andy, I’ve got someone with me.  I need you to make a draw from the Cayman account.”  Vito turns to me.  “Andy is my accountant. Tell me how much you need.”

I hesitate.  It’s sweet that he wants to help, but when I tell him how much my mom owes, he’s going to tell me he can’t help.  But when he takes my hand and nods encouragingly, something makes me blurt out the truth.  “Seven hundred thousand,” I mutter, bracing myself for what comes next.  “Almost three hundred thousand this week, or she loses the house.”

Vito doesn’t blink.  “Did you hear that, Andy?”

“Sure.  Seven hundred thousand dollars from the cash account.  No problem, consider it done.  Who shall I pay it to?”

“Pay it to Esme...”  A smile plays on Vito’s lips.  “I still don’t know your last name.”

I hear my voice as if from a distance, barely able to believe what’s happening.  “Tremaine. It’s Tremaine.”  My voice catches in my throat, and I realize I’m crying.  “But don’t...I don’t want the money.  Pay it to Elizabeth Tremaine, that’s my mom.”  I give him the address of my mom’s house over the speakerphone.

“Okay.  She’ll have the money by the end of today.  Is that all you needed, Vito?”

“Could you also look up the best facility in the country for physiotherapy and make inquiries about transferring a patient as soon as possible?  I’ll be paying for the treatment, as well as a rental close by for Esme’s mom.  And set up an account in her name with another five hundred thousand to start, then we will go from there.”

“Of course.  No problem.  I’ll get on it now.”

There’s a click, and the line cuts off, and Vito and I are left alone again.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” I mutter.  “Is this real?”

“Esme Tremaine, you’re mine now. I’m going to protect you, and I’m going to look after your family.  But part of that deal means you need to tell me if there are ever any problems.  I can do whatever is in my power to fix them, but I need to know what they are to do that.  You understand?”

I nod and wipe at my tears.  “Thank you.  There is something else.”

“What, baby?  Anything you need, just tell me.”

Taking Vito’s hand, I look into his eyes and choke out a laugh through the tears.  “The cab driver is still waiting for me to pay him, and I don’t have any cash.”

13

Vito

SHE’S RIDING MY DICK like she was created just for my pleasure, and deep down, I believe she was.

In the last two weeks since the shit went down at the restaurant, the number of hours we’ve been apart could be counted on two hands.  I moved all her things from her apartment to the house the next day.  We’ve fucked, planned, talked, laughed, worked, played and discovered trust—and that in this world, there is magic, and she’s mine.

“You like that, baby?  Daddy’s cock deep in your tight pussy?”

She throws her head back and bounces up and down on my dick, her tits swaying and mesmerizing me.

“Yes, Daddy,” she moans, her eyes nearly closed as she quickens the tempo, and I feel her pussy starting to pulse around my cock.

When she cums with a moan, I grip her around the waist and pull her against me as I stand, my cock still buried to the hilt.

I push her against the hotel room wall, the New York skyline dark against the sunrise outside the floor-to-ceiling windows of our suite on Central Park West.  Yesterday, we settled her father into a private room at the world’s best spinal cord rehab center here in New York City and got her mom set up in an apartment within walking distance.

I give her a few long, hard strokes before pulling her off my shaft and setting her feet on the floor.

“Nooo,” she complains, and I smile.  “More, Daddy.  Pleeeease.”

“I’m going to give you more, babygirl.  Right now, Daddy’s mouth wants to taste your pussy.  I’m going to give it some special kisses just like you like.”

I drop to my knees and spread her feet wide, sliding my tongue into her and smiling as her protests turn to rocking hips and gentle moans of pleasure.

I reach around and grab her ass, still warm from the spanking she got a couple of hours ago for back-talking when I asked her a question, then sticking her tongue out at me when I corrected her.

Her inner brat likes to come out and play now and then, and I welcome it, but I also like to let her know who we are—turns out a nice red ass does the trick.  It also turns me the fuck on and makes her wicked horny, so it’s a win-win for everyone.

I lick her seeping gash and lift one leg up and onto my shoulder, plastering her soaking warmth onto my mouth.  I crave her taste like an addict craves his next hit, and it’s impossible to count the number of hours I’ve spent eating her until she’s begging me to stop.

I spread her ass cheeks, then slip one hand down and into her opening, slicking my fingers before running them back up to her tight rear entrance and sliding one inside as I bite on her clit, sending her into near convulsions.

The words that come from my sweet little girl would make a pimp blush.  As she cums, I take my other hand and slip two fingers into her pulsing sex, taking her in every way I can.

She goes off again, her hands on my head keeping her upright and her pussy soaking me with her juice.  I drink it down like a parched man.

Before she can stop shaking, I pull her from the wall, half-carry her over to a desk in front of the windows, and lean her over, kicking her legs apart and lining up my dick.

Her pussy is soaking, and I stand there, the tip of my cock just resting at her opening as I listen to her whimper.

“Daddy, please...”

“Daddy, please, what?”

She pushes her hips back, but I retreat, and she lets out a sullen cry.

“Ask nicely,”  I grit out, bringing my hand down on the side of her ass.

“Please, Daddy, fuck me.  I’ll be a good girl, I promise.”

“That’s better.  Know you worship your Daddy.  You worship his cock.  You are his pleasure.  You are his joy and his toy.  Now push that pussy back on my cock like you know you want to, naughty girl.  Show Daddy how dirty you are for him.”

She does as I ask, taking me deep in one motion, and her wet heat feels as good as the first time.  I reach down and gather her hair into one hand and pull.  Her neck arches along with her back, and I can’t help but admire the curves of her body when I get to hold her like this.

I meet her backward movements with my thrusts, going nearly into her belly, knowing very soon my seed will take root and my little princess breeder will be full of me.  I love her scent, my inner animal needing to fuck her like a bitch in heat.

Her ass jiggles as our bodies slap together, and I see her pussy lips spread obscenely far apart as she takes me down to my balls.

I grunt and pull at her hair, feeling like a caveman.  She takes everything I give her, as rough as it is sometimes, but I know when we are all done, I will take care of my sweet girl however she needs.

Her body clenches around my cock as I reach around and pinch her clit, sending her off into orgasmland again, and I’m ready to offload into her for the fourth time in as many hours.

It’s a wonder we get anything else done in life, but we do.  Somehow.  Sleep is foregone often, but I do always make sure my girl is safe and healthy above all else.

“That’s it, dirty little girl.  Cum on that cock.  Beg for my cum.  Do you deserve it?  Do you deserve Daddy to fill that wet hole with his cum?”

My words send her into another pulsing orgasm.  As she pants, her words are low and breathless.

“Please, Daddy.  Cum inside me.  I’ll be your best girl, I just want to feel it inside me.  That warm, hot present you have for me.  Please...”

I grunt and slam into her, making her yelp.  Her hands clutch tightly to the desk as it rocks back on two legs, and everything that was on top of it ends up on the floor.

I surge upward, driving my cock inside her until I feel myself bottom out at her womb and then let myself go.  Jets of cum flood into her body as my climax makes stars dance in my eyes, and the muscles in my legs spasm as my balls empty.

Then I carry her limp body to the bed and hold a bottle of water to her lips.

“Drink, sweet Bambina.”

Her mouth opens, and she swallows a few gulps, her eyes half-closed.  Looking at her, lying spent and well-fucked on the rumpled bedding, I’m reminded of how fucking lucky I am.  I’ve fucked her on every available surface in the suite since we came back here after dinner with her mother and father last night.

Still, it’s not enough.  My cock is still hard, refusing to go down without a fight.

I roll her onto her back, staring into her glazed eyes as I open her legs and climb on top, putting my mouth next to her ear.

“Daddy needs you one more time, baby.  I need to get off inside you, just lie still and be quiet for me, okay, princess?”

I slip into her hot pussy easily and put one hand over her mouth.

“Shhhh, baby.  Daddy’s almost done.”

Our naughty role-play comes and goes, but it feeds us both.

She nods softly, turning her head sideways on the pillow as I nuzzle into her neck and fuck her in long, slow strokes until we both cum.

Then I roll off her and pull the sheet up over her as her breathing deepens and she’s taken by slumber.  I should be tired, but I have work to do, so I kiss her lips and whisper into her ear, knowing she’ll hear me in her dreams.

“I love you, princess.  You are my world.”

With that, I’m out of the bed, and I get my laptop out.  Carrying it through to the long dining table in the living area of the suite, I sit down and log on.

I run my hands through my hair and see I have two emails I’ve been waiting for.

The first is from Malcolm.

Hey partner,

Attached are the pictures from the contractor, showing the completed work at the offices. Everything looks good to me. We are ready for our meetings end of next week.  We have other stuff to talk about too, but you asked for radio silence until you called me, so I’m standing by.

Malcolm

I open the next email.

Mr. Vitaglia,

So wonderful to chat with you yesterday, it’s been a long time. I have made the arrangements we discussed, and Miss Tremaine can start the beginning of next month as my intern. I look forward to meeting her and having her creative efforts blossom.

She has an office ready and waiting, as well as my personal recommendation to enter the School of Design at Lambrook, should she so choose.

It’s always been a pleasure to work with you, your family, and your associates.

Speak soon,

Raphael Morgan

Owner, Morgan Design Associates

My heart feels like it’s going to burst from my chest.  How life can turn so quickly.

Malcolm and I bought out one of the largest personal security companies in the Midwest and are looking to move all of my business into that arena, leaving my former less-savory dealings behind.

I’ve made a deal with the Lucci brothers to buy out my other ventures, and that transition will happen over the coming weeks, making me as legit as I’ve ever been in my life.

Raphael Morgan owns one of the top interior design firms in the state and has worked with me and my family on a number of occasions, as well as many others I know over the years.  Tomorrow I will surprise Esme with the offer for her to have a personal internship with Raphael, as well as the chance to enroll in design school if that’s what she chooses.

She already left the DA’s office.  The business with her colleague soured the experience for her, and after some soul-searching, she admitted it didn’t feed her heart—and that’s my number one priority to keep safe and sound.  So together we decided it was best to leave that behind.

I also met with Sal one last time.  We go way back, but he had it coming after what he did to Esme.  So I asked to meet him at our old offices, and after I shook his hand, I then proceeded to deliver a shot to his jaw and a knee to his gut, dropping him to the ground.

I said my piece, then helped him up.

Once he understood he’d come too close to what is mine, there was a flicker of the old Sal in his eyes.

He confessed that ever since his wife and daughter were killed in a car accident two years ago, he’s just not cared.  I told him not to soil their memory by losing his way anymore and left it at that.

I don’t know that we will ever be friends again, but our shit feels settled, and in my heart, I wish him the best.

I also called in some favors and made sure Nadine got what was coming to her, as well.  She’s no longer in the employ of the district attorney, and the IRS is auditing her last three years of tax returns.

I may have walked on the wrong side of the law for a long time, but my connections have connections, and when I need something done, I’m rarely disappointed.

I’m proud as fuck of Esme, though.  The day after all the shit went down, she was back at work and had some choice words for Nadine about kindness and how there is a special hell for women who deliberately hurt other women, especially when they’ve already been knocked down.  She came home that day from work standing taller, and I made sure she knew how special she is.

Getting up from the table, I walk over to the cabinet where I left my cell and pull up Karen’s number.

She’s at work and expecting my call, so I softly close the bedroom door and walk to the far end of the suite as I dial, keeping my voice just above a whisper.

“Hey there,” her chipper voice comes through. “How’d everything go today?”

“Went as hoped.  Her dad is settled and comfortable, and her mom is tired but hopeful.”

“You’re a good man trapped in a goon’s body. You know that?”  She laughs on the other end of the line.

In the last two weeks, Karen’s been to the house a few times and been a wonderful support for Esme, and I’ve come to think of her as part of our new family.  When I wanted to do something special for Esme, she stepped up to help make it happen while we are gone.

“Yep,” I answer.  “So, how are the arrangements coming along? Will it be done by the time we fly home day after tomorrow?”

“Yep.  Things look good.  They have the frame of the house built, and the walls are framed in, as well.”

“Perfect.  Make sure it looks just like the one in the picture I left.”

She laughs.  “I will. I’ll go by a few times a day and harass them until it looks just perfect.”

I hired a specialty building company that makes the finest dollhouses in the world.  I have them constructing one that looks just like our own house in one of the empty rooms upstairs.  They will have it built and ready for Esme to put in all the final decorating touches as she envisions.

“Thank you.  I’m grateful for your help,” I reply.  “Is Hamilton taking care of running you around and to the house?  Did you get the envelope I left for you?”  I want to take care of her in my own way, as well, so I left her ten grand for helping me out.

She pauses, and my heart skips a beat, thinking something may be wrong.  I’m ready to inquire when she finally answers.

“Yes, I did.  Thank you so much. It was beyond generous.  Okay, here’s the thing.  Malcolm has actually been the one driving me, not Hamilton.”

“Oh.”  I bite back my laugh, knowing Karen’s been driving Malcolm crazy ever since the day I sent him to Esme’s apartment and Karen showed up to check on her.  He’s got it bad, but she’s given him a run for his money.

At least up until now.  Sounds like he’s finally got his hooks in.

“Yeah, yeah,” she snaps back.  “Don’t read too much into it.  I just didn’t want to lie about Hamilton and let you hear from Malcolm.”

“Sure, no problem.”  I hear Esme cough from the bedroom and wrap it up.  “Okay, I’ll call you tomorrow after two, so you get some sleep.  Check up on things.”

“Okay.  Signing off from home base.”

We click off, and I make my way to the bedroom, close the door behind me and set my phone on the nightstand, then crawl in next to my baby.

She snuggles right in, throwing an arm across my chest and laying her head on my shoulder.

“I love you, Daddy,” she whispers in her sleep.

“I love you too, babygirl.  You just have no idea how much.”

14

Esme

EIGHT YEARS LATER

I rub my eyes and stare at the computer screen, my vision blurry.  It’s close to midnight, and I’ve been up since five-thirty when Vito Jr. came banging on our bedroom door demanding heart-shaped waffles, which I make nearly every morning for both my boys.

It’s my only contribution for the most part to the cooking around here, so I’m happy to do it whenever requested.

I’ve got a big presentation coming up for a Hamptons mansion just purchased by a freshly married Silicon Valley exec and her husband, who runs a venture capital firm out of New York.  I empathize with them—their long-distance work schedules make my life look a lot simpler.

My eyelids are heavy as I put the final touches on the document I’m finishing.  Then I stretch and yawn, just as Vito comes into the office carrying a cup of hot tea, wearing just his boxers, and even after eight years, the sight of him still makes my belly flutter and my pussy drench.

“Sweet girl.  You need to sleep.”  He leans down and kisses me, handing me the cup of hot liquid.  “Whatever you’re working on isn’t as important as your health.”

“I know, Daddy.”  I still call him that because it's who he is to me, and our dynamic feeds us both in more ways than we could have imagined that first day I said that word to him.  “I just finished.”

I’ve been working so much lately.  I have my own design firm, and it’s grown more than I can keep up with.

Vito’s all but retired.  He still owns the security company with Malcolm, but he’s basically a silent partner at this point.  It’s grown nationwide, and Malcolm still enjoys the day-to-day work, even though he and Karen have four kids of their own now.

We still just have little Vito Jr.  I had a small stroke during my delivery, and both my little man and I almost didn’t make it.  After consulting with specialists and getting the best care in the world, Vito and I decided we would put our all into our one baby and be happy with the family God gave us.

Only along the way we’ve also adopted six dogs, four cats and a pygmy pig, all rescued from shelters, so the house is a lovely, chaotic mess even with Vito here full time, taking care of nearly everything so I can work.

Because I love my work.  I love my family more, but I juggle both, and with Vito’s support, I get to have the best of both worlds and a husband who should win a medal every day for all he does for us.

We got married two months after I moved into his house and I found out I was pregnant.  It was a small ceremony held in a sweet little church in upstate New York, where we could feel safe having my father come with some assistance.  Karen and Malcolm were there, dancing around each other.

Vito wanted to give me whatever kind of wedding I wanted, but I truly just wanted to be married to him, no matter if we had a party or not.  I love wearing his ring and taking his last name, even though as time has gone on, our marriage roles are not that traditional with me working and him staying home for the most part.

It works for us and our family, and that is the core of what is a priority for us both.

I sip the tea, and Vito comes around the back of my chair and starts to rub my shoulders, making me moan.

“You’re so good to me.”

“You’re my Bambina.  I love you,” his deep voice rumbles, and I never tire of hearing those perfect three words.

“Everything ready for Mom and Dad?” I ask.

“Yes.  The guesthouse is cleaned, food is stocked...”

“Thank you.”  I turn my head up to look into his face.  “You’re the best.”

“I know it.”  He smiles down, then leans in and kisses me, his warm tongue swiping on my bottom lip and making me shiver at the thought of the magical things that tongue does to me every day.

Mom and Dad are coming for a visit, as they do every month or so when they aren’t traveling.  Dad has recovered nearly ninety percent of his mobility thanks to some groundbreaking advances and surgery he had soon after Vito set him up with the amazing doctors in New York.

He and Mom travel a lot now.  It was always their dream to fill the map on the kitchen wall at home with pins everywhere they've been, and with Vito’s financial help, their dreams are coming true.

“Come on, baby.  It’s time for bed.”  Vito spins my office chair around, then pulls me up, lifting me like I’m a feather and wrapping me around the front of him.

“Careful,” I protest, holding my mug of tea out.  “We’re both going to be soaking wet if you’re not careful.”

He starts walking toward the office door as my legs grip around his back just above his ass.

“I like you wet.  I like when your wetness makes parts of me wet.  All in all, I like wet.”

We make our way to the bedroom and Vito puts me down, then strips me and motions for me to get on the bed.

“Head down, ass up, little girl.”  His voice thickens, and it immediately has my pussy drenched and ready for what I know is about to come.  “I need. Assume the position.”

I do as he says, crawling up onto our massive bed, my ass high in the air, back arched, face turned sideways on the soft bedding.  Then I reach around and pull myself apart for him.

“That’s my girl.  Showing me all you have to offer me.”

I twist my head and see him drop his boxers, his incredible cock already stiff and standing tall.  His hand drifts down to stroke it slowly as he walks to the bed.

I yelp when the first smack hits my ass just under where my hands are, then another and another until the warmth spreads over my skin and I’m panting with my own sort of need.

“Please, Daddy,” I whimper.

“Yes, baby?”

“Please fuck me.  Fuck my ass, please.”

“Hmmm.  So many wonderful choices.  You know I love all your holes.”  When his mouth hits my soaking pussy, I cum almost immediately, my legs shaking as I fill the room with the sounds of my pleasure.  Vito’s tongue laps at me and sucks my clit until I cum one more time, calling for him and begging for his cock to be inside me somewhere. Anywhere.

“You are a cock-hungry, dirty slut for me, aren’t you, princess?”

I feel the tip sliding up and down through my wetness.  “Yes, Daddy.  Always for you.  Forever for you.”

“Good girl.”

The tip of his cock is at my ass, making me draw a sharp breath as I prepare for its invasion.

“Is this what you need?” Vito asks as the head pushes forward, spreading me.

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Such a naughty girl, tempting Daddy like you do.  Wearing your little dresses around without panties.  Bending over, knowing you’re making me hard all day.  You know I’m going to have to fuck you hard now.  Teasing little girls get what’s coming to them.”

My heartbeat speeds and lust engulfs me.  The tension between my legs grows as his cock slips inside my tight ring of muscle, making me gasp.

Daddy took time training me to take him like this for months before he thought my body would be ready for his thick length, and even all these years later it takes me a few minutes to adjust.  But adjust as I do, there are always those first few minutes of glorious pain.

“It hurts,” I whimper, playing into our fantasy as he rocks back and forth, in and out, giving me an inch at a time.

“I know, princess, but you need to take this for Daddy.  Be a good girl.”

Before long he’s deep inside me, and I’m so full my orgasm is already building long before he really begins to slam into me.  As his tempo increases, my body explodes, and I cum, drenching the bedding beneath us as Vito’s growls rumble from behind me, telling me he’s close.

“God, it feels so good,”  I pant, letting the waves of pleasure ride through me.

“This ass is mine.  This pussy is mine.  Your mouth is mine.  All of you.  Is.  Mine.  You understand that, little girl?  You understand who you are?”

“Yes, Daddy.  I’m yours.  All of me is yours.”

Another sharp smack on my ass blinds me for a moment as he buries his cock as far as he can, his balls slapping low onto my hot pussy and clit, making me cum again immediately.

“You cum for me.  You fuck for me.  You suck my cock when I tell you to.  God, I love you.  I love all of you, baby.”  His voice is tight, and he takes a few more deep strokes before we are both going off together, his hot seed spurting deep into me as his hands come to my shoulders, pulling my body back as tight as possible against his impaling dick.

When we both come down, Vito slips out of me and takes my hand as we make our way to the bathroom, where he turns on the shower.

Cocooned in the steam and warm water, he lathers my hair, and I soap his body.  We lovingly clean each other before drying off and slipping into the cool sheets of the bed with my head on Vito’s chest and his arm wrapped around me, pulling me in tight.

“Sleep now, my princess.  Know Daddy will watch over you.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Good girl.”

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WHAT IF

Chapter 1

Jessie

“IT DOESN’T MATTER ANYMORE.”

A gust of wind whips my hair into my face as I look down the street and hold the phone to my ear.

My damp hair sticks to my cheeks and lips, and I pinch my skin as I try to right the strands that on my best day barely qualify as unruly.  Springtime in Michigan isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

“Yes, it does matter.”  Heather sounds so hopeful and motherly, making me feel more pathetic.  “What if this one is the one?  You write about it in every one of your books.  Finding ‘the one.’  What if this is it?”

The sad thing is, this isn’t the first time Heather’s given me this pep talk.  She’s my best friend and greatest cheerleader, but at times she could stand to rein in her unrealistic optimism when it comes to my unusual number of blind dates.

As the mist in the air slicks the sidewalk and makes my hair look like a mop of miniature blonde corkscrews, I think about all the blind dates through which I’ve suffered.

It’s sad, but after ten or so, I thought maybe I was going for some sort of record, so I started counting.  “This is number twenty-eight!  Twenty-eight, Heather.  That’s a record for the most blind dates for anyone, ever, in the history of blind dates.”  I lean forward, sticking my arm straight out into the street as a flash of yellow turns the corner.

The checkered cab comes to a stop at the curb.  I moved to mid-town Detroit about a year ago from the suburbs, thinking a change of scenery would help shock me out of the rut I’d fallen into.  My apartment is nice—nothing special, but suitable.  My life has been less than suitable before, so suitable works for me.

Heather’s voice only makes me feel more like the last kid picked for dodgeball in gym class.  “Maybe twenty-eight is a lucky number?  You’re young, blonde, you’ve got great tits, you’re financially stable, low-drama, funny, and you sure know how to write dirty.  A pretty good package in my opinion.” She pauses, and I open the door to the cab, tossing my purse on the seat and sliding in as I listen to her go on. “At least you're trying.  Helga’s trying to help, too, and, hey, I haven’t even had a proper date in almost two years.”

“Heather.  First of all, nice that you took note of my tits,”  I snap as I settle into the back of the cab, hold the phone away from my head for a second and give the driver the address that Derek Melrose—a.k.a. number twenty-eight—texted me a half-hour ago.  When he nods and pulls from the curb, I bring the phone back and finish.  “Second of all, you’re married.”

I sigh in exasperation as the cab rolls down the street, and I settle back, thinking for a moment about her description of me.

It wasn’t so many years ago that I was broke, nothing felt funny, and I was lying in a hospital room in a lockdown wing.  Low-drama was certainly not how I would describe that period of my life.

Derek Melrose.  Respectable sounding.  If there’s potential in a name, he’s got potential.

The bar where we’ll meet is called Lucky Charlie’s. It’s downtown, in an area I’m fairly sure isn’t the safest, but in Detroit things are changing all over, so it could be that it’s a little corner that’s on the upswing.

Derek was a set up by none other than Helga Klemkowsky, the owner of the Looney Baker, where I get a donut almost every morning and work part-time since I moved to this part of town.

Helga gave me almost no information on number twenty-eight, and in my professional opinion—because truth is, I think I’m a professional at blind dates by now—less information is better.  I’ve grown to look forward to the surprise; besides, then there are zero expectations.

Because expectations can be the worst part of dates.

Worst part of life, for that matter.

Plus, writing can be a lonely endeavor day in and day out, so working at the bakery has saved my sanity more than once.  Well, that and my therapist, Barbara—and two prescriptions I take every day to keep the train on the tracks, so to speak.

Helga has to be close to eighty, and ever since I told her I didn’t have a boyfriend, she’s made it her mission in life to get me married.  Which is ironic since she has never taken the leap herself and about ten times a day laments the horrors of all things male.  But she honestly wants the best for me, so enter number twenty-eight, a customer she said is perfect for a girl like me.

A girl like me.  Not sure what that means.  This is my third set-up from Helga, and although the other two weren’t horrible, I’m not sure her picker is completely on target.

Through the phone I hear Heather’s giggle and realize I’ve not been listening.  “I know I’m married.  See?  You think it’s all happily-ever-afters?  Not so much, sweetie.”

Heather and her husband have been on a roller coaster for their entire marriage, and I’ve taken to the opinion that some people enjoy that push-pull.

Break up.  Make up.  Break up.  Make up.  Heather has said on more than one occasion that it’s as exhausting as it is exciting.

Her husband, Mitchell, is a criminal defense attorney and works a lot, and quite frankly, Heather is a little needy and could use a hobby.  She’s a stay-at-home wife with a black Amex and too much time on her hands.

But that kind of up-and-down relationship is not for me.  I don’t like to fight.  I want the fairy tale with all the trimmings.  I’m a hopeless romantic; not only do I believe in love at first sight and happily ever after, it’s what I live and breathe every day.

Well, not live it, exactly...I write it.  I’m a romance writer.  I’m all growly alpha males, mad sex, and rides off into the sunset. Easy peasy, right?

Wrong.

I’ve always had the rule, never more than a kiss on a first date.  And never, ever have sex on a first date.

The irony is, on only a handful of occasions has the kiss thing ever been an issue.

I watch out the window as the moisture in the atmosphere covers the glass and the cab takes a corner, pulling out into traffic on Mack Avenue, heading toward Lucky Charlie’s.

In the window, I can see my reflection looking back, and I don’t think I’m bad-looking.  I’m sort of the girl next door from the shoulders up and Mae West from the neck down.  When I hit puberty, my body looked like it had blown up a couple balloons above and below my waist.

“You know that phrase about teachers?” I ask Heather.

“Which one?”

“You know, ‘those that can’t do teach’?  I’m beginning to think that’s me.  I can write about love and lust and sex and romance, I just can’t do it.”

“Come on.  It’s not like you’re a spinster.  You’re only twenty-three.”

“Twenty-three going on seventy-two.  I started knitting, Heather. Knitting.”

“Oh, come on.  Knitting is like the new clubbing.  Okay, look, don’t take this the wrong way...but do you think, deep down, you might be worried about the other things?  Like, if you get close to someone, you’ll have to tell them?”  The seriousness in her voice shifts the tone of the conversation, and I know exactly what she’s talking about.

“No,” I lie, pulling at the hem of my jacket and shifting around in the vinyl seat as the driver talks to someone on his phone about owing him money.

“Because if someone loves you, they’ll understand.  Everyone has a past.”

“Not one that includes a felony. And a...”  I check myself.  I don’t even like to say the word.  “A less-than-positive self-image and outlook on the future at one particularly dark time in my past.”

“You screwed up.  Made some bad choices.  But that’s not you anymore, Jessie.  Don’t carry around baggage that doesn’t matter anymore.  You’ve come so far.  It was a bad time.  A very bad time.  I get that.”

“It could matter.  You get involved with someone, they care about you, you care about them.  Feelings start and then BAM. You’re in too deep to get out alive.”  My choice of words takes me back, and I blow out a long breath as the cab driver tells whoever he’s talking to he has two days in this Marlon Brando voice, and I wonder what exactly he’s going to do if he doesn’t get the money.

Heather interrupts my thoughts about broken kneecaps and waterboarding.  “You need to stop.  You were taken advantage of at a rough time...”  Her voice trails off.

“I know,” I agree, trying to wrap up the subject.  It’s a trip down memory lane I could do without.

That time in my life is done with.  The dodgy boyfriend, the cocaine in my purse...I do not want to even think about it, but every time it’s brought up it’s like I’m right back there.  I made bad choices, I’ll own up to that, but the consequences of those choices were disproportionate to the stupidity on my part.

I fought the charges with the help of funds from my mother and stepfather, but it still ended up with a plea deal and a felony possession with intent to distribute on my record.

Not exactly something you bring up on the first date.

And then, of course, there’s the blow to my already fragile mental state at the time.  I did something else to myself I’d rather forget and never have to recount to anyone.

I’d been battling anxiety and depression since my early teens.  You add to my usual struggle the humiliation of what happened with the arrest, and let’s just say looking back I’m incredibly grateful I wasn’t successful at my attempt to make it all disappear.

I shift in the seat, reminded that I need to cut back on the donuts as the waistband of my skirt digs into my tummy.  The brown velvet blazer I’ve paired with a white tank top is pulling over my triple-D boobs and straining the single button that threatens to pop open at any moment.

It took me a half-hour to find an outfit that still fit me and looked decent but not desperate.  Being a writer, I do a lot of sitting, and you combine that with my other side job of working in a bakery, it’s a sure recipe for an ever-expanding rear end.

“Listen,” I start as I catch a glimpse of myself in the cab’s rearview and take my free hand to my hair, trying to smooth it back.  My hair is full of these whacky little curls.  When people ask me how I get my hair to ‘do that,’ I answer with, ‘I wash it and hope for the best.’

I finish my request to Heather, “Just call me in, like, forty-five minutes, okay?  I need an out just in case.  I can’t endure an entire evening of blind date hell again.  I just can’t.  I feel like if one thing goes wrong, I’m going to lose it.”

“Fine,” Heather answers with a sigh.  “Just try to keep an open mind.  You never know when Prince Charming will arrive.  Your whole ‘What If’ series is based on that very idea.  When you least expect him, expect him.  Isn’t that your tagline?”

Anxiety knots my belly and has a throb starting in my temples.  “Unfortunately, fiction isn’t real life.”

I wrap up the call with Heather and do some deep breathing as the cab winds its way through a rough-looking neighborhood to finally slow and stop outside a seedy street-front bar that looks like it’s seen better days.

“Eight-fifty.”  The driver addresses me with a look into the rear view as I wonder how deeply Helga interviewed this new potential suitor.  Because if the location of our first date is any indication, he’s not raising my expectations.

As I fumble in my purse for my wallet, a voice inside my head says to tell the driver to keep driving.  Instead of heeding what is probably very good advice, I pay the fare and with a deep breath make my way through the wind and mist toward the bar.

As I cross the sidewalk, I look down at my black patent-leather Doc Martens.  I have fourteen pair of the signature boots, and I wonder if maybe my footwear is part of the problem.  Could it be that men simply cannot make peace with a girl who enjoys a good edgy boot?  If I traded my rubber-soled, lace-up habit for some Jimmy Choos, would my life be different?

“What if.  What if...” I mumble as I tug open the door plastered with a selection of beer logo bumper stickers, forcing a slight smile onto my face and shaking my hair back, hoping for the best.

Inside the dark bar, it takes a moment for my eyes to adjust, but immediately my nose is in heaven.  Instead of an assault of stale beer and cheap perfume, it smells like coming home. Only unlike my home—where reservations were my mother’s claim to fame—this is like stepping into the kind of home where the mom spends the day cooking everything that smells like comfort.

I do a quick room scan, and there’s an invisible rope that pulls my gaze to a table where a dark-haired, beast-size guy sits.  My eyes lock onto him, and I swallow hard, and my stomach does this little flip as a rush of instant heat envelopes me.  There’s a steaming cup of coffee in front of him, as well as an empty plate with silverware and a rumpled paper napkin on top.

Why would he have eaten without me?

Rude.

I shuffle a few steps forward, my heart tap-dancing in my chest, and there’s a low hum buzzing in my ears.  The guy hasn’t looked up yet, but the only other patrons I see sit in pairs or groups, so I’m assuming this hunk of man flesh is Derek, even though he said he’d have on a black jacket.  Whatever.  All I can think is...

Score.

As a professional blind-dater, I’ve learned to trust my first impressions.  Never before have I had this sort of sensation.  It doesn’t feel like my feet are touching the floor, and everything around has blurred edges.  There’s a light shining down on him like a heavenly sunbeam through the clouds, and I notice he’s looking down at a book.

He’s reading.

Oh, my god.

He’s reading an actual book.

I squint and see it’s an older, hard-bound copy of The Great Gatsby, one of my favorites of all time, and I’m half in love already.

Maybe Helga has the magic touch after all.

I cover half the distance between the door and his table wishing he would look up and stand or smile or give me a sign he’s my number twenty-eight.  The faded blue jeans and untucked white button-down give him just the right combination of classy and rough.  His dark hair is clean cut and short, and his squared-off jaw line is covered in a short black beard.

Heather’s words and my own tag line start to play over and over in my head.

When you least expect him, expect him.

Here goes nothing.

As I close the space between us, he finally looks up; our eyes meet, and a shock wave pulses through me.

I should introduce myself, but I’m not even sure I remember my own name.

Then, I hear a voice from over my left shoulder.

“Jessie. Jessie Patrick?”

I jerk my head around to see a guy dressed in skinny black trousers and a matching jacket that looks two sizes too small.  His hair has dark black roots, but the tips are highlighted platinum blond.

Suddenly, I feel nothing.

“You’re Jessie, right?  Helga showed me your picture.”  He steps toward me from the back hall, where the buzzing ‘restrooms’ sign flickers above him as I nod in reluctant agreement.  “I’m Derek.  You wanna drink?”

I turn in his direction, tossing a quick glance over my shoulder as a shudder of disappointment replaces the sonic boom I felt a moment ago. I shrug my shoulders then shift my gaze to the floor, trying to retain my bearings.

I let go of my downward gaze to see Derek is standing just in front of me. His eyes are glassy, and his breath holds the scent of more than a few beers laced with other liquor.

Not lucky number twenty-eight, Heather.

I can’t help the one last look where my hopes for something different sit reading F. Scott Fitzgerald, then I turn back toward Derek, who is now looking down at his phone.  The dreamboat at the table is looking at me from over the edge of his book, and green eyes the color of a shamrock cut through my daydreams as I force myself to turn on my heel and head to where the next forty-five minutes of my life will be lost.

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About Dani

Dani Wyatt used to feel bad about having such dirty thoughts. Luckily, one day, she decided to start writing them down. Her ultra-obsessed, alpha heroes have a wicked possessive streak and an insatiable libido. Her heroines are intelligent, quirky, and worry about having too much muffin top. So, if you like your insta-love over the top, super-hot, with a little more plot and always a happily ever after, you’re in the right place.

She’s fighting middle age like a warrior and lives an average life battling gravity. When she's not writing, she is probably laughing about some irony (like the fact that A-1 Steak Sauce is vegan), reading, riding her horse, or looking cross-eyed at some piece of technology sent to ruin her day.

Thank You.

I have so many amazing people I’ve met since I started putting my

naughty thoughts on the page.  To some of the first fans who supported me, the bloggers,

fellow authors who have been more than generous with their

time and opinions, as well as the other professionals that

put up with my particular kind of crazy, thank you.

...you guys remind me every day that when we support each other, everyone wins.

xoxoxo