Total pages in book: 20
Estimated words: 19169 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 96(@200wpm)___ 77(@250wpm)___ 64(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 19169 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 96(@200wpm)___ 77(@250wpm)___ 64(@300wpm)
She pushes her plate of macaroni away and folds her hands on the table. “Was it all a lie?”
“No. Hell, most of the stuff I told you about me is true. And as for the rest, well... I’m still obsessed with you. I still want you. I think about you all the time.” I take a deep breath and prepare to serve up my heart on a platter. “I love you, April. If you believe nothing else, believe that.”
April goes quiet longer than I can hold my breath. Finally, she stands up. My heart is pounding by the time she makes it around to my side of the table.
She takes my big, calloused hand between her soft palms.
“Then love me, Daddy.”
seven
April
I wanted it to be him.
This whole time, I wanted it to be Jonathan watching me, and somehow a part of me always knew.
I should feel outraged and disgusted that he would invade my privacy the way Eloise did. But I just can’t be any of those things toward him. I’ve liked Jonathan since day one, and I’ve been falling for him since he appeared to me as ElectricJay20. He may have lied about some things, but I believe Jay was one-hundred percent Jonathan.
And if Jonathan is Jay, and Jay is Daddy, that means Jonathan is Daddy, too.
He stares at our joined hands like he can’t believe I’m real.
“How do you not hate me right now?” he asks, incredulous.
“I could never hate you. I can’t promise I won’t be upset later, after I’ve had time to process everything that just happened. But right now, I just want to be close to you.”
He opens his arms to me. “Come here, baby girl.”
There’s enough room between his body and the table for me to perch on one of his thighs. As his arms go around me, I feel my muscles start to relax. Today was possibly one of the worst days of my life. But also one of the best days, because for once, someone was on my side.
Jonathan stood up for me, unlike my own father, and he didn’t stop there. He called my dad out on his complacency and defended me against Eloise. I can’t even begin to comprehend my stepmom’s reasoning for watching my livestream.
The thought of it makes me physically ill.
So instead of thinking about it, I turn my focus back to Jonathan. To the clean, piney scent of his soap and the softness of his flannel shirt against my cheek. He rubs my back rhythmically, up and down, lulling me into a state of aroused calm—calm because he’s so big and comforting, and aroused because I’m pretty sure the hard lump beneath my thigh is his cock.
“I’ve wanted you to hold me like this since I moved in,” I tell him.
He cradles the side of my face.
“I’ve wanted to hold you from the moment we met.”
I stand between his legs, putting my face a few inches above his. Resting my hands on his shoulders, I lean in close, letting my lips brush over his lips, but just barely. He takes the bait, pulling me against his chest and pressing his lips to mine. His facial hair tickles the skin around my mouth, but I don’t mind.
He deepens the kiss, teasing his tongue between my lips so he can taste me. I open for him, gasping as his hands slide down and squeeze my ass.
“Daddy...” I whisper into his mouth. The word seems to bolster him, making his hands bold. They’re all over my backside, the small of my back, my hips, and thighs.
Desire pools between my legs. I want to be his little girl for real tonight. Not just in my head,
“Can we go to bed?” I ask.
His muscles tense. “You mean...upstairs?”
I nod. “I want you to tuck me in.”
Jonathan eases me back a step so he can stand up. He takes my hand, and we go upstairs to my bedroom. The bed is made. I’ve already packed away the lights, camera, and tripod, just in case my parents requested a tour.
I don’t know why, but for some reason being in there with Jonathan has me feeling shy. Maybe because I’m so used to being in here alone, even when I’m performing for others.
“Arms up, baby girl,” he says. Being told what to do definitely helps.
I lift my arms overhead so he can pull my sweater off. My pulse sprints as he works my jeans down my legs. He’s watched me read erotica in my underwear many times, yet he’s surveying my body as though it were shiny and new.
“I knew it was you,” I tell him. “I don’t know how I knew, but whenever I tried to imagine Jay, I just saw you.”
“Maybe I’m just really bad at pretending to be someone else.”
“Were you pretending to be someone else? Or were you being more yourself?”