Daddy's Sweet Ride

2. Jax

2

JAX

Why she made my c**k so hard puzzled me.

Her ample, curvaceous form was one I’d like to get n***d. Full-bosomed. Well-rounded. Zaftig. f*****g delicious. Zaftig, Jax? Really?

The first place I saw her was the produce section, standing in front of the apples. Hugging herself.

It was all I could do not to burst out laughing when I heard her talking to herself in the store.

“I’m luckier than most people. Most people just walk through life, bat s**t crazy, spewing their insanity all over the place and never deal with their neurosis.”

She walked away, and I was on her like a tick on a dog and followed her to the bulk bins.

Adorable. Adorable and afraid. I could sense it. Why?

Had someone hurt her? My Dom instinct kicked in, and rage flared up out of nowhere.

I would protect her from further hurt. No matter what it took.

She had an a*s made for swatting. That was the first unbidden thought which came to mind after she pushed her cart away from me.

What was she running from? I asked myself.

It almost seemed like she was afraid of me. Granted, I was definitely a big guy, and I knew my size could be intimidating. But I would never hurt a little girl like her.

Unless it was to discipline her, and in that case, a little pain was just part of the foreplay. Revving the engine so to speak.

My c**k pushed against my zipper at the thought of her lying across my lap.

Her sweet a*s was a fine sight to behold as she skittered past the bulk bins around the corner. It felt like I was seven years old, and somebody just yanked the last chocolate chip cookie out of my hands. I wanted it back. I could taste it. I wanted to taste her.

“God, I really needed to get laid.” I said aloud, realizing it could come off as demented if anyone overheard. A sign my period of prolonged celibacy was truly getting to me.

At age 35, I was old enough to know myself. I was a Daddy Dom through and through, a relationship not to be entered into lightly.

Tell it to my bloated d**k. Down, boy.

This was the first time in a long time the very sight of a girl kicked off my instinctual urge to not only protect her, but also push her against the wall and kiss her. Pull her hair. Caress her cheek and bite her lip.

I swear I could still smell her. Vanilla and orange. My little Creamsicle. To lick. “Get a grip buddy,” I muttered.

Quickly, I shoved a clean, generous selection of the different colored squishy candies in a bag.

She couldn’t be hard to find. I’d be prepared for the next time I saw her, for I knew there would be a next time. It was a small town, after all. I would find her.

This town was so small, I could practically sniff her out. Her Creamsicle scent.

I couldn’t wait to lick her. But l**t would have to wait until somehow her fears were dispensed with. It could have been me she was afraid of.

Captain Obvious. I was a big, intimidating guy. Clearly, I made her nervous. Hell, she made me nervous.

How long had it been since I wanted anything other than a wham bam out of a woman? Not since Jennifer. Three years ago.

Getting close meant getting hurt. You couldn’t protect them all of the time. When was I going to learn?

The whiskey I’d been nursing for the past half hour in The Saloon numbed the dull throbbing in my knee.

I felt restless all day and attempted to ease my edginess by throwing myself into the renovation of a Porsche 550 Spyder. It was hard physical work and my old football injury was protesting the a***e.

I didn’t need to do the restoration work myself anymore. But I wanted to.

Landing a football scholarship to UCLA from this small town was a dream come true. It was a dream I thought would launch me to the pros until my junior year, when the dream was over.

As a running back on the team, I was a prime target for slide tackles. During the last game that year, one tackle hit hard and ruptured my ACL. I was out for the season. Reconstruction surgery fixed the tear to my knee, but the rehab was lengthy enough for me to lose my sports scholarship.

I was lucky since the career counselor at UCLA worked with me to help me identify an alternative path. My love of cars, combined with a business degree, allowed me to return home and open up my shop.

So, yeah, one crushed dream, crushed right along with my knee during that fateful game, had led to another, which gave me a good life indeed. I had five full-time employees and turned a substantial business after earning a reputation as one of the best auto body shops in Northern California.

Before the blonde on my right could make another strategic move, for that’s exactly what it was, a calculated strategy, the door of The Saloon opened, and my little girl walked through the door, nearly knocking me off my bar stool.

She stopped in her tracks, and her mouth dropped open. I saw her look from side to side, plotting her escape. Only she clearly had business inside the bar and reluctantly stayed put.

Blondie accused, “What are you doing here, Chloe? Always walking in where you aren’t welcome,” she snarled.

“What do you mean, Roxy? We agreed to meet here and talk.”

I felt proud to hear my baby girl stand up to rudeness.

“I don’t want to interrupt your meeting,” I said. “I was just about to head home anyway. Here, the two of you can talk privately.” I gestured for Chloe to take my place.

“You don’t need to leave, handsome.” Roxy slid her left hand up my bicep, an overtly obvious demonstration of territory. Except she wasn’t the one I was interested in.

“I insist. Obviously, you two had plans, and it would be rude of me to butt in.”

I stood up and looked at Chloe; the name suited her perfectly. Sweet and squeezable. Soft and sexy at the same time.

“It was good to see you again, Chloe.” I stared into her eyes to see if she would look away, and she held fast to my gaze. It could’ve been wishful thinking, but I thought I saw her chest rising and falling at a faster pace.

Mine.

My internal Daddy Dom laid down the law. I wanted her in my mouth but tried to think of something socially appropriate to say instead.

“I hope we’ll be seeing each other again soon.” I exited the bar, leaving the two of them to chat and went out to my 1967 Pontiac GTO named Cash.

I fetched the sampling of gummies stashed in my trunk, tying the bag shut with a single knot after placing my business card inside. On it my phone number and a note.

“I’m captivated by you, Chloe. Please text tonight if you can. I’ll be up late and would love to talk to you about taking you out to lunch and going for a hike. I promise to keep you safe—Jax.”

I didn’t know whether this approach would be effective, but I was pretty certain an overt come on would scare her off. No matter how much I had been thinking all day about playing with her hair while she sucked my c**k, I needed to make it clear I was more than just a s****l beast. She fascinated me.

I trotted back to the bar, ignoring my knee twinges, and went inside. The two women had moved to a booth. Chloe sat facing the door. Her eyes grew wide as she saw me walk in and head toward her table. I quickly approached her and set the lavish sampling of gummies in front of her. She put a hand over her mouth to cover her smile, and my chest tightened with pleasure.

“I think you forgot those at the store. Don’t worry, those aren’t the ones off the floor,” I winked. “Please read my note and think it over. I’m Jax, by the way.” I walked out before she responded and couldn’t imagine how I would survive waiting for her to text.