All For You, Daddy

6 -William.

"Grace," I shout, already stripping off my shirt. Shoes are kicked off and I'm diving into the water, fear icing my veins. Adrenaline propels me toward her. I don't hesitate to wrap an arm around her middle and kick for the surface, already anticipating mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.

Why didn't I ask her if she could swim? I did this, by trying to drive home how irredeemable I am. She had to jump into the f*****g water just to get away from me.

We reach the edge of the pool and I place her carefully on the side, climbing out after her, kneeling down on the cold stone, dizzy with worry. "Dammit, Grace." With unsteady hands, I tilt her head back, getting ready to blow breath into her lungs. "I'm sorry. Don't do this to me."

She peeks one eye open and smiles, whispering so low I almost can't hear her over the pounding of my pulse. "Uh oh." Pool water rolls down her temples. "Caught you being a good man again."

Shock sweeps me. Followed by relief like I've never known.

Then, there's respect I reserve for a worthy adversary.

And lastly, it's anger.

How dare she expose me like this? I don't even know what she's going to find if she peels back another layer and that absolutely cannot be allowed to happen. It's time to push her away once and for all. I can't risk another second of her expecting me to be good. To be the kind of man who saves people—or even gives a s**t. When a man cares about someone, it's only a matter of time before that person deserts him. Before the business of feelings blows up in his face.

"I'm not a good man. You want to find that out the hard way? Fine by me," I say stiffly, standing up and reaching down to fist a large section of her blonde hair, pulling her, gasping, up onto her knees, then to her feet. Guiding her without gentleness toward a row of lounge chairs and pushing her down into a seated position at the end of one, refusing to acknowledge the voice in the back of my head, telling me to stop. That I will regret what I'm about to do. "Open your brat mouth for my c**k," I say hoarsely, unzipping my pants. "Mommy didn't tell you about s*x? You're about to get an education."

Despite my harsh orders, I'm surprised to find her watching me pull down my zipper with eager eyes, her tongue gliding along her bottom lip to wet it quickly. Is she...excited? What is it going to take to make this girl despise me? I brought her here, confident I could seduce her with my wealth, spend the night f*****g her and part ways in the morning without getting tangled up. Why won't she cooperate?

I take out my d**k, raking it side to side over her lush mouth, then push the stiff flesh between her lips, not giving her a chance to brace herself or breathe. My groan echoes off the walls of the pool room, my fingers burrowing into her wet hair. The picture she makes, innocent eyes on me, mouth stretching around my shaft, almost undoes me completely. So much so that I have to concentrate on not filling her mouth with spend before I've gotten more than halfway in.

"This would have been a hard conversation to have with Mommy, huh?" I hold her head steady and sink deeper, my balls already beginning to tingle. "This is what men think about when they look at you. The postman, your grandfatherly neighbor. They smile and make small talk with you, but they all just want it sucked."

Unbelievably, I watch her hands travel up her bare thighs, toward the drenched thong that is now second skin on her p***y, leaving zero to the imagination. Her fingertips brush back and forth on her inner thighs, her mouth beginning to take me in earnest, her lips testing me, sliding up and down, a feminine moan building in her throat.

Her hands find her t**s next, watching me through her eyelashes while she rolls her distended n*****s in her palms, her chest beginning to heave.

"Oh s**t," I mutter thickly, devouring the sight. "Oh my God."

I'm barely conscious of thrusting into her sexy mouth, faster, faster, f*****g between her plump lips, the pleasure so enormous my spine twists top to bottom, making my vision go double. Oh f**k. What is happening? I meant to punish her with this blow job. Take what I needed, selfishly, the way I do everything else.

Instead, we're in it together.

Working feverishly toward pleasure. Mine, mainly, since I'm hammering at her hot little mouth and she's taking most of me, bobbing her head in this incredible rhythm we've designed without saying a word.

With her knowing eyes on me, I'm stripped bare, vulnerable. There is nothing to protect me from what this girl makes me feel—and I lash out. Goddamn me, I can't help but ruin the perfect moment out of sheer self-preservation.

Fisting her hair roughly, I push deeper than I think she can stand. "If you're not choking, little girl, you're doing it wrong."

Grace coughs around my d**k, her eyes tearing, but I get no pleasure out of it. In fact, in the moment, I hate myself more than I hate the world.

Shame is like a manacle around my neck as I pull out, stumbling away from her expression of dismay. Betrayal. I zip and button my rampant erection back into my dress pants. I can think of nothing to say. Everything sounds wrong on my tongue, no apology that would be good enough. I all but forced this innocent girl to give me pleasure and she was kind-hearted enough to forgive me, to participate and enjoy it, even though she's innocent of men.

God.

My family was right to leave me on the side of the road and never come back.

Swiping a hand across my sweaty lip, I stride from the room before I can do something completely self-destructive like hold her, kiss her, ask her to teach me how to be good. Such a thing is impossible.