All For You, Daddy

9 - William.

This house feels different with her inside of it.

I've never wanted to be around another person...at all.

Let alone so f*****g badly. She's like a steady heartbeat in the middle of a gale, the purity of it, the reassurance of her, drawing me closer. Closer.

I thought telling her about my past might make her understand why I'm such a bastard—and why I'll continue to be one. But she clammed up when I tried to kiss her. Have I ruined anything that might happen between us? If I could turn back the clock an hour and change my actions, I would. I'd allow the perfect exploration of her mouth on my c**k without turning it into something forceful.

Better yet, I'd go down on her instead.

My d**k is already hard from being close to Grace, but it swells painfully when I think of getting my tongue between her thighs. Now that will be an effective apology. Far better than words. But first, I have another impulse that is entirely unlike me. I want to...be sensitive with this girl. Whatever the hell that means. As she revealed downstairs, she knows nothing about s*x and knowing that, I should have taken more time to introduce her to the needs of the flesh.

"Thank you, Pauline," I say briskly. "You may leave the brownie and go."

My housekeeper does as I ask, setting the plated dessert on a side table next to one of the couches in the center of the library, bustling from the room again without a word. With my hand on the small of Grace's back, I guide her to the couch and sit her down. Then I pick up the plate and take the spot immediately beside her, carving out a bite onto the fork and dipping it in whipped cream.

"Open," I say, holding the chunk of brownie to her lips. "Get the taste of my behavior out of your mouth."

She accepts the bite and chews it slowly, her green eyes turning dreamy over the taste. "You know, you're not entirely at fault. I'm sorry for pretending to drown."

"As I recall, you tried to give me the perfect apology," I say hoarsely, my attention riveted by the sensual movements of Grace's lips and throat. It takes a mighty effort to stop ogling the lower half of her face and serve her another bite.

"Is that a normal way for women to apologize?" she asks.

"I've never been in a relationship long enough to have an argument with a woman, nor have I wanted to. I have no idea." The way she looks up at me with an earnest expression, as if waiting to be taught, has me softening my tone. "No, I wouldn't say it's typical. But when...partners have an argument, I assume that s*x is a way of reconnecting. So it's not out of the question."

She nods, looking thoughtful as she consumes her next bite. "That tracks. My brothers fight with their girlfriends all the time. And then they go into the bedroom for a little while and...and when they walk out, everything is solved."

"I doubt that," I say dryly. "They've just gotten off, Grace."

A line appears on her forehead. "What is getting off?"

This poor angel. She's in desperate need of an education about men and women. This kind of thing requires patience, kindness—and I'm sorely lacking in both of those qualities. I'm the only one here, though. Furthermore, the idea of someone else talking to my angel about f*****g makes my temper flare. I'd kill another man for speaking to her about any of this.

What the hell is happening to me?

Suddenly, I'm tossing the plate aside and pulling her onto my lap, facing her toward me in a straddle, groaning inwardly at the hot pressure of her cunt in my lap.

"Getting off." I unbelt her robe and shove it open, barely hearing her over the sound of my pounding pulse. f**k. f*****g Christ. She is almost obscenely sexy. Untouched. Supple and young and sweet. And I'm achingly aware in this moment that I didn't allow myself to come after she gave me head. My balls are filling to the breaking point, all because of her. What she does to me. "Getting off means s****l relief, Grace. When I put my c**k inside of your p***y, we're going to rub them together. A lot. Sometimes fast, sometimes slow. My c**k is going to push in deep, slide out and go deep again." I brush my thumb up and down on the dampening slit between her legs, my breath turning shallow from having this conversation with her, speaking so frankly about what we're going to do together. "We're both very sensitive in these places, angel. When we create friction here, we're building toward something."

"What?" she breathes, looking down at my thumb in wonder.

"I have seed inside me, baby. I plant it inside you." I push the robe off her shoulders completely, rendering her totally naked, then return my fingers to her spread p***y, finding her clit with the pad of my thumb. "It's going to feel very good when I do that. For both of us. Because I'm going to be stroking this little bud, f*****g you toward an orgasm."

"Orgasm," Grace gasps. "That's another word for getting off?"

"Yes." Slowly, I turn us and lay Grace down on the couch, memorizing the erotic picture she makes, nude and rosy on my library couch, blonde hair fanned out around her head. Stripping off my shirt, I reach for the nearby plate, dipping my finger in the whipped cream and leaving a trail of the white, whipped topping down the center of her breasts and belly. "I can make friction with my tongue, too, angel. And before you ask, I don't know if this is how men apologize." I lick along the whipped cream path, down to her belly button, swirling my tongue in the indentation. "But it's how I'm going to apologize to you."

The scent of innocent p***y has my d**k rigid as f**k in my pants, but for once, I ignore my own needs in the name of someone else's. Because she's... important. To me. Despite my best efforts to avoid this happening. She's getting to me a little more with every passing second, affection crowding up against my jugular, s****l hunger turning me inside out. All of it at once. All for her.

"Spread your legs for me, Grace."

When shyness makes her hesitate, I put firm pressure on her knees until she relents, parting the soft, dewy flesh between her thighs and turning my entire world upside down. I've chased money for as long as I can remember, thinking wealth was the only worthwhile goal for a man. But I was wrong. There is nothing, nothing more worth possessing than Grace's sexy little cunt. Pink, bare except for a little patch of blonde hair, it screams virgin.

It screams tight.

It screams mine.