All For You, Daddy

12 - William.

There is something happening inside my chest. It's a thawing sensation. The cold is melting away—and it happens a little more every time I look at Grace.

I guide her up the steps into my jet, glaring at the man fueling the plane for staring at her legs a second too long. Possessiveness sinks into me like f*****g claws and I almost second-guess my decision to take her outside of my home. Maybe I should confine her to my bedroom for at least a month until she's used to being mine and mine alone. Until she is so addicted to my c**k that she gets wet every time she hears my footsteps approaching.

Those would be the actions of a bad man, though.

I am a bad man. But somewhere in the middle of the night, while watching her sleep so peacefully, I didn't want to be one anymore.

At least, not to Grace. f**k everyone else.

She stumbles to a stop in front of me, twisting the hem of her dress in her hands. I come up beside her and look over, finding her mouth in an O shape. "Are we the only ones who are going to be flying on this? It could fit thirty people."

I raise an eyebrow at her. "Based on what you know about me, do you think I could stand being in a confined space with thirty people for six hours?"

"You never know," she says, leaning down to run her fingertip along the cushy, gray-leather bench seating. "Maybe if you talked to people, you'd realize they're not all terrible."

"Not interested." I notice her shoulders sink slightly at my response and I don't like it. "This is important to you? That I try to...endure people?"

"I was just thinking of...my family." Her green eyes peek up at me through her eyelashes. "If I'm going to spend every night in your bed—"

"You are, Grace," I say tightly, my pulse quickening. "There's no if about it."

"Okay, so...if I'm to live with you—"

"What did I just say about if?" I growl.

"Holy moly, you're touchy. Fine. When I live with you, don't you think you'll have to meet my family at some point?"

Honestly? I hadn't thought about that. In my world, money organizes things the way I want them. If I want a quiet, empty plane, it's done. If I want space and solitude, it's arranged. A tenant removed when they can't pay what they contractually owe me? They're gone. Now I want Grace all to myself, but relationships don't operate under the same principles as the rest of my life. She's a living, breathing human being who loves her family. If I want her to be happy...

Maybe I have to accept that there are two sets of desires here.

Not just one anymore.

God, these feelings are a pain in the ass.

My withering sigh makes her smile—and I change my mind. The feelings I have for Grace aren't a pain. They make me feel like I'm coming back to life after living for years in a dark, underground coffin. "I suppose I'll be seeing them on occasion, yes." I grimace. "As long as they don't annoy me."

"I'm sure they will," Grace says, but her smile is huge.

It takes me a moment to realize I'm smiling back. "Who do you think you are, little girl?" I say, invading her personal space and scooping her up, groaning inwardly at the way her legs automatically wrap around my waist. "You think you can just show up and rearrange my meticulously organized life. Is that it?"

She gasps with mock outrage. "I'm the one being kidnapped to Paris."

"Kidnapped?" I snort, laying her down on the bench seat and settling myself between her thighs. "Yes, I'm sure you're going to hate the penthouse overlooking the Eiffel Tower and the all-new wardrobe that awaits you there. I'm sure you'll suffer through all the desserts I plan to spoon feed you in between..." I lean down and breathe into her ear, rocking my hips forward. "Round after round of the orgasms I plan to provide."

Her eyes take on a glassy quality, her voice breathless. "I'll try to keep my complaining to a minimum..." A beat passes. "Daddy."

My c**k was already rigid, but it pulses eagerly at that title. One I never expected. One that only applies to this unique relationship with Grace, which has a life of its own. "Talk to me, angel," I say, kissing her pouty mouth. "When you call me that, tell me what it means to you."

Beneath us, the jet engine rumbles louder and the aircraft begins to taxi. "It means...you're in charge. But...at the same time..."

"I'm wrapped around your little finger?"

A moan slips out of her mouth. "Yes. The idea of that makes me feel..." She wets her lips, her back arching slightly. "Sexy. Protected."

"You are," I rasp, raking my mouth down to her throat, licking my territory, razing her sensitive skin with my teeth. "What else does it mean to you?" I ask, starting to unbutton the front of her dress with my left hand.

Her t**s heave up and down. "It means you'll hold me when I'm scared. L-like right now."

My world crashes and burns. "You're scared?" Jesus, it's like my blood has been replaced with acid. Her fear is unacceptable. Torturous. "Why, Grace?"

"I've never flown on a plane before," she whispers unevenly, her fingers digging into my back. "I didn't think I was going to be scared, but now that the plane is moving, all I can think about is how high we're going to be."