Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
AMELIA
Derek has been avoiding me.
I wanted to believe that I was the one reading meaning into his cold, withdrawn behavior after the sex at the party. But his clipped responses to my texts, detached tone on calls and his long absence at the bakery and the house made me realize that he was avoiding me.
I didn’t like that.
I knew what we had was complicated, but it was breaking me that Derek didn’t believe in it enough to stick around with me.
I felt used, discarded even.
Maybe he didn’t want me. Maybe I was the one trying so hard.
The thought of it dampened my mood, but the sound of the oven going off brought me back to reality.
I fetched my gloves, taking out the batch of mouthwatering cinnamon rolls. I leave it to cool for a moment before boxing them up alongside the rest of the pastries I’m taking to his place.
It dawned on me that I didn’t even know where he lived. Derek was such a grumpy Owl. He mostly came over to mine or stopped by at the bakery. Our steamy entanglement and push-and-made it easy to forget about some really important details.
I took a gamble and decided to text him instead.
Where do you live?
I pondered if that was too simple to send to him since we hadn’t spoken in days, or was it weird?
My heart skipped when the messages ticked blue.
Why? What are you up to?
I couldn’t help the grin on my face when he responded.
Nothing much. I want to drop off some pastries.
I’m not hungry.
Shame. I don’t care.
I’m busy, Sugarplum. Go away.
I’m not going anywhere, Derek. I want your address.
He left me on read, eliciting a frown from me. I hated to play the daddy’s girl card but I had no choice than to use it.
Would you rather I call my Dad to ask then? I’m sure he wouldn’t mind telling me where you live even though he’d grow suspicious about the questions. I wonder what he’d do when he finds out that his loyal employee has been sleeping with his daughter.
A pang of guilt settled in my chest, but I waved it off. I didn’t want to do that. He pushed me. The text with the address came in shortly after.
I packed up the pastries, and headed over to his place.
My palms were sweaty when I rang the doorbell, waiting for his response.
The door swung open, revealing the impassive expression mounted on his face. My heart skipped, but I managed to flash him a hearty smile.
"Hi,"
He let me in, and my eyes wandered around the impeccably organized monochrome living room. The space spread out before me in tones of white, grey and black, with minimalistic yet luxurious furniture, and abstract paintings lining up the walls.
"You have a beautiful home," I murmured, clutching my basket, "A little plain, but it’s cute,"
My gaze reverted to him, and my breath caught rapidly. He looked devilishly handsome in his casuals; a pair of black sweatpants and tee.
"What are you doing here, Amelia?" his cold, detached voice stung, but I shrugged it off.
I walked towards the kitchen that occupied the same space as the living room. "I told you. I brought pastries for you,"
"You coerced me into giving you my address," he seethed.
"I stated the obvious," I defended myself, "there’s a difference,"
I sighed, frustrated. "Derek, do you have any idea how embarrassing it is that I had to coerce you into giving me your address because I wanted to see you?"
His eyes flashed with something soft, but he quickly tamed it.
"You are like a brick wall. It’s useless talking to you." I gave up unpacking, intending to walk away from him but he blocked my path.
"Where do you think you are going?"
"Home,"
His jaw clenched. "This is your place too,"
"No, it’s not," I snapped, my voice trembling.
"Ame–"
"No!" I glared at him. "You keep pushing me away. You keep shutting me out. You keep pulling away. Every time, I let myself think that, you open up to me, and then, the next minute, you are icing me out. If you don’t want me, you might as well say it to my face, instead of acting like a first class jerk? "
His gaze darkened with frustration. "Do you think this is easy for me?"
"I don’t know anything!"
He grabbed my waist, pressing his forehead to mine, then he dragged out a longing sigh. "I’m trying so hard not to want you, but you make it so difficult."
"I’m scared too," I admitted.
My Dad was overly protective of me. If he knew I was seeing Derek, he’d throw a fit. Also, what I felt for him made me feel a little more vulnerable than I had ever felt in my past relationships. It was raw, passionate, and consuming. Heck, he had consumed me from the moment I laid my eyes on him.
"If he finds out–" he paused, "I don’t know what I’d do if he ever forbade me from seeing you, Amelia."
"We’ll keep it under wraps for as long as we have to," I said softly. "I want you, Derek–so bad,"
He groaned, capturing my lips. "Say that again,"
I panted, aching for more, "I want you, Daddy,"
"I swear, when you call me Daddy, my server overheats." He picked me up swiftly, and I wrapped my legs around him.
His lips against mine were teasing, holding promises of the things he was capable of doing to me. I spent the last few days wanting him, fantasizing about him, and now that he was ruining me with his lips, my system could barely handle the overheating.
My hands found his shirt hastily, pulling and tugging at it until he broke off the kiss, so that I could feel all of him. I dug my nails into his back, whimpering for more as he dropped on the kitchen counter.
"Baby girl, are you made of sugar because I’m crashing just looking at you," he murmured in awe, tilting my face to meet his gaze.
The flirty smirk on his lips made me giggle.
I let him unbutton my dress, mentally prepping myself for his reaction for what was underneath.
"Damn it, Sugarplum," his voice was thick with lust and desire.
The hot pink lingerie cupped my coconuts perfectly, flaunting them in his face. It clung to my body like a second skin, leaving very little to the imagination. I was feeling a little daring, and was really eager to see the reaction on his face when he saw me in it.
"Do you like it?" I whispered seductively.
He buried his face between my perky melons, groaning, "fuck, I love it."
"Did you come here to drop pastries for daddy, or you wanted Daddy to plant his hot dog in your oven?" he showered kisses on my melons.
I moaned, gripping the edge of the counter.
"I want you to use your words, Sugarplum."
"Yes, daddy."
"Good girl."
"I’m going to eat you up," his dark gaze dragged over my frame, sending heat to my blooming, moist special flower. "Literally,"
I didn’t understand what he meant until he took out a few cinnamon rolls.
Derek skillfully pushed down the straps of my lingerie, causing my juicy melons to spill out of their confines. My peaks were hard and aching, begging for his attention.
His lips wrapped around the roll, and when he snatched off a bite, I clasped my legs together tightly. He teased my lips with the half-eaten roll, his dark, seductive gaze urging me to take a bite. I had barely taken a bite when he captured one of my bon bons with his mouth.
I moaned, almost jerking off the counter.
"Derek!"
He tugged at one of my stiff peaks, “Keep eating the roll or I’ll stop,"
My special flower was a blooming, moist mess, dripping so hard with every teasing stroke and lick he left on my buds.
My beef curtains throbbed heavily. My legs trembled, begging for a release.
The taste of the cinnamon roll on my tongue was non-existent because all I could think about was the sweet torture he was inflicting on me.
I moaned, curling my toes.
Derek pulled away, leaving me wet and wanting.
He grabbed one of the cupcakes, smearing the buttercream on my lips. The smear was slow, torturous and stimulating.
When the buttercream glided over my buds, I whimpered in anticipation of his sweet, sinful lips on them.
I wasn’t prepared for how he suddenly grabbed onto my throat, sucking the buttercream off my melons. I was a wild, thrashing mess, letting out a low sob and whimpering at how good it felt to be stimulated that way.
"Oh, fuck," I let out a hoarse, filthy moan. "That feels so good, daddy."
He spanked my melons, making my special flower drip with more moisture.
He left a long, hard kiss on my lips, teasing my dripping twat with his wicked fingers.
"Please, daddy,"
"What do you want?"
"I want to spray you with my wet honey pot. I want you to plug in my port," I murmured against his lips, cupping his hard, throbbing meat that was poking a tent against his pants.
He gathered my hair in his fist, pushing the thong part of the lingerie aside.
He teased my scroll wheel, and I moaned, biting my lips.
My penis fly trap was moist and dripping, making loud, sloppy sounds as Derek’s fingers scissored my sensitive nub.
My moans were uncontrollable. My system was crashing, and I was falling apart in his hands.
But it didn’t stop him from plunging his digits into my opening.
"You always take me so good, like my good little girl."
"I’ll be good for you, daddy," I whimper, crumbling beneath his thrusts, "please, let me cream your fingers, daddy."
"You’ll only come when I tell you to." He left me tethering on the edge, taking out his fingers.
Derek lifted me off the countertop, not minding that I was a mess of cinnamon fillings, sweat and buttercream. His lips caught mine greedily, devouring me relentlessly as he led us to where I presumed to be his room.
My breath came out hot and harsh when Derek slammed my back against the shower cubicle, turning on the shower.
He ripped off my lingerie in one swift move, leaving me naked and needy before him.
"You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,"
My cheeks burned furiously at his compliment.
Our bodies were flushed against each other as the cold water cascaded down our frames in strong rivulets. I cupped Daddy's purple-headed warrior shyly, my trembling hands reaching for his waistband. I stood on my tiptoes, kissing him as I yanked down his briefs and sweatpants all at once.
His meat was hard and throbbing, dripping with pre-cum.
I could never get used to seeing him in his ripped, seductive glory.
I stroked him softly, planting kisses across his jaw.
"Fuck, Amelia,"
His fleshy giggle stick thickened in my grip, making me bite my lips seductively. I gazed up at him beneath my lashes, loving how I was undoing him with my hands. He fisted my hair in his grip, his lips parting in sheer pleasure as his meat popsicle swelled up.
"Damn it—"
"Give me all of it, daddy," my voice sounded deceptively soft, "let me defrag your hard drive."
"You are going to be the death of me." He growled, creaming my palm with his thick, warm frosting.
He panted heavily, backing me up against the cubicle. My chest heaved, need humming through my veins.
I needed him. It scared me.
His lips descended on mine, hot and needy. He was pinning me against the shower cubicle, the water hitting our bodies at all angles as he lifted me against him. He teased my peach muffin with his ramburglar, eliciting a cracking moan from me before he plunged his meat into my oven.
A moan ripped from my throat as I grabbed on to his broad back.
"Yes, daddy—yes!"
"Your port takes me so well, Sugarplum."
"It was made for you," I murmured, urging him to ruin me with his cock.
My fandango was a reflection of how I felt about him. It was strangling his tallywacker greedily as he stretched me beyond my limits. He locked on to a wicked, punishing rhythm when he started thrusting in and out of me.
My melons bounced with each thrust.
His willy thrusted in and out of me, making sloppy, sensual sounds that synced with my throaty moans and his deep groans.
"Derek,"
"Such a good, fucking girl." He slowed his pace, showering hot, wet kisses all over my face and melons.
Then, he slammed back in with full force, wrenching out a loud moan from me.
"Oh—daddy, please, let me come…"
"I want you to beg for it,"
"Please, daddy. Let me crash for you."
He groaned, burying his face into the crook of my neck as he fucked me into oblivion.
My stomach tightened, crushing under the weight of my impending release. He stiffened against me, growling into my neck until our release clashed.
We frosted each other heavily.
I went limp against him, panting heavily. My legs were trembling but he secured me against him protectively.
I cupped his face, kissing him, "no more running,"
"No more running,"