Cole
Goddamn. I could die a happy man just hearing Sabrina’s sweet voice calling me daddy.
It’s not a kink I’ve ever entertained. Maybe in some dark cobwebbed corner of my mind, I suspected, but I needed the right woman to make me see the light.
I was waiting for Sabrina. Hearing it out loud sealed the deal.
I’ll be her daddy.
She looks so fucking good with her cheeks flushed pink, and my hand wrapped around her neck. Those black lips are pouting, and I’d love nothing more than to put that mouth to work. A little punishment for disrespecting herself.
I’ll take good care of my precious girl. She needs someone like me. A man to praise her, and when necessary, punish her.
Just the thought of her ass turning pink while she’s bent over my lap taking her punishment makes all my blood rush south.
A car honks nearby, reminding me that we’re still in town, and I’m about to get carried away again.
“Have you been to the Fall Festival yet?” I ask her as my thumb strokes her throat. I’m not ready to let her go yet. Not ready to let the world back in.
“Not this year.”
“I’m going to take you tomorrow.”
“Okay,” she replies, her voice wispy and faint.
“The day after that we’re going to find you a wedding dress. Something black and lacy.”
“Okay,” she sighs.
“And then on Friday we’re going to get married.”
“Hm,” she hums.
What a fucking brat.
“Sabrina.”
“Yes, Daddy?”
“Don’t you want to be good for me?”
Silence. Oh, so we’re going to play that game.
Leaning forward I let my forehead rest against the brick wall at her back so that I can whisper into her ear.
“I’m not going to fuck you until you’re wearing my ring on your finger and signing my last name.”
Her chest freezes against mine as her breath catches. Good. I have her attention.
“In fact, sweet Sabrina. I’m not going to let you come until a judge pronounces us husband and wife. Not on my cock. Not on my fingers. Not on my tongue.”
I pull away, letting her see from my expression that I’m serious.
“How’s that for hm?” I ask.
Her jaw drops in outrage but I’m already shifting away before she can swat at me. I laugh as she chases me out of the alley. Shawn and Gloria are nowhere to be seen and that’s fine by me.
I meant what I said to my girl. Shawn’s a good guy. I met him and his wife at the last firehouse fundraiser, and I worked with him as a volunteer firefighter during wildfire season this summer.
He’ll keep his mouth shut, but if he doesn’t, I’ll break his jaw. Good guy or not, if he hurts my girl, I’ll even the score.
“Cole,” Sabrina growls when she catches up to me. “You didn’t mean that right? I mean you’re not really going to make me wait until Friday. Right?”
Her arms loop around my bicep, physically leashing me to her side, and I don’t mind at all.
Let my girl stake her claim for the entire town to see.
Already a dozen people have seen us at the coffee shop and walking down Main.
The marriage license we’ll sign Friday is a formality.
Our marriage is already Crescent Ridge official.
“Cole?” she asks, and I can feel her blue eyes burning a hole into the side of my face as we walk down the street.
We pass a group of tourists peering into the front window display of Sugar Crossing, eyeing all the pastries the little bakery has to offer. Sabrina waits until they’re out of earshot before she rattles my arm.
“Cole. You are not making me wait.”
I don’t answer her until we’re at the front door of her bookshop.
“I had a lovely time today, Sabrina.”
“Cole,” she growls.
She glares at me as I plant a chaste kiss on her cheek. Good. We’ll let this be a lesson.
“Better luck tomorrow, pretty girl,” I say with a grin.
She doesn’t say goodbye, just turns on her heel and unlocks her door.
I wait until she disappears through the door marked employees only in the back.
Like most of the older buildings in Crescent Ridge, there’s a small apartment above the shop floor and that’s where Sabrina lives.
Her commute is amazing, but I don’t have to be in construction to know that her apartment is tiny.
Just big enough for one curvaceous witchy woman, one burly meathead, and maybe a puppy.