Chapter 4
four
Jason
At thirty-six, I should be making better choices.
Instead, I’m inviting this half-dressed college freshman into my bedroom.
It’s none of my business what she wears to this party tonight, but goddammit…
I don’t even really want her to go in the first place.
Which is fucking absurd. She’s in school, just like Emma.
The social aspect of college is part of the experience.
Sure, I never had that experience myself, because I had to work two jobs after fathering a baby so young.
But I want those good times for Emma.
The idea of Shea at a party, though? With her big, innocent eyes and lethal body?
Nah, I don’t like it. In fact, I’m feeling downright territorial of this girl I only met tonight, wanting to cover her up in my clothes. Send her out smelling like me. Looking like she’s got a man. That’s why I’m looking for the most obviously male-owned sweatshirt in my closet.
“Come in here,” I say, with a little more force than intended.
Her eyelids seem to grow heavy in response, her body swaying slightly.
“Yes, sir,” she whispers, padding in my direction, her bare feet sinking into my area rug.
I can hear my daughter talking a million miles an hour on the phone down the hallway, but the odd pound of my heart nearly drowns her out, because wow.
I can’t pretend I haven’t noticed something.
Shea likes being told what to do.
Told when to eat.
When to enter the room.
She reacts like a flower being watered.
Yes, sir.
She stops in front of me, both of us in the shadow my closet door.
Her head is tilted back on account of our height difference of more than a goddamn foot.
If this was a fantasy and not real life, I’d lean down and kiss her now.
What would it be like to kiss such a young woman?
The kissing I did at her age has been blurred by the passage of time, so I have no idea how her mouth would feel.
Fresh and inexperienced, whispers the destructive part of my brain. Eager.
This is real life, not a fantasy. I will not kiss her.
But lord, I can’t help wanting to get a better look. At all of her.
Maybe just the slightest touch of that supple skin.
“There’s a folded gray sweatshirt on the top shelf,” I say, my voice gravelly with the weight of my growing arousal. “Reach up and get it.”
Again, I notice how she flushes happily at being told what to do.
“Okay.” Biting her sexy bottom lip, she presses onto her tip toes and strains to reach the high shelf, even jumping a couple of times in an attempt to retrieve the sweatshirt, her tits bouncing and jiggling in that flimsy tank top.
It’s a miracle that I don’t unload come down the leg of my sweatpants watching her whine in frustration, jumping and reaching to no avail.
“Do you want a boost?” I ask, finally, sidestepping to tower over her from behind.
“Yes, please,” she whispers.
I know I’m about to cross the line of propriety, but for the life of me, I can’t stop my greedy hands from settling on her trim waist, squeezing. Running my palms down to her hips and dragging them back up beneath the hem of her tank top.
Son of a bitch, I’ve never touched anything or anyone so soft in my life.
Sweet, soft and warm.
Bearing down with my molars, I lift Shea several inches off the ground, her half-startled, half-delighted gasp tightening every muscle south of my navel.
She giggles, kicking her dangling feet, and my cock lifts to full mast. Oh, fuck.
The fact that I haven’t jacked off in a couple of days is painfully obvious, my balls reminding me of that fact with hungry throbs.
Looking down, her tight, round ass is even with my lap right now and I just want to rub her there.
Rub those sexy, young buns against my straining dick until the ache goes away.
Crazy as it is, she’d let me, I think.
Yeah. She came onto me earlier, didn’t she?
Now, she’s in my bedroom, blushing at my commands.
Giggling when I touch her.
This is simultaneously a dream come true and a nightmare.
“Grab the sweatshirt, angel,” I rasp.
“Oh yeah, I f-forgot,” she stammers, finally reaching up and pulling down the gray, folded sweatshirt with my company logo on the front.
Reluctantly, I set her down, but I’m breathing hard now, my mouth pressed to the crown of her head, my hands tracing around from her waist to her stomach, the fingertips of my right-hand edging downward.
Down a little more. Stopping just above her mound, by some feat of willpower.
“Put on the sweatshirt and keep it the hell on. For the entire night.”
A shiver passes through her petite frame. “Call me angel again and I’ll obey.”
My eyes slide closed, my mouth forming a vile curse.
Bad. This is very bad.
“Angel,” I say, damning myself. Damning myself further by stepping closer. Closer. Until my chest presses to her back and she whimpers, sagging against me. “You like to obey, don’t you?”
Her sides heave in and out, like there’s a dam breaking inside of her. “I think so.” She tilts her head back and looks up at me, her golden eyes wide and luminous. “I’ve never had anyone to obey before.”
My pulse is flying.
What the fuck is this?
I’m a dominant man. A man who spends his life being in charge.
Of hundreds of employees. Money. Jobs. But that dominance has never extended to a member of the opposite sex.
Not like this. A…power exchange? There’s something being roused inside of me, though.
A need I didn’t know was there. Or maybe it wasn’t there until tonight.
Until her.
“We can’t do this,” I say hoarsely. “You’re Emma’s friend. You’re a college fucking freshman, Shea. I’m old enough to be your father.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t expect this, either.”
Despite the insanity of what I’m doing, I draw her further into my embrace, unable to help it, my mouth moving in her wealth of honey blonde hair.
“I’m not blaming you, angel. But I’m the one who is old enough to know better, so I have to put a stop to this.
This would be a lot easier if you weren’t so fucking beautiful.
” My palms skim side to side on her hips, working them in a knead.
Drawing her butt back into my lap and listening to her breath stutter over the outline of my cock, now pressed to her pert cheeks.
“You just need someone to take charge of you, don’t you? ”
A sob wrenches out of her. “Yes.”
I’m thisclose to damned.
So very close.
I would do anything to scoop her little pussy into my hand right now and show her how a real man handles such a priceless treasure.
That would be the point of no return, though.
I wouldn’t stop until I was inside of her.
“I cannot give you everything you need, Shea. I cannot have a physical relationship with you. But…” Even what I’m about to say is taking this madness way too far.
I’m too attuned to her need for authority to deny it outright, though.
“Keep your sweet pussy hidden,” I say harshly in her ear.
“All night. The sweatshirt stays on until you walk back through my front door later. Is that understood?”
It's like she’d been given a cool drink of water after a long hike. She drinks in my directive, like she’s been parched waiting for orders all her life. “Yes, sir.”
That breathy response is too satisfying. A balm over a scrape. Because I can tell she means it. She…needs to obey. She’s eager to do what she’s told.
How was I chosen for this…honor? This honor that would ruin us both?
In the other room, Emma’s voice cuts out. She’s done with her phone call.
Guilt mixes with my hunger for the girl in front of me.
What kind of a father would I be if I acted on these impulses?
I can’t find out. Somehow, I manage to release Shea’s backside from its position against my lap, missing those taut curves immediately.
I want them back now. “How the hell am I going to stay away?”
She blinks back at me over her shoulder, golden eyes bright as they sweep down the front of my body, before returning to my face. “I was just wondering the same thing about me.”