Dietrich #2
“This is my other daughter, Hannah,” Denny cock-blocks my fantasy, introducing her as though this angel is a disappointment, then adds, “Where’s Brigid?”
He shoulders her aside to look up the stairway and fire explodes in my chest.
I want to break every bone in his fucking body for disrespecting her.
“She’s in the shower,” the angel says as a halo forms around her. Her irritation is clear in the set of her jaw and the tension on her forehead. “I saw the limo pull up. Brigid said she’ll be down in five.”
My dick throbs as she hits me with a challenging look, but my focus is on that barely legal little baby maker between her legs.
“She’s perfect,” I grunt as my airway constricts and my balls spasm.
The apples of her cheeks turn hot pink and years of reading people as bait come into purposeful use.
Her eyes dilate.
Her breathing becomes faster and shallower.
A flush covers her chest. Her nipples perk up.
Her fingers extend and clench as her lips fall open, eyes wide, swallowing.
I can smell her fucking innocence and I want to rip through it with a depraved hard hate-fuck for making me feel this way. This is a job. I have to focus.
I extend my hand, holding out the file. “This is the information for my ‘daughter’.”
She shakes her head. “Oh, no. I’m Hannah. You want my twin-sister, Brigid—”
“I want you,” I cut her off and she falls silent, her mouth frozen in a sexy as fuck little ‘o’ shape.
I take a second and think of all the filthy things I want to do with those lips but I also catch the ‘twin’ thing and for a second I wonder if it was her or her twin that I saw at the shelter.
My dick says it’s her but in this new world of Dietrich ‘Daddy’ Belotti, I’m doubting myself.
“Hannah,” her father hisses, teeth clenched with a flash of anger in his desperate eyes.
I’d forgotten anyone else was in the fucking room but now I’m back to wanting to stuff his head up his ass for talking to her at all, let alone like she’s done something wrong.
“If Mr. Hawk... wants you instead, that’s fine.
Either of the girls would be happy to take the job. ”
I want to throw him out the front window for treating her like her opinion is irrelevant. But I also want this girl, and he’s willing to give her to me. That’s good, because she’s coming with me tomorrow one way or the other.
I wonder what I’d do with her if her fucking father and that Guido in training Greg weren’t here?
I’d have her stripped down, grabbing her ankles, her plump ass turned up while I spit on her tight little hole then slide in there deep while she gives me those innocent doe eyes, telling me how much it hurts.
Ouch, Daddy, it’s too much. I don’t think I can do it…
Take what I give you. You’ll learn to like it soon enough, little girl. It’s your job to take care of your Daddy no matter how much it hurts.
“I want you,” I repeat, and notice the way her nipples have finished hardening into points through that word ‘Nope’ on the front of her tank top. “You,” I repeat and her eyes light up like it’s fucking Christmas.
She’s all wholesome and factory original. Hard to find here in Vegas. You can get fucking Botox at the corner liquor store and implants are buy one get one free all over town.
But, not her. She’s got sweet as pie cherry cheeks and million-dollar cotton-candy lips.
She’s half teenager still and my dirty old man rises up to take control.
I’ll play her daddy. Driving her teasing ass to school with her panties full of Daddy’s sticky seed, then wait behind the building for any pubescent dick that took a two second look at what’s mine and leave them in a pool of their own blood and saliva.
Yeah, she’s too young for me. So what?
I shove the folder her way and hand it off so her quivering fingers brush mine and the contact sends a jolt of heat up my arm. Her touch is soft, and I can’t remember that sensation being quite like this. With a nod, she sinks down onto the couch and opens the folder on her lap.
Her brown eyes narrow as she studies the new identity inside.
An unsteadiness takes me as I watch. I settle onto the plastic chair to my left, manspreading to offer my errant dick some breathing room as I enjoy the vision of the angel in front of me.
She’s far too fucking young for an old fuck like me but my dick and my reason are not on speaking terms at the moment.
The ancient as fuck old black and white fuzz ball of a dog wheezes to his feet when I sit, stumbling out from under the chair, his milky white eyes focused on me as Denny sucks in a breath.
“Watch out—” He starts as the dog shifts at my feet. “He’s mean.”
“Uh huh,” I say as I reach down and snap at the floor. The dog wags its crooked tail, limping and tripping as he turns in a little circle then collapses over the toe of my shoe on a relaxed sigh.
My angel glances at me from beneath long eyelashes. “That’s Shelby. He hates men. Someone tied him up by his back leg for years because he was trying to bite everyone. That’s why he limps like that.”
“People suck,” I growl, wondering if I can find out who the shitstain was and bring him my own brand of justice as I give the now sleeping dog a two fingered scratch behind his ear. “Make him feel safe. He’ll forget all about the past.”
“You have a knack.” Her eyes brighten. “We could use you at the shelter.”
And there it is. Fucking fate, you filthy motherfucker.
Her gaze locks on my stiffy, which is battling its way from down my pant leg toward my hip, then finally finding its less uncomfortable resting place straight up to the left of my zipper as I choke back a grunt.
There’s no way she didn’t just see that.
The swollen fucker is visible from the top of the Stratosphere sky needle.
She throws me a dead eye stare, and I make no move to cover my boner. For a second, it’s just us, then she blushes on a smirk and goes back to the file.
Finally, she closes it, folding her hands, staring me down as the A/C in the ceiling above strains under the oppressive heat outside and that fucking fly returns, buzzing straight past me on its way toward Hannah’s father.
“So, is there anything not in the file that I should know about… Jamie.” It’s a challenge wrapped in a question, but her voice is light and airy, like that fucking ocean breeze in my vision. My chest constricts like I’m having a heart attack.
The image of her sitting at the table with me rushes back, only this time, it’s like a vice grip on my balls because in this version, she’s naked and my cum is dripping off her chin while she smiles with drops of my jizz dotting her breasts, mixing with the milk streaming from her palm-sized cotton candy pink nipples.
I imagine spinning her around, pressing her cheek to the table and taking handfuls of those big milkers.
Her swollen belly is sexy as fuck as I sink my dick into her tight warmth, securing her hands behind her back while pounding into her warm cunt like I’m trying to fight my way out the other side.
Daddy’s needy, baby. You tease me then wonder why I have to do this. I have to get off using your hot little teenage hole because you make me. Fuck, you make me do it.
Jesus, this needs to stop. I can’t let my dick control things or I’m going to start making stupid decisions.
I clear my throat, ripping my eyes from her tits. “Nothing else. Memorize what’s in there. Anything else you can make up as we go along. Don’t reference your real life at all.”
She squints on a smirk and I start counting her freckles.
“You’re Daddy’s best girl,” I mutter, so fucking lost in my fantasy I barely notice the look from Greg and her father. “Gotta play my part. You’re mine.”
“You mean for the weekend,” she says, shifting on the yellow cushion.
Fuck, no, I want to tell her. The weekend? This is the rest of our fucking lives, little girl.
“Sure, let’s play pretend for the weekend. That’s the job. I’m your Daddy. Get used to calling me that.”
She worries her teeth on her bottom lip, her eyes drifting closed, chest rising, lungs filling, then she holds that breath, her peaked nipples calling out for my teeth as I start counting freckles again.
I’m up to fifty-five and I realize I’ve been staring at her in silence, as the two limp dicks stand there like they’re waiting their turn to take it up the ass for a quarter.
“Daddy,” she murmurs, and clutches the file in her lap as the blush on her cheeks deepens. Her nipples practically speak through the thin fabric of her tank top, saying, ‘Come suck on us. We’re lonely…’.
Soon, my precious angel. Soon Daddy will take care of all your princess needs.
Finally, she tosses the folder on the chrome and glass coffee table and gives me a smile that makes me want to close the deal right this second, stuff the forty grand in her father’s pocket and take her out to the car to eat her out spread eagle on the hood.