Me: For now. I need to know what we’re dealing with here. If we have a response from your investigator, we’ll share it at breakfast.
Adrian: Understood. Call if you need anything else.
Me: Thanks. You’re a good brother even if you are a dick.
Adrian: Ditto.
After disconnecting the call, I open my private email, the one only our family uses, and read through the documents from Adrian. Jaclyn shared some of this information at dinner—her mom dying of an overdose when she was ten, then on to foster care. She told us that, but five different placements before she aged out? Why so many? Was she abused?
Anger like I haven’t experienced since my parents’ death surges through me. My fists clench, squeezing my phone. I drop it onto the coffee table and suck in a few deep breaths, trying to settle myself. But I’m striding down the hall toward the bedroom before I realize it. I need to know if someone hurt her. Then, God help them, because I’ll make them pay in ways they can’t begin to imagine.
Stopping outside the door with my hand on the knob, I take a moment to let my brain catch up with my actions. The last thing I want to do is terrify her by storming inside. Then I hear noises. Crying? Moaning? I turn the doorknob, and I slowly open it, just enough to determine what’s going on. At least, that’s what I tell myself.
My breath catches in my throat as I take in the scene. Jaclyn’s kicked off the comforter. Her nightgown is pulled toward her shoulders. She’s pinching her nipple with one hand, while the other slides a vibrator in and out of her pussy as she moans my name.
My. Name.
I should walk away. Pull the door shut. Forget what I’m seeing. A better man would. But I can’t drag my gaze away from the vision spread out on my bed. She’s breathtaking. Moonlight makes her pale skin glow against the navy-blue sheets. With her thighs spread wide, there’s just enough light to see her slide the vibrator in and out of her cunt. Fuck. Me.
“Mmm, yes, Andrewwww. Just like that…” Hearing her moan my name pushes me over the edge. Silently, I walk into the room and stand beside the bed. She’s a goddess. Her eyes are closed, head thrown back. Arching her hips as she fucks herself. The scent of her arousal makes my mouth water, and I can’t stop my groan.
Her eyes pop open, and she stills, caught like a deer in the headlights, as her gaze finds mine in the dark room.
Her whisper is so quiet, I almost miss it. “What are you doing in here?”
The scattered light peeking through the curtains is enough to see her arousal shining on her thighs and dripping around the vibrator onto the sheets. My longing to taste her is visceral.
Licking my lips in anticipation, I lean close enough for my breath to caress her cheek. My voice is deep, dominant, and pure Daddy when I say, “Keep going, little bit. Show Daddy what you like. How you get yourself off.” My cock tents in my sweats, pre-cum leaking against my boxer briefs.
“What?” Her mouth drops open when she registers my words.
“You heard me, Sweetpea, make yourself come for me. I want to know what you like.” I slide my finger over the silky skin of her jaw and push her jaw closed. “Unless you’d like Daddy to do it for you.”
It’s too dark to see all her expressions, but her eyes open wider, and she lies frozen. The desire to touch her, taste her, hear her scream my name is overwhelming. I can’t give in to it, not yet, not with so many unknowns. At least not without her permission.
The room is quiet, our breathing the only sound, as I wait for her to decide.
“I’ve never… I don’t… Why?” My poor baby is so flustered. Raw desire bleeds into the need to hold her, to comfort her. I fight it, staying still beside the bed.
“I heard you. See how wet you are. Do you want Daddy to help?” It’s too much, too soon. Waiting for her to say something, anything, is torture. Then I see it, the slightest nod, and even in the dim light, the color flooding her cheeks is obvious.
“I need your words, little bit. You need to tell Daddy what you want.” My voice is rough, forceful.
“Yes, please…” Our eyes meet as she pulls the vibe from her pussy and drops it beside her on the bed.
“Please what, baby? Make you come? Force you to finish for me? Walk away?” I know I’m pushing her, but we’re on dangerous ground. I don’t want any misunderstandings later. Consent is everything in my world. It doesn’t matter how desperate I am for this woman; I won’t touch her without it.
“Please make me come, Andrew,” she pleads, her voice barely above a whisper.
I struggle not to demand she call me Daddy, but there’s time for that. All the time in the world, if she agrees to be mine. And I intend to make that happen, no matter what. But first, I need to give my girl some relief.
“My pleasure, Sweetpea.” After lowering myself beside her on the bed, I take a moment to appreciate her, from her flushed cheeks, her taut nipples, and down her curves to her bare pussy. This woman is full of surprises. “Tell me if something doesn’t feel good, okay? Do you know what a safe word is?”
“Yes, I’ve read about them,” she murmurs.
Now I’m dying to ask in what context. Does she read books like Emma has been sharing with Hannah and Rebekah? Or has she done research? “Good girl. Do you have a safe word? Or you can use the stoplight system: green, red, yellow,” I explain.
“Zucchini,” she answers.
