Page 157 of Twisted Needs

“Come move to the middle seat,” he whispers. “You’re too far. I need to touch you.”

I don’t argue. I slide over, and the moment I do, he pulls me in like it’s instinct—arm around my shoulders, hand steady at my jaw, turning me toward him until there’s no space left to pretend this is casual.

“Parker,” I exhale softly, grinning. “The driver.”

His hand stays at my waist a second too long. Then I feel him shift beside me—small, deliberate. He snakes his hand up beneath my shirt, holding me by the small of my back. “Give me a hug.”

“You’re ridiculous,” I laugh, wrapping my arms around his shoulders.

My body sparks all at once, nerves firing faster than I can steady them. Then his hand trails down lower, dipping beneath my dress pants. A shock ripples through me, sharp and unrelenting, leaving me unbalanced in my own skin.

Parker pauses a moment. “Anderson,” he whispers, putting a little space between us. His eyes immediately flicker down to the front of my pants, and before I even realize it, he’s undoing my belt and popping open my button. With one hand still around me, Parker unzips my pants and exhales sharply. “What is it about special life events that makes you think it’s a good idea to wear these?” He drags his finger along the top seam of the red thong I’m wearing.

“Mhmmh. I wore them for you, Daddy.”

“Yeah?” he murmurs gently. “Well I’m glad you haven’t forgotten yourself.”

“Forgotten myself?”

He reaches back around and sticks his hand back down my pants, swiping a finger up my crease. “I’m proud of that degree, baby. But that doesn’t change the fact that I’ve been counting down the hours until I can get you alone.”

Something tight and warm coils low in me.

“You’re still the same kid who crawls into my lap whenever he wants attention, aren’t you?” When he presses against my pucker, I instinctively clench. Parker clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “Well that’s unfortunate,” he whispers deeply into my ear. “You just made my job a lot more difficult.”

“Okay, but you didn’t⁠—”

“You’re telling me you slipped into these slutty panties this morning and didn’t think to put a plug in your pussy for me?” And then he pulls back, retracting his hand and leaning fully against his seat. “You can zip your pants back up, angel.”

I sit there, just stunned. It takes several seconds for my mind to catch up with what he just said.

The rest of the car ride is a blur of passing lights and stolen glances. Parker slips the driver a Benjamin before leading me by the small of my back up the front steps. The front door clicks shut and we both take our shoes off.

I toss my gap and gown on a kitchen barstool, feeling Parker watch my every movement like a hawk. With each footstep he takes, my heart beats a little faster. When I feel his hand settle on my shoulder, my body tenses. I go so still it’s almost embarrassing. He plucks the diploma from my fingers, my hand automatically letting it go.

“Go upstairs,” he orders. “Clothes off. Panties on.”

I swallow. “Shouldn’t we be celebrating me tonight?” I ask, my voice shaky.

He laughs under his breath. “Baby, I’ve been celebrating you all day.” He steps closer. “But I still have needs.”

My breath hitches as he turns me around. Parker looks down at me like I’m something to tame. Like he wants to put me in my place and remind me exactly who he is. “You got your degree.” His thumb brushes my jaw. “Now come let me have you for a while.”

I walk upstairs in a daze, shed my clothes, and wait on the bed.

Parker takes his time coming up after me. Every measured step seems intentional, like he’s in no hurry because he already knows exactly how this night is going to go.

The moment he appears in the doorway, my attention snags on the hand tucked behind his back.

I lean back on my palms as he approaches. He stops in front of me, looking down with an unreadable expression that sends a nervous flutter through my stomach.

When he finally sits beside me, the mattress dips beneath his weight. He pats his thigh. “C’mere,” he says quietly.

Heat floods my face. I shift closer, and he guides me into position with steady hands, arranging me exactly where he wants me.

“I like you like this,” Parker murmurs, tracing his finger along the thin cotton, stopping where it disappears down my crease. “You look good here, Anders.” He smooths his hand over my ass, squeezing each cheek almost impulsively. “I want us to have a safe word for this.”

“Zucchini,” I blurt.