AllFreeNovel
Share Us
And why in the hell did the owner of one of the most respected and successful security companies in the country take a girl into his home on a night known by robbers and criminals as their best opportunity all year to infiltrate homes to rob, and to steal and kill?
Something about this girl is just…different.
I can’t put my finger on it and I can’t really put my finger on what she’s doing to me. I’ve been obsessed with business my whole life, swearing I’d never get married let alone have children, but something about her not only stirs a need within me to make her mine, but also something paternal.
The only question is…why?
Although another question hangs over the room like a six-hundred-pound gorilla.
Who is this blue eyed baby girl’s dad and why is she here?
“Sir,” my personal assistant, Greta, announces her presence with a knock on the door as she leans her body against the doorjamb in a way that makes her breasts nearly fall out of her nurse’s outfit. “You’re needed out back. The apple bobbing is about to begin and everyone is asking where the man of the hour is.”
“Not now, Greta,” I politely brush her off. “I have…something more important to attend to. Something came up.”
“It most certainly did,” she says, slithering her way from the door toward me. I reluctantly take my eyes from the young woman who’s lying so peacefully on my office couch and shoot daggers at Greta although she continues in my direction unfazed.
And it’s only then I realize the double entendre she’s referring to, her eyes locked in on my groin and I can feel that something most definitely did come up…but not because of Greta. Because of this unnamed beauty before me.
“If you don’t want to bob for apples, you can stick your head down here and bob for something else,” she says, pressing her tits together to the point her cleavage continues right along down her underboob and it’s only then I realize she’s actually cupping her bare breasts. They’ve popped out, or she’s pulled them out, and if she removes her hand she’ll be fully exposed. She’s taking the bobbing for apples, or breasts in her case, and is ready to bring her ‘apples’ right to my mouth.
No thanks.
“Out!” I command, pointing to the door. “Get. Out.”
Her head jerks back and she sulks. “It’s Halloween. Aren’t you ever going to give in and have fun or are you just going to live your whole life focused on making another buck and not…not…me!”
“Out, Greta,” I snarl, and she stuffs her hands back into her top, her breasts accompanying them, and huffs out of the room.
I look down at my peaceful angel resting and exhale a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
Suddenly I feel calm. Perfect.
I move to the wall and pull open the hidden door, removing a bottle of Gatorade and bring it to the young woman’s lips as she stirs.
Carefully grasping the back of her head, her silken hair weaving through my fingers, I ease her up just enough to drink.
“It’s just Gatorade and you need some electrolytes,” I say in a voice more gentle than I ever remember using.
“Thank you,” she says, drinking…and drinking…and continuing right along until nearly half the bottle is empty. “Where am I? What happened?” she questions, her head moving around the room, carefully surveying every surrounding as if she’s now on high alert.
“You showed up at my gate asking for someone, then passed out.”
“Right. Henry Hughes. I need to find him. It’s urgent.”
“How urgent?”
“I have nowhere to turn and my dad said if that ever happened to me to come here, to this house, and ask fo
r Henry and he’d help me.”
“And why would he help you?”
“Because they served together in Afghanistan and, although I’m not sure, I get the feeling Henry saved my dad’s life.” She lowers those big blues to her hands, speaking with such warmth. I’m mesmerized.
I take a step back, shocked at this turn of events.
“You’re…Derek Thompson’s…daughter?”
