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"No, of course not."
"You should have."
"What? Why?" I turn to look at him, confused. "What's going on?"
"He's buying me out, Lyric. Come February, the company will belong to him," he murmurs.
"What?" I shout, gaping at him. "You're leaving the company?"
"I am. Do you know why I picked February?"
"I…" I shake my head, at a loss for words. Who cares why he picked February when my world is caving in? He's leaving the company. He won't be there every day anymore.
"It's your twenty-first birthday," he says softly.
"You're leaving for my twenty-first birthday." My bottom lip quivers.
"No! God, no," he says. "I'mretiringfor your twenty-first birthday, Lyric. I'm building this house for you, princess. It's all forus."
"I…" I lick my lips, staring at him, too afraid to hope.
"You deserve more than a tiny one-bedroom cabin in the woods and a daddy who works sixty hours a week." He slides me closer to him, cupping the back of my neck. "I bought the land three days after I met you. I knew then that you were mine. Construction started a week later."
"You're all I wanted," I whisper. "I've wanted you so bad. I've been dying in want of you." Maybe that sounds dramatic, but it's true. Every day I spent without him; I couldn't breathe. Ithurt. I've never needed anything the way I need him.
"I know, baby girl," he croons. "I know. It's been killing me too. I spent half my goddamn time following you around, watching you, making sure no one touched what belongs to daddy."
I whimper, my clit throbbing at the thought of him stalking me. I like it far more than I should.
"You asked Santa for a daddy for Christmas." His eyes meet mine, dark with intensity. "You only have one daddy, little girl. Me. There is no other for you, just like there will never be another baby girl for me."
"You're the only one I wanted, daddy," I promise, reading the jealousy in his tone.
"I'm not waiting until February to claim you, little girl," he growls, his expression heated. "You wanted me for Christmas. That's what you're going to get. Starting right now, you're mine." His gaze drops to my lips. "To touch, to fuck, to punish, and to please."
"Yes," I moan, my needy clit throbbing again. "I'll be good, daddy. I promise."
"Don't be." His mouth settles over mine in an erotic kiss. "Be a brat. Torture daddy with that perfect princess cunt and that gorgeous little body. Make me crazy, baby girl. It won't make daddy love you any less."
"Sinclair," I gasp.
"Yeah, I said it," he growls into my mouth. "And I fucking meant it. I love you."
"I'm going to be so sad if this is a dream," I whisper.
His hand slides into my hair, gently pulling the strands as he slips his tongue inside my mouth. I melt against him like snow in the heat, turning to a puddle of quivering need on his lap. His tongue curls around mine, coaxing it into a carnal, intimate dance.
I squirm on top of him, my entire body aching worse than it did before I had my hand in my panties. I need him, desperately.
"Daddy," I moan. "Please, daddy."
"It's not a dream, baby girl," he growls. "Your daddy is fucking crazy about you." He kisses a trail to my ear before nipping the lobe. "But you already knew that, didn't you? It's why you made sure he saw your letter to Santa."
"I…I…"
"Don't lie, princess."
"Yes," I whisper, admitting the truth to him…and to myself. I could have gone to the post office first, but I didn't. I went to his house with my letter in hand, hoping I'd be brave enough to slip it into the paperwork. That's why it was mixed in with the stack in the first place. Iwantedhim to read it. Iwantedhim to do something about it. And then things got all messed up, and I ended up giving it to him by accident instead of on purpose. That part wasn't supposed to happen.
