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He grins. “How are they? They’re almost teenagers?”
“Carina’s eighteen,” I say, my voice breaking as I swallow back a sudden lump in my throat. “Lucy is twenty.”
“Wow. Time flies.”
I lift the bag onto my lap to cover my out-of-control dick that’s thickening by the second as I fight off the thoughts of breeding her, so next year, every-fucking-one at this yearly party will know she’s off fucking limits.
I have a lot of old enemies. Most know I’m in exile but not exactly where; if they did, there’s no guarantee they wouldn’t seek me out.
Bobby says the wrong thing to Shelly and she tells her sister back home because she’s got a bee in her bonnet about moving to the fucking wilderness with no Hermes shop within five thousand miles…and before we know it, somebody is trying to get to Carina to hurt me.
I can’t allow that. She needs to have a life free of this shit. But, not free of me.
How I’ll put those two opposing forces together, I still have to puzzle out.
“What’s in the packages?” I ask, staring into the bag. There are several neatly wrapped gifts inside.
Bobby jerks his head toward the bag. “Stuffed Elf on a Shelf deal, sets of those sparkly press on nails, some Christmas paint by number sets. I guess I forgot how old they were. I had to do the shopping this year. Shelly is boycotting Christmas. No disrespect to your granddaughters.”
God. Fucking hell.
I choke out a thank you thinking about how I dry-humped one of those granddaughters a couple hours ago telling her she and her pussy belonged to me now.
We shake hands then I usher him back out the door and into the frigid wind where his snow Cat is still rumbling.
I need to go jump in my ice bath, reset my focus and hope my cock turtles up, giving me a goddamn break for an hour.
There’s a storm coming in, the warning came through on the radio this morning, but it’s far enough away it shouldn’t affect the party. I should go chop wood some wood or workout in the gym for a few hours. Something, anything to take the edge off.
I leave my monitors and computers in black mode as I step back into the hallway, locking the door behind me, then turn left toward the back coat room and one of the less conspicuous doors to outside.
But before I take two fucking steps, Carina twirls around the corner.
“Papa!” she squeals, breaking out in a wide smile, tip-toe skipping my way. “I was coming to find you.”
What the fuck is she wearing?
Christ on the cross. I run my hands down my face, plugging my eye sockets with my fingers, my dick already a battering ram in my pants. The flavor of her lips still haunting me.
“How was practice, baby?” I grit out between clenched teeth as she spins my way, wearing the thinnest tights and bodysuit and come-fuck-me tutu.
Pink.
Just like the one she was wearing the day she stepped into this house four years ago.
Only, this one is smaller. Fucking teasing brat.
Blood pumps through my veins into my erection; the blinding pain in my balls nearly brings me to my knees as I imagine pumping all that seed into that baby making cavern between her legs.
“Alik was…Alik.” She grimaces, then takes an elegant bow, her toes on pointe. “You know, the usual. But I think it went well. I think we are ready for tomorrow. You ready to show off your favorite granddaughter on the big stage?”
She winks, fuckingwinksat me; no one has ever winked at me and lived. Then, Jesus, then she does a perfect pirouette, turns away and bows.
Nose to her knees. Ass up. Head down. Perfect.
“You curse too much. I’m going to wash your mouth out with my tongue. Or maybe something bigger. And harder.” I say as she stands, looking at me over her shoulder, bobbing her eyebrows. “What else are you ready for?” I say as I bring down a hard smack on her cock-teasing ass and note the dark dot of wetness on the crotch of her leotard and the outline of the world’s cutest camel toe.
“Fuck, that feels good.” She rubs her ass with her hands, then turns on her toes, shrugs, falling down onto flat feet as I point at the floor in front of me.
