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AVERY
Coming home to Scottsdale was a mistake. My parents are gone for the holidays, so it’s just me in this giant house. For once, I wanted to cry on my mother’s shoulder and tell her all about my boy problems. I wanted my father to get all protective and promise to shoot any man who dares hurt his little girl.
None of that happened, and it probably never will. Truthfully, I don’t even think my parents care what I do, as long as I don’t get arrested.
But now I’m in deep shit because Samuel is here, and fuck, if he doesn’t look good enough to eat.
He steps inside, turns, and then closes the front door. When he faces me again, he levels me with his heated gaze. Slowly, he stalks his way forward, his hands working his belt free. He drops it on the floor and then undoes the button on his jeans.
“Where are your parents, little girl?” he purrs.
“Mexico,” I answer, but from the devilish smile on his lips, I realize it was a rhetorical question.
“Don’t they know better than to leave you home alone?”
“They don’t care about me.”
He slowly stalks his way forward, his dark eyes locked on me like a target. He shoves his pants down his thighs and then kicks them away, palming his cock and licking his lips.
“And you just let anyone into your house?” His voice is thick and husky; just the sound of it sends jolts of electricity through my body, straight to my core.
“You’re not just anyone,” I answer quietly.
As he advances forward, I walk backward until I’m in the bright, open-concept kitchen and family room. I look to my right, toward the hallway that leads to my bedroom, and turn my body in that direction.
“And who am I?”
“My Daddy.”
He lunges forward and snags me around the waist, drawing me against him. His hard cock presses against my belly as his mouth crashes down on mine. He holds me tight, and I can’t help but grind myself against him. Samuel is everything to me, and I want every part of him, including the ones he refuses to give me.
“Don’t you forget it,” he says as he drags his mouth from mine. “Take me to your bedroom.”
There’s only a few feet between where we stand and my bedroom door. I grab his hand and pull him inside.
“On your knees, Avery,” he growls.
When I’m too slow, his hand is on my shoulder, pressing me down. My knees sink into the polished Saltillo tile floor as I wait.
“Look at me,” he commands.
I follow directions, lifting my chin slightly.
His eyes are dark and dangerous and his nostrils flare slightly as he breathes heavily. “Is this where you first fantasized about me?”
“Yes,” I answer.
“Tell me,” he demands.
How the fuck am I supposed to remember a fantasy I had when I was eighteen years old?
“I imagined your hands all over me,” I tell him.
“Doing what?”
“Touching me.”
“Where? Be specific Avery. I want to know everything.”
