Page 2 of 4ever Daddy

When Colt pulls away, I can tell he wants more but won’t push. “I’ll be back tonight,” he says, then wanders off, back the way he came, leaving me to pick up the pieces of what my stepmother will call a betrayal.

Turning around, I see she’s on her cell phone already, talking a hundred miles a minute and cursing out my name while calling me a whore.

The worst part is, she’s right.

I am a whore.

A whore for Coltrain Vine.

CHAPTER 2

Coltrain

Staring out over the water as fishing boats come in for the day, I often feel a certain sense of nostalgia. I used to love being on the water. I grew up a fourth-generation fisherman, and when I decided to hand over my nets for the last time, it was worth it. Watching Matilda grow into the beautiful young woman she is today is my greatest achievement.

I don’t regret choosing her over the possibility of losing my life to the sea. But days like today, when the sky is clear, the water calm, and the bounty plentiful, I wish I had the opportunity to get back out there. Real estate isn’t as fulfilling as it once was, and I no longer feel the rush of a challenging deal that I previously did.

Gabriella Moore instantly comes to mind.

Getting my lips on hers for the first time a few hours ago and having her come in my arms was nothing short of fucking magical. The girl has consistently been on my mind since Matilda introduced us a couple of months ago.

I know she wants me too, but I’m concerned she’s as young as my daughter. A year younger, I think. And I know she comes from a home where things weren’t great. I’m not afraid of pursuing the young woman, but I am concerned that she’ll jump in with both feet and resent me later if she doesn’t have the opportunity to learn and grow.

The last thing I want to do is stifle her.

For the last couple of months, she’s been living in one of my smaller cottage rentals in exchange for some landscaping and upkeep of a few properties I own. She’s good at it and loves the labor of working with her hands. I’ve been considering offering her a position in my office, as well, so she’ll have some financial freedom.

If I close my eyes and clear my mind, I can feel her against me again. Her soft curves melting into my hard planes as she comes apart for me. Her dulcet moans as I plundered her mouth. And I recall the surprise in her eyes when she pulled away, that I could draw that kind of response from her.

Gabs is a woman with pent-up passion, awaiting someone to unlock it. I will be that someone.

With one last look at the docks, I begin walking up the boardwalk, heading towards my parked Land Rover. I’ll grab dinner on my way back to Gabriella’s house. I have a proposition for her that might get me kicked out of her life for good, or it’ll alleviate the pressure of me telling her what she can and can’t do from the start of our relationship.

I find the more I imagine our future together, the more I’d like to maintain control of her. I want to know everything she’s doing as she does it, and the power to tell her when and where she can go. To decide who is in and out of her life. Down to the clothes she wears. I want complete control of the woman, and I realize it will take time to build that kind of relationship, so I’m going to be upfront about it.

The restaurant that Gabs likes so much is in the opposite direction of her house, but I know how excited she’ll be since she doesn’t indulge nearly as often as someone her age. I order her a PB & J maple bacon burger with a side of parmesan dill curly fries with a chocolate shake to drink, and I get the same.

Waiting is torture as I keep checking the time on my watch. I open the security app on my phone and check on her house. The woman who was there this afternoon didn’t leave for over an hour after I had, and as I watch the footage of them together, I can tell she’s beating Gabriella down. Chipping away at her confidence with every word she says. I don’t have audio on the cameras, and I regret that now.

Switching to the living room view, Gabriella is napping on the couch. Before that, however, she spent too much time crying until she was exhausted and fell asleep.

My order number is called, so I grab our food and head back out to my vehicle, where I text Gabs to tell her I’m on my way. She wouldn’t like me getting there to see her all sleep-ruffled. This’ll give her a chance to get up and try washing the tears away so she can hide her turmoil from me.

When I’m about five minutes from her house, I receive a message saying that I don’t have to bring her dinner. Rolling my eyes, I really wish this woman would just accept that people enjoy her company.

As I pull into the driveway, I see she has finished weeding the flower beds out front, and I admire her work before knocking on the door. She doesn’t take long to answer, which makes me believe she was waiting for me.

“You look gorgeous,” I say.

Her hair is in tumbling curls around her face and shoulders, a light pink color stains her lips, and her long, jet-black lashes frame her addicting honey-colored eyes, making them pop. Heat enters her cheeks at my admiration, giving her a natural blush. The dress, however, is what steals my attention.

It’s cute in its simplicity. Thin straps cover her shoulders, leading to a ruched bodice with a string bow tying the sides together. The skirt hugs her feminine curves without being tight, ending about mid-thigh and making my mouth water for a look underneath.

“Thank you.” She bites her lip, and I sense she wants to say more, so I force her to.

“Thank you, what?” My commanding tone leaves no room for confusion about what I want.

“Daddy,” she sighs with a dreamy look in her eyes. “Thank you, Daddy.”

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