Page 5 of Daddy

“You mean… You didn’t?” Layla leans forward with a surprised expression—because I’m man whore—and props her elbows on the table. “You didn’t fuck him?NowI’m fucking intrigued.”

I chuckle softly, a grin spreading across my face. “I would have,” I confess.Fuck, would I have. He could’ve asked anything of me and I would’ve done it without hesitation. “I mean, it’sRory. And just… He’s not like what I expected… at all.”

Looking like she’s about to die from the suspense, she cocks a brow and insists. “Details. Seriously. All of them. What happened?”

I’m still trying to figure that out myself.

“So…” I begin, taking a deep breath and stammer through my word vomit. “When we got into the room, I thought he’d bid on me just to be nice. So, I didn’t look bad after Conor. I thought he was being sweet. But that wasn’t it. He actually bought me. He wanted me. Once I knew he actually wanted me, I figured it would be like any other one-night stand. A little flirting. Some awkward fumbling. A little foreplay and then we’d just get down to it. But it wasn’t like that.”

Layla hangs on my every word, practically vibrating in anticipation as I walk her through what happened next—removing my clothes and dropping to my knees. She bites her bottom lip, clearly expecting me to finally spill the juicy details.

“He just stood there. So fucking intense,” I continue, my voice low as I recall the moment so vividly I can practically feel Rory looming over me. “Then he gripped my jaw—like, really firmly—and forced me to stare into his eyes. I swear it felt like time froze and he was staring into my soul.”

Goosebumps prickle down my spine at the thought, and I rub my hand reminiscently over the stubble on my jaw where he’d tightly held it last night. “His thumb dragged over my lower lip and he said something like, ‘As much as I want to… Not tonight. If you want my cock to pass over these soft lips of yours, you’re going to be a good boy for me and learn to be patient. When you show me you can do that, I’ll collect my winnings.’”

Layla gasps, her mouth hanging open in shock. “He just left?”

“Yup.” I nod. “He just… left. With me shirtless and on my knees with my cock so hard it was ready to tear through my dress slacks. I mean, who does that? Seriously, sweetie… I was so fucking hard, I had to… relieve myself, twice, before I could even think about walking out of that room.”

“Gross, Jorge.” Layla laughs, sitting back in her seat and taking a long sip of her own iced coffee.

“What?” I toss my hands up and shrug. “Was I just supposed to walk through the club with it tucked into my waistband like I’m back in junior high?”

“Boys don’t actually do that.” Layla sighs.Like she’s ever had a penis with a brain of its own.

“Every single time I saw Bradley Harper, captain of the football team,” I sincerely insist. “Listen, at fourteen, we have zero control of that thing.”

She laughs, slightly disturbed at my confession, and settles back into her seat. “So, now what? You just sit here and wait for him to decide you’re being a good boy—which you aren’t capable of—so he can fuck you?”

“I guess?” I shake my head. “I don’t know.”

Part of me wants to just call it quits and forget he has been added to my list of strange sexual encounters—the hot oneandthe weirdo one. But he got under my skin, and I can’t stop thinking about the short time we spent in that room. I’ve never been treated like that before.

And fuck, did I ever like it.

CHAPTERSEVEN

RORY

It’s been two weeks since the auction, and every damn one of those days has felt like an eternity. An eternity watching and waiting for Jorge to be a good boy…My good boy.To show me he wants this. I’ve kept my distance, only seeing him in passing—until tonight.

Quinn was adamant I didn’t miss an Evans family dinner two weeks in a row. I was hoping that the chaotic event would keep my mind off things, but all my focus is on the man seated down the table from me. There is an undeniable tension between us—me unable to pull my eyes from him and him unwilling to look at me. He’s avoiding me.I know why.And if I’m being honest with myself, I expected it.

Dinner carries on, the rest of the family oblivious to the unease and discomfort between the two of us. My thoughts drown out the vibrant conversation around the table, like I’m hearing everything through a thick fog. Finn laughs about something—loud and obnoxious, pulling me from my thoughts. I take a long gulp of my whiskey, hoping it’ll help to quiet the noises in my head and help me get through this meal.

“How did your date go with the pilot last night?” I hear a snippet of Layla and Jorge’s conversation. Freezing mid-sip, the glass hovers just below my lips, and I tighten my grip around it. My jealous glare is focused on Jorge, and I can’t stop the flush of heat creeping up my neck. He glances in my direction, and his expression quickly shifts. Fidgeting in his seat, he tries to stow his expression before excusing himself from the table.

Without thinking, I push my chair back and follow him into the house. I trail down the hallway behind him, toward the guest bathroom. He steps inside, and before he has a chance to close the door, I follow him in and shut us both inside.

His eyes widen with surprise as I stalk toward each of his retreating steps. My voice deep and laced with disapproval, I gruff, “I thought I told you to be a good boy.”

Jorge’s breath hitches slightly, and I can practically see his pulse pounding in his neck. His mouth gapes, and he hesitates. “What are you doing?”

I don’t answer. Instead, I stalk toward him until he is stuck between me and the sink vanity. I take a deep breath, the tightness in my chest growing.What the hell am I doing?I am far more controlled than this. But everything about Jorge chips at my resolve.

“Good boys don’t disobey Daddy,” I quietly scold, slowly speaking each word for emphasis.

Staring back at me with defiance, he huffs, “Maybe I’m not a good boy.”

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