Page 95 of Break Me, Daddy

“Of course I do.”

It was as simple as that for him. And every day it became a little bit simpler for her to believe it.

Holden

He tookher out for ice cream, just like he’d promised. And, just like he’d promised, he’d put a plug in her ass before they’d left the house.

Watching her now, standing in front of the counter, a thoughtful frown on her lips as she scanned the menu, knowing she had an ass full of his cum had his cock hardening in his jeans even though he’d just had her an hour ago. He almost hoped she’d get sassy with him so he’d have an excuse to put her on her knees the second they walked through the door.

“What sounds good, baby?”

“Umm. I’m not sure.”

There was a little hitch in her voice that worried him, so he slid his arms around his waist and pulled her back against him, dipping his head to whisper in her ear. “You are going to get at least one scoop of ice cream. You are not going to worry about calories or carbs or any of those things. Do you know why?”

“Why?” Her response was breathless, and he nearly grinned.

“Because Daddy said so. And you want to be a good girl for Daddy, don’t you, baby?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Then order whatever you want. I think I’m getting the cookie dough.” He had a weakness for those little chunks of dough.

“Okay. Um.” She still sounded hesitant, but her voice was stronger now, a bit more sure. “I think I just want vanilla.”

Giving her a tight squeeze, he pressed a kiss to her temple. “Good girl. Any toppings?”

“No, but… Can I get it in a cone?”

“Of course, baby.” She could have whatever she fucking wanted as far as he was concerned. At least when it came to these little treats, he swore to himself he would never deny her a goddamn thing.

She’d had more than enough of that in her life.

They were up next, so he placed their orders and passed off her cone with a single scoop of vanilla ice cream on top. And even if he’d hoped she might venture a little further out of her comfort zone, it was still a damn big step for her and pride welled in his chest as she took a tentative lick.

“Oh man, this is delicious.” Moaning softly in a way that shot straight to his already rock-hard cock, she gave the cone another lick. “We should make this a tradition. If I’m good enough to earn an ass-fucking, I get ice cream, too.”

“I think we can arrange that,” he said with a laugh.

Grinning up at him, she waved the cone. “My mom would have a conniption right now.”

“Because you’re eating ice cream?”

“Because I’m eating an ice-cream cone. In public.” Tilting her nose in the air, Frankie pitched her voice up to a nasally drawl. “You’re going to make a mess, Francesca. Be a lady, Francesca. Legares don’t eat those things, Francesca.”

“I really fucking hate those ‘Legares don’t’ sayings they put in your head.”

“Me too.” Her eyes took on a far-off look like she was fantasizing about something particularly lovely. “Maybe I should change my name. That would really piss them off if they found out. And I think it could be refreshing, you know? New name, new me.”

Stopping on the sidewalk they’d been strolling down as they ate, he turned to her. And looking at his babygirl, her fiery hair pulled up in a high ponytail, a smudge of ice cream on her cheek, he fell in love with her all over again. “What about Prescott?”

Confusion drew her brows together. “What about it?”

“For a new last name. I’ve got one just sitting around. Francesca Prescott has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

He didn’t think he’d ever see the day Francesca Legare was struck speechless. But at his suggestion, her mouth fell open and she stared up at him in stunned wonder. “Did you… did you just ask me to marry you?”

“Yeah, I did. And the sooner the better, as far as I’m concerned. We can go apply for a license tomorrow and be married by the weekend.”

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