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“If that popcorn guy passes by Monroe one more time,” Lincoln suddenly growled from my other side. “She doesn’t need any fucking popcorn!”
The circle of trust was...well, I wasn’t quite sure what it was, yet. It seemed to consist of my teammates Lincoln Daniels, Ari Lancaster, and Walker Davis—all stars on the team and in the League—and it seemed to be some kind of group for men scarily obsessed with their girls. But again...I wasn’t quite sure what it really was. I only knew that I kind of wanted in.
Did I have some sort of problem where I had a compulsive need to help women in distress. Yes. Was I ever going to admit that out loud? No. I’m sure a psychologist would have a field day with that particular personality trait. I had no intention of finding that out for sure, though.
Hopefully I hadn’t screamed too loud. There had been a mom with her two little kids in the cots next to me last night.
“Sonic must have known,” she said with a wink, and I did my best not to cry. You weren’t supposed to cry about Sonic.
Instead of dancing to the music, the music was playing for her. Like it was made for her. Or something like that. I’d never been a particularly fancy-worded guy, eloquent I guess was the word? But I was sitting here waxing poetic about this girl like nobody’s business.
She was a fucking masterpiece. I’d never seen anything in my life as beautiful...as perfect as… Fuck! I glanced around, a strange heat clawing up my neck. Everyone was seeing her like this. Everyone was seeing what was mine.
“Are you alright, Camden?” Geraldine’s voice cut through the haze. She’d noticed I was gripping the armrests like I was scared the chair was going to buck me off. And fuck. I was hard. Not just hard, I had an erection that could cut glass.
I quickly tried to conjure up the image of Geraldine’s teeth floating in a water glass, bits of spinach still stuck between the crevices.
I frowned, on second thought, maybe there wasn’t enough security. That angel on the stage probably had rabid fans stalking her everywhere. I would know, I was about to become one of them.
I guess the angel on stage could be a brat...or a bitch... With talent like that, there was usually an ego. I really didn’t fucking care, though. I’d fuck the brat right out of her if I needed to.
Unfortunately, the three hundred followers she had were all men. So, I’d spent thirty minutes reporting all of them—and then reporting her account, too, because it was nothing but a thirst trap for horny assholes. We’d be having a discussion about privacy and who to accept as friends at a later date.
I liked single moms with the best of them, but I wasn’t going there. Plus, there was the whole fact that something had happened to my DNA last night, and suddenly, all my dick was attracted to was a ballerina that looked like an angel and danced like sin. For all I knew, she could be a single mom…but for her, I’d go there. I’d let her call me Daddy any day. Alright, crazy. Don’t get a woody in the community kitchen line.
She was flawless, stunning, so perfect that she couldn’t possibly be real. There had to be a flaw somewhere. Was there a hairy back hiding under the oversized sweatshirt she was wearing? No. Fuck. She’d been wearing a low-backed spandex looking outfit while she’d performed last night. Definitely no hairy back problems.
There was also the vulnerability in her eyes, it pulled at something inside me. I wanted to protect her. To make her mine. It didn’t matter that I was probably quite a bit older than her. Something told me my baby girl needed that. Besides, as I was constantly telling Logan, our cheeky, arrogant little rookie. I wasn’t an old man. I was seasoned. I could be the best kind of seasoning for her.
Oooh, this man was dangerous. One “baby girl” in that smooth southern drawl, and I was rethinking my whole life...that’s how powerful it was. Especially that word coming from a man who looked like he knew how to take care of someone. His “daddy” energy was off the charts. It made me want to curl up against him and feel him wrap those muscled arms around me protectively.
Mind you less than half a page ago she was all "men are trouble and i should stay away from them, even the hot ones"
No, no. I couldn’t just fucking kidnap her. Yet.
I couldn’t wait to spoil her. Couldn’t wait to put that dreamy look in her eyes every day because her life was so fucking good. My dick hardened at the thought. I was pretty sure I had some kind of caregiver kink—there
“Please let me out,” I sobbed as “Gatsby,” Michael’s Doberman, snarled at me from the other side of the cage. Michael had chained him tightly to the cage wall across from me, so he couldn’t quite reach where I was huddled up in the corner...but it was only a matter of time before he let out the chain.
One had been a men’s briefs line, and Camden James had a lot to be cocky about. The size of his cock made sure of that. I honestly didn’t know how he fit it in his pants.
Maybe I should just kidnap her....
The thought of her being out on the street for even one minute gave me literal hives. Getting her kicked out of the shelter was a necessity though. She never would have left on her own. I had to put her in a situation where she had to depend on me so I could actually take care of her.
Lincoln’s lips twitched and I studied the star forward. If there ever was a person with Big Dick Energy...it was Lincoln Daniels. Didn’t surprise me at all that he would be a secret psychopath. I’d seen the camera on his phone that appeared to monitor Monroe’s whereabouts. I needed to ask him what app he used as soon as I got Anastasia in my penthouse.
I’d just thrown raw meat into an alleyway to scare a poor girl into moving in with me. I could still picture her panicked eyes the night we’d seen that first dog. How she’d whimpered and held onto me for dear life. And now, here I was siccing her worst fear on her. I’d make it up to her. I knew I would.
I honestly hadn’t known that they made dicks that big. It was like he was carrying a coke bottle between his legs. How did that fit in anyone?