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They spend the entire month of December planning who they want to become in the coming year, searching for ways to lose weight, get a new job, or meet the love of their life.
“Making it perfect for your sister. Remember this, Lola. Friends will come and go, but you’ll always have your little sister. It’s your job to keep Lilah safe, okay?”
And the man smiles. He fucking smiles. Clearly, he’s a psychopathic murderer.
“Your mom would be even prouder.”
But those feelings were both tinged in the same type of disappointment I’d been fighting off for years, telling myself it wasn’t greed or addiction but grief.
“You’re fucked up.” “And you need to get laid.” “I’m busy.” “You’re grumpy.” Not this shit again. “I’m always grumpy, according to you.” “Yeah, but you’re grumpier when you’re not getting pussy regularly.”
“No, I’m a man. A man who does whatever the fuck I want. I’ve been living here for three years and never had an issue. You’ve been here for two weeks and it’s been nothing but.”
“Sweet dreams, babe.” And with that, I flip him off, go into my apartment and slam the door behind me.
But these days, the only thing women really need protection from is men.
“When was the last time you had a man take care of you, sweet girl?”
“No. No, Lola. You never have to be scared of me, sweet girl. Ever.”
I hitch that leg and don’t have to move much more than to my tippy toes to line his hard cock up with my center.
Until that note on my door. Until Johnny showed up at my bakery.
My breathing is already starting to quicken as my ring finger hits the very top of my slit, pressing in to quickly graze my clit.
Easy. Professional. Not a dick.
Right now, I have to go save my woman. She doesn’t know it yet, but I’ve just decided she’s mine—in every way.
Her pussy. Not long ago, these fingers were inside of her; her pussy was clamping down while she fucked herself, rubbed herself with these fingers that I’m cleaning with my tongue.
But not for Ben, because he’s a giant dickhole.
take the smallest step until our bodies are lined up as I sneak my tongue past her lips, tasting her again. She moans as I slip into her mouth.
My cock twitches again, agreeing with my thoughts.
And then she takes it a step further, locking eyes with me and swiping a finger through her wet, from her entrance to where she circles her clit at the top, letting out a breathy noise.
Kim Kardashian-level ugly cries.
“Let Daddy test, prove me wrong.” That should not be so fucking hot. There’s no universe where a man calling himself daddy should be so fucking sexy, but here we are.
“Yes, Daddy,”
