Secret Daddy

by K.C. Crowne

This isn’t one of my prouder moments. But everybody has their limits, and I’m no exception.

So fucking stupid, but hindsight’s twenty-twenty.

But this betrayal cuts too deep. My pride’s bruised black and blue, and I’m nowhere close to giving him even an ounce of forgiveness.

I clearly don’t fit in here, but I’m not going anywhere.

The last thing I want right now are unsolicited comments about my crumbling personal life.

It’s amazing how naked I feel beneath his observant gaze.

“A beautiful woman,” he says, “all alone in a romantic place. Your ex is a damn fool for treating you this way.”

Anonymity can be liberating that way. That, and I can’t stop thinking about how it might feel to just let it all go.

Free to make mistakes and learn from them. Free to live for myself. Free to look into the future and do whatever I want.

“Don’t worry, dolcezza. He was just a boy. I’m going to show you how a real man fucks.”

His kisses are rougher, but I like it infinitely better this way. He’s rough and demanding, proof that he wants not just my mouth, but the very air I’m trying to breathe. It’s all-consuming and wonderfully dizzying.

There’s nothing wrong with loving someone despite their flaws. What’s unforgivable is how he didn’t give you the same level of love and devotion in return.”

Maybe there is such thing as fate.

These changes… They hurt like hell, but for the first time in a long time, I’m hopeful that I can turn things around. I won’t let anybody stand in the way of doing what makes me happy.

Fleeting and new, but sincere and intimate.

I need to get my life in order, do some real soul searching. I’m tired of playing the naive fool. It’s time to grow the hell up and take charge of my life. No man is going to take advantage of me ever again.

There’s a gnawing grief in the center of my chest, eating me alive. All I can do is try to not let it consume me whole.

I’m making it on my own, and I’m immensely proud of that fact.

Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do.

Nobody should ever thank the man who helped them sign away their soul.

I can’t explain where this protectiveness comes from, and I know for a fact that I haven’t suddenly grown a conscience, but I won’t have a part in ruining this woman’s life.

I’m a man who takes what he wants, but not at the risk of abusing my power—especially not over a woman in dire straits.

What I want is to go in there and ask her for one more amazing night together. What I want, for reasons unknown to me, is to take all her troubles and worries away. What I want is to ask her what she’s been up to in the five years since and to ask if she’s free tomorrow night and the night after that so I can spoil her rotten.

Just because my dreams have been dashed for the zillionth time, I refuse to give up.

The taste of his skin on my tongue, the smell of his earthy cologne in my nose, the sound of his deep growl reverberating in my ear.

“When was the last time you let someone take care of you?”

I’ve committed a cardinal sin by revealing what I know, but Arin’s threat of taking our daughter and once again slipping from my grasp scared me awake. I just found them. How could I stand to lose them so soon after?

It’s at this moment that something locks into place. It’s possessive, territorial, protective. It was fate meeting her all those years ago, and it was fate when she stumbled into my office. The powers that be have given me a second chance, and I’d be a fool to let it go to waste.

“You’re mine to protect, dolcezza,” I murmur against her mouth. “You and our little girl. I’ll keep you both safe.”

There’s nothing sexier to me than a woman who knows she’s got it going on and isn’t afraid to tease me senseless.

Nobody hurts my woman. The only person who gets to be rough with her is me, and only because she asks so nicely.

She is everything—everything.

In many ways, she is a gift. And she’s all mine.