Prologue
Raphael
Getting over Dove Canterbury is im-fucking-possible.
I compare every woman I go on a date with to the raven-haired vixen who stole my heart, and none of them live up to her. None are as beautiful, as caring, as deeply emotional as she is. These girls... they're shells. Empty. Beautiful, but empty. I can't feel anything for them. I refuse to fall for their charms. I find it almost disrespectful with how unoriginal it is. But Dove, Dove wasn't like that. She was fully herself, unabashed yet ashamed, innocent and yet so very broken. I'll never find that again, and deep down, I know it.
Tonight, I'm sitting at a bar, watching people come and go with an impassive expression. I've seen it all from this seat. The cougars, the barely legal girls, the bridesmaids, the bachelor parties, too. I get those guys. We all come here for one thing – to find a hole to fuck.
And there's a lot of beauty on display tonight. Pretty, sexy, voluptuous, thin, tall, petite, and all so motherfucking irresistible. I know if these women were reading my mind, they'd think I'm an asshole. Because I'm thinking of them as objects, not as people. And I know I could go home with any one of them tonight.
But I won’t because none of them are Dove Canterbury.
Because I never got my hands on Dove, I missed out on a big portion of my life. I never married. Never raised a family. I skipped out on the whole perfect life thing to make millions and fuck hundreds. Whether it was worth it or not, I still don't know.
Except there's no denying the truth. That my sick, twisted black heart wants ugly, dark, depraved things I shouldn't crave.
I don't want a child to call me Daddy.
No, in my mind, the word falls from the plump lips of a beautiful woman, one who entrusts me with her body, mind and soul. I'm her daddy, because she knows I'll take care of her pretty little mind, but also fuck her in every hole. It's something I never told Dove, ironically – the woman of my dreams doesn't even know about my sickest, most prevalent fantasy. But I already know it's not for her. She would've hated the thought. And yet I still want her.
With a groan, I toss back the remains of my tequila and set the glass down, motioning to the bartender to get me another. I'm alone tonight – I learned fast enough that taking a friend with me only meant a distraction. I'm not here to make friends. I'm here for pussy.
My eyes scan the crowd again. A group of exactly my type of women sits in a private booth a little way off. At least three of them are currently eyeing me. But I'm not going there, not yet. I need a couple more drinks to drown out the memory of Dove and get over the anger I feel at myself for my dirty little kink.
I can’t stop thinking about her. She's always on my mind. Always there, tugging at every heartstring, reminding me no other woman will ever live up to her. Dove. Fucking Dove. She ruined my life.
"Hello, handsome."
A slim arm snakes around my shoulders and a woman slips on the bar stool next to mine. Her eyes are calculating, and her lips have a cruel smirk to them. I take her in slowly, enjoying every inch of her body clad in a tight white dress, with her tits pushed up and tempting me. She's a brunette, with caramel-honeyed straight locks and her makeup done to perfection. I can smell her daddy issues from a mile away. After all, she came up to me like a lamb to the slaughter.
"Hello, to what do I owe this pleasure?" I raise my brows as the bartender slides my drink in front of me. "Weren't you just sitting over there with your friends?"
"Couldn't take my eyes off you, to be honest." Confidently, she calls over the waiter and orders some wine. I don't offer to pay. Let her play her game – she's the one who made the first move, after all. Once she has wine in her hand, she smiles again, long nails clinking against the glass. I imagine her lips shaping the word Daddy. I imagine her eyes rolling back as she comes. "And I noticed you were looking at me, too."
I wasn't looking at her, I was looking at all of them – it doesn't matter which one comes home with me tonight, as long as she's willing to be fucked. So, I stay silent, my eyes devouring her as she pretends her confidence isn't failing. I fucking love playing them like this. It makes me harder than anything else. That moment her face falls, her sweet brokenness, the moment she's just a desperate little girl again, looking for Daddy's approval.