I shouldn’t want her. My life is way too dangerous, she’s much too young, and the cherry on top is the fact that this is my best friend’s daughter…despite how much I want to pop that cherry of hers more than I want anything else on the face of the earth.
And I know she’s untouched because I’ve made sure of it. When she was just a kid I put the word out to all the up and coming underworld figures that if they fucked with my best friend’s daughter they were dead. The last thing I needed was her being held hostage, used as a bargaining chip, or anything else that pulled her into the life her father and I chose.
If anyone were to even think of hurting her I’d rip their fucking eyes out and feed their bodies to a barn full of underfed pigs, who would make quick work of their remains, leaving no trail of the violence I’m capable of carrying out when someone tries to involve a woman in a man’s world.
But she’s not even a woman, or at least she hasn’t been all these years. She’s just been my buddy’s kid, but I swear something happened last month when she turned eighteen. It was a day I’ll never forget. The day her dad and I spared no expense, throwing her a lavish birthday party that would put Saudi royals with their oil money to shame, my entire world flipped on its head.
No longer was she just a bratty kid who was always off somewhere in the house reading books, no she became so much more. She was a young woman in a pristine white dress, and one I wanted to see with a smear of blood the shape of a rose petal after claiming that sweet flower between her thighs.
I didn’t even know what to do that day, leaving the party early after giving her all the things she’d asked for from the Disney store.
Now I wanted to give her something much more adult, something that she hadn’t asked for but still something she needed more than all the money or gifts in the world could never compare to.
A baby in her belly. Our baby.
I was dizzy the whole day, just as I am now. The feel of her tight little ass on my lap and doing it all right there in front of her dad has my head spinning.
What was I thinking? How in the hell did I let the animal in me almost come out right there in front of her father.
And why is it that I feel like I’m the one who does a better job of watching over her, keeping her safe, being her real…Daddy?
I jerk the wheel to the side and hit the breaks, skidding to a stop alongside the road.
I’ve only had a single drink and at six and a half feet in height and two hundred and fifty pounds of muscle, that equates to nothing. Yet I feel more intoxicated than I ever have in my life.
I’m in no condition to drive right now unless you consider driving my hips into hers.
I grit my teeth and look down at my lap, my need trying to break through my trousers. If a cop pulled up alongside me right now he could arrest me for carrying a concealed weapon, and a deadly one at that. Although all I can think about doing with my rock hard cock is burying it so far inside her, coating her womb in my seed, that she’s claimed once and for all.
By me.
“Mine,” I growl, my hands gripping the steering wheel so hard the leather cracks underneath my fingers.
But I need to get these thoughts out of my head because nothing is ever going to happen between us. Loyalty means everything to me, and I couldn’t risk my friendship with her father. I’ve got no family in the world with the exception of him and his daughter. Despite how much I want to start my own family, with her and only her, I can’t.
Can I?
What would Eric, her dad, even do?
Probably nothing, but still…just taking his daughter like that right out from underneath his nose and not caring at all what he thinks would literally be like castrating the man in the town square, Roman emperor style.
And despite how much I want Layla as my princess, I just can’t. At least not yet.
But if not now, when?
In my eyes, she’s always going to be too innocent, too vulnerable, and my thoughts about her are always going to make me feel like a dirty bastard for wanting her.
But as she continues to fill out and become a woman will this internal dialog, this constant struggle, finally di
ssipate? When she’s curvier and older will it be right?
What isn’t right is wasting another single day of my life, another breath, without making her mine. But considering I’m thirty-eight and she’s eighteen that’s just not a good look. Even though I know I can protect her from awkward glances and whispering gossip, no amount of blows or harsh words I send back for the criticism other people throw at her is going to make up for the way those words and looks would make her feel inside. As much as I want to lock her away and make her mine, I don’t want her living in a golden cage. She’s like a young bird and she needs to spread her wings and fly. I’m not here to clip her wings, I’m here to help her reach new heights, to soar to levels she may not even know she’s capable of…yet.
That’s what a father figure does, right? And sure as hell her biological father isn’t offering that encouragement, support, or even interest in her life. At least not as far as I can see and my eyes are glued to everything Layla.
I can protect her from the illegal activities her dad and I are involved in. Hell, I already do. But with her by my side, I need to go clean, give her the life she deserves and one she, and our children, can be proud of.
I shake my head from side to side and check the side mirror, pulling back onto the road. I need to get home and blow off this excess energy that’s always ready to combust every time I’m in her presence. I need to throw fists at my punching bag or do something physical to keep my mind off the fact that I’m not doing anything physical with her.