Page 22 of My Big Fat Daddy Issues

“Or I correct you.”

The words land like a brand. I watch the impact. She recoils and sways in a way she can’t hide.

“I don’t need—” She cuts herself off. Then, she tries again, softer this time. “You can’t just…decide that.”

“I already decided when I came for you.” My calloused palm finds her wrist. “You called. I answered. That’s a contract.”

“You’re not my dad,” she says, her snark undeniable.

“I’m the man who came,” I say, leaning in as the air gets hotter between us. “That makes me the one responsible for you.”

She fights the breath in her chest as she reaches behind her back to steady herself. The mug slips across the counter too hard, and a tiny splash sloshes over the rim. She flinches at the sound like she broke a rule.

She wants to please me. I can smell it on her. The need to be praised. To not disappoint the man that helped raise her.

“Careful,” I say as I push the cup aside, stepping even further into her space. “You’re shaking.”

“I’m not,” she lies. “You can’t just grab me and—”

What she doesn’t seem to understand is that I don’t grab. I touch. I place my palm at the back of her neck. The contact is weighted enough to steady and light enough to be refused.

She doesn’t refuse. Her knees soften. Her mouth opens on a sound that sounds suspiciously like a yes.

“I told you,” I say, my voice going low. It sends a shiver up her spine. “You live here, you live by my rules.”

“I don’t even know the rules,” she retorts, still standoffish but willing to be guided.

“Then listen,” I tell her, tilting her face the way I want it. “You answer when you’re called. You eat. You sleep. You speak with respect. You don’t push me to see if I’ll hold.”

“How will I know you’re holding unless I push?” she asks, rebellion coloring her words.

God, she’s fucking cute. I should smile, but I don’t. “You’ll know.”

She refuses to meet my gaze, defiant. The only sounds are the rain starting up again against the gutters and her ragged breath.

“Look at me,” I demand taking in that cinched in waist, the way her tits sit high on her chest making me salivate like a fucking dog.

She does as I say, her eyes connecting to mine, and it goes straight to my cock. There’s so much trust there, I vow to never break it, but I know what she really needs and that’s not just me, but a good hard fucking with my thick ten inches of meat that will give her the attitude adjustment she needs. .

“Say you understand you’ll do as you are told,” I say when she remains quiet.

She opens her mouth and closes it twice before she says, “I…understand.”

“Say you’ll try to be my good girl.”

A beat passes, like she’s considering whether or not to push back. Then, she says, “I’ll try.”

“Good girl.”

As soon as the words leave my mouth, her shoulders drop and her lips tremble. She leans before she knows what she’s doing. I don’t let her fall, my hold on her getting firmer.

“Now,” I say, electrifying the air around us, “about the tone.”

Her stare flicks down my body, then up to my face. I see shame and want mixing together. “Jackson—”

“Daddy,” I correct, soft and brutal at the same time. “Under my roof.”

She sways again and I’m so fucking hard my nuts are about to bust.