Page 10 of Dirty Sweet Daddy

"Like that?" she asks innocently. But there's nothing innocent about the way she's moving against me, the subtle roll of her hips that makes my cock throb painfully.

"Kate," I warn, my hands tightening on her waist. "Be serious."

"I am serious," she says, turning her head slightly so I can see her profile. "What if the attacker is much bigger than me? Like you are."

The comparison sends a fresh surge of blood to my groin. I'm fully hard now, my cock a rigid line pressed against her ass. There's no way she can't feel it.

"Then you use leverage," I manage to say, my voice strained. I adjust my grip, moving one hand to her arm to demonstrate. "You use their size against them."

I guide her through the motion, showing her how to break the hold, how to create space, how to strike. But she's not really trying. Every movement just brings her into more contact with me, her body soft and pliant against mine.

"What if I don't want to get away?" she whispers, turning in my arms so she's facing me. Her hands come to rest on my chest, small and warm through the thin material of my tank top.

I should push her away. Should end this lesson right now. But I'm frozen, trapped by the heat in her eyes, by the way her tongue darts out to wet her lower lip.

"Kate," I say, her name a warning and a plea.

She rises on her tiptoes, bringing her face closer to mine. "Show me what to do, Daddy," she breathes, the word soft and deliberate and devastating.

My cock jerks violently at the word, pre-come dampening the front of my shorts. My hands move of their own accord, sliding down to cup her ass, lifting her slightly so her core presses against my hardness.

For one dangerous moment, I consider taking her right here on the mat. Stripping those tiny shorts off her, spreading her legs, and burying myself in what I know will be tight, virgin heat. Making her scream "Daddy" for real as I fuck her into oblivion.

The image is so vivid, so consuming, that I nearly do it. Nearly give in to the madness that's been building since she moved into my house.

But some last shred of sanity pulls me back from the edge. I set her down abruptly, stepping away, putting much-needed distance between us.

"That's enough for today," I say, voice rough as sandpaper. "You…you did good."

The lie tastes bitter on my tongue. She didn't learn a damn thing about self-defense. But I learned something—learned that I'm hanging onto my control by a thread so thin it's practically invisible. One more second pressed against her, one more breathy "Daddy" from those soft lips, and I'd have had her pinned beneath me, propriety and promises be damned.

I'm in serious fucking trouble.

seven

. . .

Kate

I stare at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, lips swollen from biting them, cheeks flushed with frustration. I was so close. In the gym, pressed against Lucas, feeling how hard he was against my ass, I thought he was finally going to break. When I called him "Daddy" in that breathy voice, his entire body went rigid with need. His hands tightened on me, pulling me closer for one glorious second before he shoved me away. I'm tired of the back and forth. Tired of him looking at me like he wants to devour me whole one minute, then acting like I'm made of glass the next. It's time to end this game once and for all. If he wants me—and I know he does—he's going to have to admit it.

I strip off the sweaty sports bra and shorts, step into the shower, and let the hot water cascade over me. As I soap my body, I imagine Lucas's large hands replacing mine—rough palms sliding over my breasts, down my stomach, between my thighs. My nipples harden at the thought, and heat pools low in my belly. I've wanted him for so long, dreamed of him for years. Since I was sixteen and he came to my birthday dinner—the only one who remembered, who bothered to show up when my father was "too busy" with work and women.

Lucas had looked at me that night—really looked at me—and for the first time, I felt seen. Not as James's daughter. Not as a responsibility. But as me. Kate.

I've been in love with him ever since.

I finish my shower quickly, wrap myself in a towel, and pad back to my bedroom. What I'm about to do requires courage, and the right outfit. I choose a simple sundress—white, flowy, innocent on the surface but sheer enough that my silhouette is visible when backlit. No bra. No panties. Nothing between us anymore.

I find Lucas in the living room, nursing a whiskey, staring at the wall like it holds the answers to the universe. He's showered too, hair still damp, wearing worn jeans and a black t-shirt that stretches across his broad chest. My heart hammers against my ribs, but I don't hesitate. I walk straight to him, taking the glass from his hand and setting it aside.

"Kate—" he starts, but I shake my head, cutting him off.

"No more running," I say firmly. "No more pretending."

His jaw tightens, but he doesn't look away. Doesn't flee. Progress.

"I need to tell you something," I continue, standing before him, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body. "And I need you to actually listen."