Page 3 of Dirty Sweet Daddy

I jerk my head up, startled. Kate stands in the doorway of my office, wearing leggings that mold to her thighs and a loose sweater that slips off one shoulder. She's holding two mugs, steam curling from the tops.

"Brought you coffee," she says with a small smile. "You've been working for hours."

I clear my throat, quickly closing the university website. "Thanks."

She crosses the room and sets the mug on my desk, then perches on the edge, one leg swinging slightly. Too close. The scent of her—vanilla and something uniquely Kate—washes over me.

"What are you working on?" she asks, glancing at my screen.

"Just a contract for a new client." I take a sip of coffee, burning my tongue but welcoming the pain as distraction. "How were your classes today?"

"Fine. Boring." She sighs, tucking a strand of honey-blonde hair behind her ear. "The teacher keeps assigning these stupid reflection papers. I think he's just too lazy to grade real assignments."

I grunt in agreement, trying not to stare at the curve of her neck where it meets her shoulder. Trying not to imagine pressing my lips there, feeling her pulse flutter against my tongue.

"Lucas?" Her voice shifts, suddenly tentative. "Are you okay? You've been so…distant."

I grip my mug tighter. "I'm fine. Just busy with work."

"Is it..." she hesitates, biting her lower lip. My cock twitches at the sight. "Is it weird? Having me here?"

"No," I say too quickly. "It's fine. Your father wanted you here."

She flinches slightly at the mention of James, and I instantly regret it. Stupid fucking move, Hale.

"I just mean—" I start, but she cuts me off.

"It's okay. I know this isn't what you signed up for. Taking care of some kid."

"You're not a kid, Kate," I say, the words escaping before I can stop them.

Her eyes flick up to mine, something unreadable there. "No, I'm not," she agrees softly.

The silence stretches between us, taut with something I refuse to name. She's so close I could reach out and touch her. Pull her into my lap. Show her exactly how un-kid-like I think she is.

"I should get back to my essay," she finally says, sliding off the desk. "Oh, before I forget—what do you want to do for my birthday? It's this Friday."

Her birthday. The reminder sends a jolt of heat through me, followed immediately by crushing guilt.

"Whatever you want," I manage. "It's your day."

She smiles, bright and beautiful. "I'll think about it." She pauses at the door, looking back over her shoulder. "Thanks again, Lucas. For everything."

When she's gone, I let out a ragged breath and press the heel of my palm against my throbbing cock. I'm pathetic. A grown man getting hard from a simple conversation with a girl half my age. My best friend's daughter, for fuck's sake.

I tell myself I just have to survive until she goes to college. A few months of living like a monk, keeping my distance, being the protector she needs. Then she'll be gone, building her own life, meeting boys her own age. The thought makes my jaw clench, jealousy coiling hot and tight in my gut.

The university website is still open in another tab. I stare at it, imagining Kate walking those distant campus paths, laughing with friends, falling in love with someone young and whole—someone who isn't me.

It's the right thing to do. Let her go. Let her live.

But in the darkest part of my mind, another scenario plays out: Kate on her knees in front of this very desk, those big hazel eyes looking up at me, her soft lips wrapped around my cock.

"Please, Daddy," she'd whisper, tongue darting out to taste me. "Let me make you feel good."

My hand moves to my zipper before I realize what I'm doing. I yank it back like I've been burned, disgusted with myself. The guilt is crushing—she's too young, too pure, too trusting. She's grieving and vulnerable and looks to me for safety.

I’ve got to get her shipped off to college. Otherwise, I'm terrified of what I'll do. I already dream of her calling me "Daddy" while I fuck her throat, while I bend her over this desk and claim her tight little pussy, while I mark her as mine in ways that would make her real father roll in his fresh grave.