by Lena Little
But damn, how incredible did she feel on my lap earlier? Not to mention I know she felt my need. She knows she’s tearing me apart, she has to.
Not only is she the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen but her mind is off the charts. Must be all that reading that fuels her imagination and has her brain synapses constantly sparked. You can see the intelligence in her eyes, the way those baby blues are so bright, so alert, so full of life. The girl is smart as fuck.
And I call her ‘girl’ to her face for a reason. I need to constantly remind myself that’s exactly what she is, despite being legal in the eyes of the law.
Just like my business with her father, we don’t deal with anything that can find its way back to minors. No drugs, no weapons. We stick with things like gambling, and adult men. We leave women and kids out of the equation entirely.
But I can’t leave her out of my life equation any longer, because I know one plus one doesn’t equal two. It equals at least five, as in five children. And at least five billion as in the amount of times better my life will be with her by my side. What good is all the money in the world if there’s no one to share it with, no one to come home to or support and to receive support back from?
And who gets all this money when I eventually die? Yeah, Layla would be fine as her father’s only child, but I don’t want her to have to wait to take over the fortune we’ve amassed. I want her by my side to help me spend it on enjoyment and to even help me grow the business.
At her age, she clearly understands trends and technology better than I do. With her help we could grow the business exponentially, while simultaneously do the same kind of growth with that beautiful belly of hers, keeping her constantly pregnant with our children.
I never in a million years thought I’d experience these kinds of feelings, but with Layla, they’ve become a reality. I need her in all ways, and I need to become a better man to have her.
Then again maybe I am crazy. Maybe a life in the underworld is my destiny and risking everything for her, including my friendship with her father, is a pipe dream. Maybe it’s just a fantasy that she even wants to be with her dad’s best friend and to involve herself for one second with a man who’s got blood on his hands. She’s better than me, plain and simple, and she could easily find an accountant and settle down in the suburbs and live the white picket fence dream.
But another man putting his hands on her would be my nightmare, and I wouldn’t dream of allowing that. Ever.
A rumble from deep in my chest echoes through my Range Rover, my feral need for her reminds me that there’s no way I can even try to rationalize not pursuing my desire, my everything, her.
She will be mine.
3
Layla
The next day
I lean back in my seat at my dining room table and extend my hands as high as I can, stretching my arms.
“It’s getting late, huh?” Dan asks.
“Yeah, but I’m good to continue.”
“Just a little longer, then?” he suggests, his eyes moving from mine to the window and then back. He’s been acting a bit nervous all night. Nervous but somewhat excited too. I guess boys my age are just that way. It’s part of being eighteen and in your first semester of college, or community college to be exact since my dad doesn’t want me studying far from home.
A bright light pans in through the front windows and then disappears, letting me know dad has just arrived home, pulling up in our horseshoe driveway.
“Sure,” I agree with Dan.
“You know what. I just remembered I have some things I need to do tomorrow. I better get going. We can work on this project later, maybe at the library?”
“Ok. Sure,” I agree, a bit annoyed at Dan’s wishy-washiness and also asking me all the questions. Can’t he just make a decision or a suggestion without waiting for me to confirm, to be the boss? I appreciate him wanting my input, but he can just say what he wants and if I have another idea I’ll voice it then, like an adult.
“Is there a way to leave out the back?” his wobbly voice asks.
“Only if you want to climb the fence, part of which is electric, and that’s after you outrun two Doberman Pinschers.”
He mumbles something incoherent as he stuffs his supplies into his bag without a care for organizing any of it. “Okay. Front it is. Cool. Gotta run,” he says, moving quickly to the front door which has me cocking my eyebrow inquisitively.
Dan’s already clearing the side of the entryway into the kitchen as I stand. Before I can say ‘hold your horses’ or ‘let me show you out at least’ I hear a thud and quickly move to see what happened.
“Need to keep an eye on where you’re going, son,” a deep voice warns out from the entryway to the house and I know immediately it’s not my dad’s.
Just as I turn the corner I see Logan reaching down and grabbing Dan by the back of the shirt and literally yanking him up to his feet. “Thank you, sir.”
“Best be going. It’s late and I’m not sure how you managed to last this long, let alone even get inside the house.”
“Yes, sir. I won’t come back and bother you ever again. I promise.”
Dan fumbles his way around Logan and dashes out the door, which Logan has yet to shut.
I look out the window and see that it’s a Range Rover, which belongs to Logan, and not the G-Wagon, which my dad drives, that’s parked out front. Considering they’re both matte black and big SUVs it’s an easy mistake to make.
“I interrupt something between you and your little boyfriend,” Logan questions. “And how come I didn’t know you were seeing someone, were being the keyword because whatever you thought you had with him is over.”
“First of all, he’s not my boyfriend. Second, you can’t tell me who I can and can’t see.”
“I can and I will and more importantly I can tell any young shits who come sniffing around here to beat it. As you can see that approach is even more effective. Hell, I didn’t even have to say anything and he promised never to come back. At least you picked a smart kid.”
“I said he’s not my boyfriend. He’s gay just so you know.”
“Body like yours and he might change his mind,” Logan says, his eyes raking up and down my length.
“Where’s dad?”
“He drew the short straw. He’s the one picking up the delivery.”
“When’s he coming back?”
“When it’s picked up.”
I can see I’m getting nowhere so I try a different approach. “You can’t tell me who I can and can’t have over. It’s my house.”
“Paid for by the business that your father and I own and operate, a business that involves a lot of risk by the way.” He moves in closer, his big body dwarfing mine and I feel my panties moisten. Logan’s thighs are like tree trunks and his chest looks like one of those oak barrels, the kind of whisky he likes to drink is aged in. “It’s my job to make sure you’re safe.”
“Who says I need protecting?”
“I do you little brat.”
My body freezes at that word. There’s just something about it that reminds me of the Lena Little short stories I read on my Kindle. And I know where those stories often lead, and how steamy they can get. I’m more than ready for life to imitate art.
His dark gaze stays locked on me, his body mere inches from mine as the heat from his massive frame warms the entire area we’re occupying. I go to suck in a breath through my mouth, but my throat catches and I get no oxygen, no relief. It’s as if his presence and his authority has sucked all the air out of the room, and in addition to not being able to breathe now, my head isn’t getting enough oxygen to form coherent thoughts.
“No more guys over to the house. No one at all for that matter. You want to meet people you meet them in public places like coffee shops and parks. Understand?”
“No, I don’t understand. I’m eighteen years old and I’m an adult. You’re not my dad and you’re not my boyfriend, so what you say doesn�
�t carry any weight in my home.”
“You wanna see some weight,” he threatens, lifting his hand and looking at his palm before turning it over. “One swat with this across your ass is more than enough to get you to fall in line and comply.”
A shot of electricity shoots through me and I’m ready to be even bolder, even brattier…ready to mouth off to him to see if he’ll actually carry through, but I know Logan isn’t a man to be tested. He will put actions behind his words and he’ll do it swiftly. And if he says he’s going to spank me hard that’s exactly what he’ll do.
My body trembles and I squeeze my mouth shut, knowing this is my best option right now.
Until it isn’t.
“You wouldn’t spank me,” I test.
Out of nowhere, Logan’s hands extend forward and he grabs me by the waist, picking me up and moving me to the side like a bag of feathers as he walks right through where I was just standing and into the kitchen.
I hear the cork of the whiskey bottle and the gurgling sound of it being poured into a glass. A second later the cork squeaks back on and a few seconds after that I hear the bottom of the glass meet the table.
The sound of a chair dragging across the floor is followed by the creek of a man too big for that chair sitting in it.
“Get your ass in here, little girl, and bend over my knee. You do not talk to a man that way.”
“You can’t make me.”
The sound of the chair being kicked backward and then skidding across the tiles is followed up by heavy footfalls from Logan’s desert boots.
I need to run, but my feet are rooted to the floor…until he scoops me up and tosses me over his shoulder, again like I weigh nothing.
“Put me down!” I demand.
“Oh, I’m going to put you down, little one…right where you belong. Over Daddy’s knee.”
4
Logan
I exhale roughly as I sit back down in the chair in the kitchen. Half of me is angry at Layla because she let a stranger who we hadn’t vetted inside the house. And the other half of my anger is because she got sassy with me, giving me lip.
But in reality, I couldn’t be angry with her if I wanted to, and I’m glad she gave me a reason, an excuse, to do what I’m about to do.
On the other hand, she needs to understand that no other boys her age, or men in general, are ever going to do anything with her as far as I’m concerned. She thinks people are nice because she’s attractive but those little bastards want in her pants. I don’t care if they’re gay, straight, or what they are…I’m the only man for her and she should be spending time with me from here on out, especially with her father out of town.
The thought of Eric being gone makes the corner of my lip turn up as I squeeze my free hand tight and then release it, preparing to place it firmly on her perfect globes. It’s time to make it abundantly clear to her who she belongs to. Me.
“What are you doing?” she protests, kicking her feet up and punching at my legs while I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone, just to quickly verify the kid did in fact leave and the gate locked behind him.
I get a quick confirmation via the streaming app on my phone, rewinding it just a few seconds to confirm the footage of him disappearing from this place forever. Good.
I hold down the power button, not wanting any interruptions, and once the phone’s screen goes black I toss it on the table. My arousal is so damn strong I feel like there’s a fucking beast inside me begging to be set free. That does not bode well with the idea of me easing her into things, giving her a talking to, and being sweet and gentle with her. Fuck it. I know she wants this just as badly as I do and there’s no way I can even think about anything other than doing exactly what I need to do…and sweet and gentle have nothing to do with it.
“Stop squirming or you’re just going to make things worse for yourself,” I order, licking my chops as I stare at her ass in those apple bottom jeans she’s wearing.
She hesitates, and finally complies with something I said, and it’s only then, with her body stilled, that I feel just how hard my cock is. The fucker jerks violently in my trousers and I feel her stomach clench, obviously aware of the steel rod pressing up against it from below.
I need to jerk my fly down and bury all my thick inches inside her, but not yet. First, she must learn to obey.
Grabbing the back of her jeans I raise her ass a little higher in my lap and I swear I feel her lower back stiffen so she can get it even higher.
“Good girl,” I growl. “But that’s not going to make me discipline you any less. You had your chance to comply and you passed it up…multiple times.”
I’m not sure if I want her squirming, fighting me, or not. At this point, it doesn’t matter. All I want is her. Every last part.
But as much as I want to do things my way, and I will, I need to make sure she’s on board. This isn’t about to be a one time thing and she needs to know it. This is forever, and once my hand connects with her backside there’s no going back. She needs to be all in or nothing.
And nothing isn’t an option, but still, I’m going to play nice and offer it to her.
“Baby girl, it’s time to teach you some lessons your father never did, nor ever will. He’s as much as a brother as I’ve ever had, but we both know he doesn’t have much in the way of testicles. You might be able to walk over him, but not me. And that includes the way you talk to me and who you have over at your house.”
“It’s not my fault I have a project for college and I invited over the guy I’m doing it with. The library is closed and I’m not sitting in a coffee shop for hours on end. Not to mention if I was at a four-year university we wouldn’t be having this conversation in the first place. And my dad does have balls by the way, because he’s the one who forbade me from going to a college out of town.”
“That wasn’t your dad that didn’t allow it. It was me.”
“You? How can you…” Her words trail off as she remembers her dad will do anything I tell him, although I don’t try to run him over. I present the options and make it clear which is the best outcome, and keeping Layla close is always the best outcome.
Now that she knows more she could easily try to continue the conversation forward with this guilt trip, trying to make me feel bad about guiding her life in the direction I choose. But she needs to remember this isn’t a conversation at all. And I need a way, any way, to touch her. She needs to understand that her safety falls under my watchful eye. And no way in hell am I ever letting anything happen to her.
“Tell me you understand why I’m doing what I’m doing,” I order.
“I understand, but I don’t like it.”
“It doesn’t matter if you like it or not. It’s for your own good.” I pause and she doesn’t object. “Now…tell me something else,” I growl, my voice dropping even lower.
“What?” she sasses back.
“Tell me you want my hands on you. Tell me you want me to smack this perfect ass of yours until the pain melts into pleasure. Tell me you want to look in the mirror and see my red handprint on your ass, knowing I’ve marked you, claimed you as mine.”
Her head looks up and back over her shoulder and she swallows hard. Her mouth drops open and I stare at those pretty, pink lips that are parted, but oh how I want to part them even wider, ramming my dick straight past them until I bottom out in her throat.
“Tell me,” I grunt. “But only if it’s true.” My tone is harsh, rough, and demanding, just like how I’m going to be with her. I’m not going to be satisfied until she gives me the answer I want, and not fully satisfied until she’s screaming out my name.
And not my given name. My earned name. Daddy.
“I want that,” she whimpers so softly I can barely hear. Her outstretched hands clench into fists as if she’s already bracing herself for my hand.
“Louder. I need to know for sure this is what you want because once this begins it doesn’t end. Not now, not ever. Once you become
mine you become mine in all ways. Always.”
She nods.
“Words, little girl. Daddy needs to hear you say it.”
My stomach tightens as she nods again and then finally gives me exactly what I was hoping for, waiting for. “Yes…Daddy.”
Her words have my balls drawing up tight and I want nothing more than to unzip my trousers, whip my dick out, and bury it so deep inside her neither one of us can tell where one ends and the other begins. But not yet.
I cock my elbow back and bring my hand up high, her face scrunching as she correctly anticipates what’s to come. I’m so damn ready to strike her ass I need to be careful not to do it too hard. The pent up energy inside me has my forearm muscles tight, like corded rope, and I don’t want it to snap like an anchor and send us both flailing out to sea, pulled under in a way we can’t control.
Because my control when it comes to her already slipped a long time ago.
My hand comes down and I make contact with both her tiny ass cheeks, my mitt so wide and big I engulf her backside.
A stinging sensation shoots through my palm as her back arches and her mouth opens even wider.
“Uh,” she moans and my cock gurgles, damn near erupting like a volcano.
I know it must hurt, but I can see from her reaction that the pleasure far outweighs the pain. There’s nothing I would ever do to hurt her. As a matter of fact, I’d go to the ends of the earth to keep her safe. But when it comes to her pleasure? I’d equally do anything because pleasing my princess is all that’s on my mind. Constantly. Because pleasing her is how I know I’m going to please myself. As an older man, I want to live my life through her eyes. Guide her through everything and keep her safe. And right now that guidance is wrapped up in teaching her that I always have her best interests in mind, no matter what she thinks or how strict I might come across.
And just like that my hand rises and comes across her ass again, and then, again and again, her jeans shaking from my swats which I’m careful never to deliver in the same spot twice.
