Dear Diary: Book 7 in the Love Daddy Series of Standalones Read online

  I want to nurture and protect her. Teach her. Guide her. Be her greatest champion and her anchor. I want to keep her safe, to lay the world at her feet.

  As I close the door and walk around the car, the stars are brighter than I remember them. Fuck. I already miss her, and it’s only been like ten seconds.

  When I slide into the seat beside her, she's watching me, a twinkle in her eyes that puts all the stars to shame.

  I reach across and pull her lap belt into place, clicking it into the buckle.

  “Do you think I need a seatbelt in the back of a limo?”

  “New rule, if you are in a car that’s moving, you will always wear your seatbelt.”

  My eyes rest on the swell of her tits and I salivate at the thought of getting them in my mouth.

  I’m admiring her profile in the lights from the street. Her hair shines even in the darkness, tousled dark waves brushing her shoulders as soft bangs frame her face, her green eyes adding a pop of color against such pale skin.

  The freckles adorning her little nose need to be cherished and kissed and loved, each little golden one of them. I'm destined to be the one who gets the honor of giving those gold specks the love and adoration they deserve.

  I'm smitten and that’s not even a word I think I understood before her.

  Certainly not a word I would have used.

  “What’s your address?” I bark, my usual demanding nature hard to curtail.

  “Sorry?” She startles, then recovers. “Oh, yeah, you need to get me home. An address would help…3245 West Argyle.”

  “Bronx?”

  She nods as tension builds in my core. She lives too far away and that area isn’t safe enough. Not for Chastity.

  “You got that, Clancy?”

  He nods as I clear my throat, trying to curb the edge in my voice. “When I lost you in the bar…I thought I might never see you again. Now, I have your address. I can find you whenever I want.”

  She pauses. “And how’d that make you feel? Thinking you may never see me again?”

  “Enraged.”

  “Wow.” She releases a little giggle-cough. “Creepy.”

  “Now, I’ll be able to keep my eye on you.”

  “Creepier. Super.”

  There’s a special lilt to her voice and coupled with the way she’s nestled in her seat I can’t fight the feeling I’ve found what I never thought I would. I press the button and close the privacy screen as the car starts to move.

  “Are you from New York? Do you live alone or with family?”

  She’s again taken aback by the edge in my voice but answers. “No. I’m just here for the summer before I start school in the fall.”

  “Where will school be?”

  “Just a little local college where my dad lives. Morgantown, West Virginia.”

  “Wow. You are a long way from home.”

  She shrugs. “I’m a long way from Morgantown. Wouldn’t really call it home.”

  “Why is that?” I hate the sadness that tips her words.

  “I don’t know. I went to live with my dad when I was twelve. Before that, I didn’t even really know him. My mom died, so…I went to Morgantown. Before that, I lived way up north in Michigan. Houghton. Where it’s winter ten months out of the year. That feels more like home.”

  She’s crushing my heart with her forced smile. I want to know more, I want to fix it all, but right now isn’t the time so I change the subject.

  “And what do you do for fun?” I don’t just ask, I demand, and I need to get myself under control before I scare her. I want to know everything, immediately, and I don’t know what patience is right now.

  She stifles a laugh between closed lips.

  The sound makes my dick twitch against the sticky cum spot inside my boxers. “What’s funny?”

  “You are. You’re asking like, regular, normal questions. But your tone is…” She bobs her head from side to side.

  “Harsh?” I guess.

  “More like an interrogation. Just waiting for the white light and the water boarding to start.”

  I fight a smile and peer out my window. I'm not used to laughing at pointed little jibes by girls half my age. But I’ve also never enjoyed myself more in a woman’s company.

  Most women from my past make sure to agree with everything that comes out of my mouth. They bend over backwards to please me, overworking themselves to exhaustion in the hope that they’ll be unforgettable.

  They become so intensely agreeable that it disgusts me. At every turn, they always show me their true end game. Getting their hooks into my wallet, not necessarily me. I don’t feel anything like that coming from Chastity.

  “So…again I ask…” Trying harder to keep the hardness from my voice. “What do you do for fun?”

  She fusses with her hands, squinting before answering. “Ummm, I bake. Among other things, but that’s my main hobby, I guess?”

  Fuck. She bakes.

  There’s two reasons that her answer only fuels my already-flaming obsession with her.

  One, my mother bakes. And when I say my mother, I mean the one that raised me. The other is the one that birthed me and no more.

  It is her passion, her joy. Cakes especially, but anything really. The memory of sneaking a slice of her red velvet, a specialty she perfected and still bakes for me when I get a chance to visit, makes my mouth water at the memory.

  Second, it’s just so fucking normal. People in my world don’t bake. They have staff to do that for them, or they eat out every night, or don’t eat at all because their balance sheets and daily reports or keeping themselves model-thin are more important than food.

  Chastity isn’t like anyone else in my orbit.

  She has me by the balls and the heart and with every word, she squeezes them both.

  Chapter 5

  Chastity

  Diary entry…Three Weeks Prior…

  Dear Diary,

  I just woke up in this dingy little apartment, alone with the sound of the neighbors fighting downstairs and the stale, mildew scent that seems to seep from everywhere.

  But you know what I can’t stop thinking about? Yes, of course you do. I had another dream, one of those dreams you have just before you wake up so it’s so vivid it’s almost real.

  And who was it about?

  Rhetorical question, Diary, because I know you know. This time, in the dream he called me from the kitchen where I was petting this crazy rainbow-colored cat. I was wearing this white cotton nightgown that felt more like silk. I heard his voice tell me to come watch a movie. Anything I’d like. Even Disney. He said, ‘It’s Friday, you can stay up late with me”.

  I picked a movie, in the dream I’m not even sure what it was, then went to sit on the sofa. It was the only furniture in the room besides this weird, tiny chair with a hole in the seat. He was sitting on the other end of the couch as we watched and I kept glancing his way, the room dark except for the colors from the TV.

  “Hey, baby,” he said. “Do you mind if we lay down? I’m pretty tired. I’ll just lay behind you, so you don’t have to sit on the floor. You can keep watching the movie. I still want to be here with you, I’ve just had a long day.”

  He shifted, pulling me down in front of him so we were sort of spooning on the sofa, his head behind mine on the pillow so I could feel his warm breath. I was frozen. Where our bodies connected, heat kept multiplying. As always, I could never really see his face, but his body was enormous. As well as his…you know.

  Then, his hand moved to my hip. And slowly, fingertips were pushing up the hem of my nightgown.

  “You feel so good. So warm.”

  I didn’t know what to say, then his fingers were on top of my panties. Tickling, brushing, circling.

  “Does that feel good, baby girl?”

  I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t speak.

  “Daddy wants to touch you. It would make me happy. You want me to be happy, don’t you?”

  Gah, Diary, it went on a
nd on. He was touching me, saying the most delicious things. Then his cock was there, pressing into me as he lifted my leg.

  “Daddy’s just going to put the tip inside you, princess. Just to see how it feels…be a good girl...”

  You know how it ends, Diary. How it always ends. He did put just the tip inside me, all the way to my cervix, that is. I woke up mid-orgasm, the faceless man in my dreams once again making me feel like there’s something wrong with me. I definitely have daddy issues.

  Well, the fighting downstairs has stopped and tomorrow is my first day at the internship. I brought some baking stuff with me, so it will be double-chocolate devil’s food cake with cream cheese frosting today. Then maybe a little nap and Daddy will come visit in my dreams again. I really am such a bad girl Diary. I need to find God.

  xoxo

  * * *

  “Who were the women you were with at the bar?” I blurt out in the moment of silence left after I told Jack I baked for fun.

  Immediately, my face heats. I have no right to ask him about who he chooses for female companionship, but that doesn’t seem to matter to me right now. I feel like a child, no filter or hesitation, just an intense need for an immediate answer to my question.

  “I mean… Wife? Girlfriend? Friend with benefits? Business partners?”

  He stays silent for a long moment, making my palms sweat as the limo’s speed increases, merging onto the freeway toward my place, reminding me we are leaving the sparkling energy of his world and moving into another. Not so sparkling.

  “None of the above,” he answers with a stare, narrowing his eyes, his tongue darting out to touch the corner of his lips before disappearing again. “In fact, it’s been years since I even had a date. Unless you count when I took my housekeeper to the Deadpool 2 premiere because she found out I was invited and threatened my life if I didn’t. But, seriously, I want you to know that. The part about me not dating, not my housekeeper. Do you believe me?”

  I take a few seconds, pondering my answer, but I know what I feel, so I do my best to not overthink it.

  “Yes. I believe you.”

  “Good girl.” He says those words again, making my ears ring and my nipples tingle.

  Magic words. Words that make me feel everything is going to be okay.

  I flinch at the memory of watching my mother, hooked up to the machines that even the doctors knew wouldn’t save her life, at best only extend it.

  I remember the social worker, asking me if I had any family, me shaking my head, holding my diary close, my only constant companion. Of finally learning who my father was when the courts placed me with him, a man who had never wanted anything to do with me, but who felt like it was his duty to take me on.

  He had options. He could sign away his parental rights and I would be placed into the foster care system. Or, he could take me in. He chose the latter, although at times living with him and his new family feels more like a foster home than it probably should.

  Heat rises to my face remembering that first day as I followed him up to the doors of his beautiful house, feeling like an intruder.

  He cared for me in his way, helped me finish school and hired private tutors to bring my grades back from the brink after they slipped with all that had happened. He’s more comfortable giving me money than time. Or love.

  But no matter who he is, he can’t protect me from the world. The world takes everything and doesn’t wait for you to catch up. It could take my father, it could take my internship, it could take my home. Nothing is promised.

  Now, here I am, and Jack only has to look me in the eye and use those words, good girl, and I’m ready to give him everything.

  How silly is that? Silly girl.

  As we drive, Jack asks me question after question. I don’t think anyone has ever been so interested in me. Except maybe my mom, but moms don’t count. Not like this.

  He stays away from deeper subjects like my family, which for now I’m thankful. There’s some sort of glittery fairy dust in the air between us right now, and I don’t want anything to dampen the sparkle.

  It’s going on two AM by the time we pull up in front of my apartment. Calling it an apartment is being generous, it’s an upstairs room in a run-down triplex with noisy pipes, peeling paint and a grouchy landlord who lives downstairs.

  There’s an awkward tension building, looking at the place I call home, compared to what I’m sure is a wild contrast to how Jack lives, judging by the limo and the private doctor.

  I attempt a smile as I undo my seatbelt, melting underneath the penetrating heat of his blue stare. His majestic size is more pronounced in the small space, and I can’t help staring at his eyes, as clear as the sky. So light. So blue. I’m ready to happily drown in them as heat surges between my thighs.

  “Thank you,” I say when I find my voice. “Actually…I feel like thank you is not really enough for everything you’ve done for me tonight.”

  “I’ve done what I wanted to do.”

  He’s lingering.

  “And, bonus for me, you haven’t killed me yet.”

  He coughs on a laugh and I squeeze my eyes shut embarrassment clutching around my throat.

  “I mean, It’s just, you could be a serial killer. Which doesn’t make a lot of sense since you took me to the hospital to be sure I was okay…so, that’s dumb. I'm sorry. That didn’t come out right at all. My mouth gets busy before checking with my brain.”

  “That sounds tempting.”

  Tempting. My pussy coils tight. You’re what’s tempting. His cock making room between my legs is tempting. His velvety tongue rolling over my nipples is tempting. His massive palm landing with a loud smack on my ass is tempting.

  Good girl.

  I draw a long breath, unsure what to say next. My heart catapults around inside my chest as I reach for the door latch and miss, slapping it around in a desperate search for a way out of my lusty embarrassment.

  Just when I think it can’t get worse, I find the handle and pull. Nothing happens. I pull again.

  Nothing.

  “Do these doors not work?” I chastise myself, pulling and releasing the handle over and over.

  “Stay put. I put the child lock on.” His voice is thick and low as he exits the vehicle and comes around to my side. When he opens the door, his gaze roves over me before he utters, “From now on, when you are with me, you will never open your own door.”

  Wow.

  He comes around to my side of the car, opens the door and reaches out a hand, and something deep in my core sobs at his beauty. He’s so unbelievably large. So…mouthwateringly male as he looks down. He’s the man from my dreams, even if my dreams didn’t know how to put a face on him. The silver flecks in his hair and beard make him sexier than when he was younger, I’m sure of it.

  I don’t want to get out. I want to stay close, I want to know what he meant by, From now on, when you are with me.

  Because, from what I can tell, this is where we go our separate ways.

  I exit the car, standing next to him, reveling in his heavy scent of masculinity and dirty dreams.

  I indulge in a brief mental image of his bare back, beaded with sweat, my nails scratching a path down the skin. His hips flexing as he squeezes his cock deep in my pulsating pussy…

  Daddy’s going to put a baby in you now. Hold on tight, angel...

  “Is everything all right?” He gives me a wary look.

  I’ve lost my voice. I’m sure he can sense my arousal. I brush a hand down the bodice of my dress and feel the nipple-bullets pressing out through the material.

  “Yes, it’s just you’ve been so great.”

  “I'm glad I was in the right place at the right time to get you home safe.”

  Safe. How did a stranger make me feel that way?

  I want to relish the comfort a little longer. It’s intoxicating. I want to be next to Jack for a minute more. A few seconds.

  Delaying the inevitable with a generous helping of desperation, in
spiration hits. “I have a thought.”

  “And what’s that?” he answers with sincere interest giving me the courage to continue.

  “I baked a new version of my red velvet cake. I can run up, get you a slice. I’d like to give you something as a token of gratitude. It’s not much...but it’s yummy, and you can give me your verdict.”

  I expect him to tell me thanks, but no thanks. All politeness and business. I know he has way more important things to do, even at two in the morning, than wait for my moist red cake with rainbow icing.

  And, yes, I used the word moist, because…cake, it’s okay.

  Instead, of giving me a reserved brush off, he shuts the car door and runs his fingers down my cheek.

  “I’d love a piece of your cake.” The way he says it sends a racing shiver down the center of my back. “On one condition.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You serve it to me personally. Right now, in your kitchen.”

  “Uh...” I twist my lips, trying to figure out a way out of him coming upstairs and seeing my insignificant and somewhat embarrassing living arrangement, not to mention my laundry strewn everywhere. “You want to come up…”

  “Lead the way.” His strong body is positioned toward the entrance of the house, his one arm extended forward while his other now rests firmly between my shoulder blades, guiding me.

  “I'm not really a pro baker. I just do it for fun. So, don’t get your hopes up.”

  “That’s alright. My mother baked. Red velvet is one of those cakes, people love it or hate it. I love it. It’s quite divisive, as baked goods go.”

  I whirl around. “Oh, man, mine will never be able to measure up to a mother’s cake.”

  “Don’t be so sure.”

  His lips pull up just a touch on one side, a flash of those perfectly-imperfect white teeth, and I reach into my purse and fumble for my keys.

  We ascend, and I turn my head to see his eyes locked onto my rear end.

  “Be careful on this next step.” I nod down tapping my right foot on the loose spot. “Stay to the left. The center is broken.”