Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 52538 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 263(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52538 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 263(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
Freakin’ hotter than Vegas in July.
The A/C blows against the sheen of sweat on my skin and I fight off a shiver.
“Too cold again?” Dietrich flashes those eyes my way, a symphony of every shade of blue in Monet’s palette with subtle, wise creases at the corners that make me swoon. He taps the thermostat button that serves my side of the Mercedes’ back seat, raising it a few degrees and taking the chill out of the air.
Since we started driving, he’s adjusted the temperature for me seven times. He has a spooky sixth sense about my climate control needs and it’s sort of comforting but also a little creepy.
I can’t help thinking he’s got a read on my x-rated thoughts with that hint of a sexy smirk and the way the lines at the corners of his eyes deepen.
When we met, in those first seconds, I felt as though he was assessing me. Cataloging every detail.
Watching my breathing, the twitch of my fingers, the dilation of my irises and the temperature of my skin. The way my nipples sprung to life. I was sure he could sense the dampness in my panties.
Mind reading is impossible, of course. I mean, there are hit shows here in Vegas with those mentalist types and they are incredible but surely Dietrich doesn’t possess that level of skill when it comes to reading me.
And my smutty romance thoughts.
I wonder how thick his dick is? It looked quite respectable behind his slacks yesterday in the living room…
He coughs, covering a chuckle.
“What’s funny?” I snip, running my hands up and down the goosebumps on my bare arms.
“Funny?” He sniffs, covering his mouth with his sexy man hand.
“Yeah. You chuckled.”
“Nope. I don’t chuckle.”
“You smiled then.”
He shakes his head but I catch his lips in a distinct upturn and jab my index finger his way.
“Right there!” I sputter on my own laughter. “You smiled, right there.”
“No, I didn’t.” His face returns to a solemn mask.
“Well, you did.”
“Impossible. If I smiled, I’d know. Probably crack my cheekbones.”
“Impossible is right.” I snort. He’s stoic and stern but I sense a layer of softness under the overbaked crust. “As in, you’re impossible. Daddy.”
It’s as though all the air in the car disappears and I’m left gasping as Dietrich’s fingers tighten on the edge of the leather seat until his knuckles turn white.
You went too far, Hannah. The Daddy thing is just for the event, not for right now.
“I was just practicing,” I manage, unsure how far I’m supposed to take this roleplay and embarrassed that I may have tiptoed into the forbidden garden. “I’m sorry, I think I’m confused about how this all works.”
My cheeks flame as my insides churn.
“I should have been more clear. If you are confused, from now on, that is my fault, not yours.” Dietrich’s low and thick tone hints at some dark emotion I can’t pinpoint but the dampness between my legs intensifies. “You are my daughter from this moment forward. You need to feel that in your heart and down into your bones to make it believable. As well, just like a good daughter, you will do as I say. Are we clear?”
With that eerie ability to read my emotions, Dietrich reaches over and clasps my hand, sending a wicked wash of heat through the center of my soul as I manage a nod.
“Daddy will be difficult sometimes, little one. But I will always have your best interests at heart.”
The conviction in his voice confuses me. Is he playing his part or is he a straight up psychopath?
“Yes, Daddy,” I mumble with a clawing lust tearing at my insides and pulsing in my most sensitive, sopping wet parts. This daddy-daughter roleplay is heady and intoxicating in ways I didn’t predict.
“Now,” he starts, squeezing my hand. “I think we need to have a talk and I want you to face me while we do.”
He unbuckles my seat belt, gripping my shoulders and giving me a half turn in the seat to face him.
“Is there something I should know about the job that wasn’t in the folder?” I swallow the golf ball sized lump in my throat as his blue eyes rove over me, his features flexing with a hint of the growl that seems perpetually rumbling in his thick chest.
He shakes his head as his jaw squares, and I’m wedged between my girlish fantasies and the reality that this man could be a serial killer and I’m serving myself up with a smile.
“No. Forget about this being a job. You are my daughter. I made that clear, didn’t I?”
I nod, tugging my knees tight. There’s something about him that convinces me he knows what’s best and maybe, just maybe, I should dive into this headfirst.
“Yes, you did. I’m sorry.”
“Good, now, I have put this off for too long. But, it’s time. There are things you need to know. Things a daddy needs to teach his little girl. Special things.” His dark voice whips through me like the winds of a summer storm.