Page 5 of Bartender Daddy’s Girl (Daddy’s Girl #11)

JUDGE

I almost feel dirty stealing another kiss.

I might be spry for someone who just crossed forty, and I’m sure as shit strong enough to take on the world, but Carrie has to be half my age.

But I like to believe that age, after a certain point, is just a number.

She’s old enough to make her own decisions.

She can choose to walk away. Yet, she’s letting me stroke her cunt and kiss her anyway. Wants this as much as I do.

We’re both practically begging for it, without having to say the words. That’s not really the truth, though, is it? As soon as Daddy slipped out of her mouth, my fate was sealed. So was hers. Like a switch flicked on in both of our heads at the exact same time, solidifying whatever comes next.

I walk her over to the bed while we kiss, and as her legs hit the back of it, they part further for me. I take advantage, slotting my hand tighter against her pussy, fingers gliding through the spot getting wetter and wetter with every movement.

With a gentle nudge from me, she falls onto the bed. I follow closely, never moving my hand from between her legs, keeping it there to make my mark … stake my claim. The bed squeaks beneath us as I lean my weight onto it.

Moving my free hand down her shoulder and over her breast, my body buckles forward. They’re bigger than her sweater gives them credit for. But I’ve got my sights on a different target.

As if she can read my thoughts, the moment I start working her belt loose, Carrie pulls her sweater overhead and discards it.

Underneath, a tight blue tank top stretches tightly around the firm, perky mountains on her chest. Her cheeks turn a light rose pink as a smile stretches wider and wider on her face.

“You’re fucking stunning,” I say to settle her nerves, though there’s no real reason for her to have any around me.

To prove it, once I’ve undone her belt and pulled it through her jeans’ loops, I yank my shirt off first. She stares at me in awe for a moment, either because of the tattoos or, more likely, the scars they cover.

I let her look as long as I can hold myself back, before returning to the task at hand.

Carrie removes her shirt when I slot my fingers in the waistline of her pants.

She eases back onto her elbows, half lying down while watching me work.

But there isn’t much more to do. One tug on her jeans and they fly down her thighs and fall off her ankles.

She gasps at the sudden freedom of being mostly naked, apart from her bra, but the sound hits a wall of my heartbeat thrumming in my ears at the sight of her glistening pussy.

I swallow a mouthful of drool at the sight.

Ravenous and desperate for a taste. Noticing my lustful desires, Carrie slowly kicks her leg further to the side, then the other, exposing her pink, clean-shaven sex in full.

“What are you going to do to me, Daddy?” she asks, nibbling on her lower lip.

There it is again. A word I’ve never associated with the bedroom, yet it drives me crazy to hear it. Like every synapse in my skull fires at once, in perfect unison, sending a tsunami of pleasure straight into my cock.

“Daddy wants to have a little taste.” Little is the wrong word. I want an all-you-can-eat buffet of Carrie’s pussy. Feast on it, drown in her delicious nectar, make her mine in ways words can never manage.

She eyes me under her lashes, gulping down a hard swallow as her neck bobs her head up and down. Ready, eager, stuck in just as much trouble as me.

My kind of girl.

I latch onto her ankles and sink my head between her legs. If I had any strength left in my body, I might’ve taken this slow. Treated her like the delicate princess she is. But that’s long gone now. I need this, her, and nothing’s going to stop me.

My mouth finds her engorged clitoris, and she howls out in delight. All that mounting tension from a slow strip, to finally receiving the first lick of pleasure. Music to my fucking ears.

And they don’t stop, either. One lick follows the next, lapping at her delicious, sweet, and salty nectar. Swallowing every last drop I can get on my tongue. Frantically lashing in every direction for more.

While I make out with her pussy, I slip a finger against her hole. Carrie’s slickness coats it in an instant, and I tease her opening with long circles. She howls out, body writhing, making her grind harder against my face.

“Fuck, Carrie, you taste so good,” I mutter against her dampness. A statement more for me than her.

She responds with a rapturous squeal. Too far gone to find the right words.

I slide the first finger inside her. She’s so fucking tight around it, I almost stop myself from adding a second digit. But if she’s going this wild from a simple touch, one more will send her over the moon.

Still lapping at her bud, I glide my fingers in and out, rolling them side to side as I go.

Her hands snap to my head, and she clutches onto handfuls of my hair.

Under different circumstances, it would probably hurt.

But feeling the explosion of her first orgasm against my face mutes any feelings inside me other than sheer bliss.

Her grip loosens, and she crumbles back, and I take it as my window to move this forward. Kissing her thighs, hips, and tummy, I crawl my way up her body while tactically shedding my pants. Carrie swings her arms over my shoulders, her body jerking the sensation of my lips against her skin.

But I notice a moment of pause on her face as I slide on top of her, cock in grip and ready for the main event. I stop it at her entrance, waiting for her confirmation or denial for what comes next. I might have taken charge, but she’s in control of this situation.

Nothing happens without her say-so.

“Is it going to hurt, Daddy?” She asks, nervous and timid. The voice I expected to hear when she first walked into my bar.

The question catches me completely off guard.

“What do you mean, baby girl?” My brow furrows.

“It’s just . . .” She looks at me like she’s about to confess something dire. “I’ve never done this before. I don’t know what to expect.”

“Never done this befo—” It hits me hard while I’m trying to ask the question. “You’re a virgin?”

I pull myself onto my knees, finding it impossible not to drink in her perfect body while I hover over her.

She nods, almost embarrassed to admit it.

“Why didn’t you say something before?”

With the taste of her still lingering on my tongue I pause.

“Because I want it?” She speaks so close to a whisper.

And she’ll have it. God knows, I’ll give her everything I can.

But not like this. Not in a room above my bar. It has to be better.

Special.

“We can’t do it here.” We’re so close, and I can see the yearning want burning in her baby blue eyes.

“Why not?” She pouts, and my heart flutters in my chest.

Daddy’s gonna have to punish his bratty little girl if she keeps this up. “Because a girl’s first time has to be special . . . at least that’s what they say.”

“But this is special,” she fights, sitting upright and burying her face against my chest. She kisses along my shoulder, neck, and up my ear, desperately fighting for us to go on.

“It could also be so much better,” I put my foot down and pray she accepts it. I won’t be able to stay strong forever.

“Fine,” she says with a huff and falls back onto the bed.

“That’s my girl,” I smile and collapse next to her.

This, whatever this is, just got a hell of a lot more interesting.

Sprawled out, spent and sweaty, Carrie lies half naked across the bed with one arm and one leg coiled around me, her head resting over my heart.

She’s quiet now, and it makes me long for the sounds she was belting out not half an hour ago.

More than that, I feel my muscles straining from fighting themselves to hold back for round two.

I can’t blame them, not after that announcement.

She’s a virgin.

Am I the first who’s had the honor of touching and tasting her? Wringing orgasmic ecstasy from her writhing body.

While my mind rationalizes taking things slow, my body refuses to listen. My cock hasn’t stopped throbbing from the first time we kissed, and it’s only gotten worse with her admission.

I don’t just want it. I fucking need it. Her tight virgin cunt suffocating every inch of me. Bathing in the sounds of ecstatic pleasure bellowing out of her while I take her innocence and make her mine for good.

Forever.

Fuck. Get a hold of yourself.

A nice thought, but I’m way too far gone to listen.

“I bet all of these have a ton of stories,” she says, tracing the tattoos on my chest.

“Some of ‘em. Others are just there because I was young and thought they looked cool,” I say.

“Will you tell me about them?” She rests her chin against my chest and looks up at me with her big, blue eyes.

“Sure,”

“What about this one?” Her fingers move over my arm, tracing the length of a snake’s body down to the head on the back of my hand. She stops over its exposed fang.

“A sign of loyalty to a crew I used to run with,” I say. A lot of good my loyalty has given, seeing as Frasier and I are the only ones left.

“Ah, so you’re one of the bad boy types?” she snickers. “No wonder you gave the sheriff such a hard time.”

I just smile and shake my head.

“Nah, not quite. Larry’s just doing his job, but it’s not his fault I’ve got a distaste for the law.” And here it is. Time to make a choice that will alter the rest of my life, for better or worse.

Still, I won’t overplay my hand. We haven’t leaned into the hard questions yet, and Carrie has to ask them for me to answer. I won’t hold back if she does. It’s only fair to her that she knows the man she’s getting in bed with, literally and figuratively, I suppose.

“Then what is at fault?”

“Playing both sides,” I say, buying myself a little more time before I tell her everything. “Cops like Larry believe what they’re doing is right, but they don’t know what they’re really protecting.”

She doesn’t interrupt me, but her brows waggle with curious anticipation for more.

“Used to be a soldier. I was good at it, too. So good, they gave me a special title and job.” I turn away from her, unable to hold eye contact with what I’m about to say.

Though I won’t share the dirty details, I don’t want her peering into my soul while my mind runs down memory lane.

“They called us black site specialists. Sent us all around the country, sometimes the world, to places you wouldn’t expect to have any life at all.

Made us get information out of folks no matter the cost or consequence. ”

That’s as far as I’m willing to go. Any more, and I might taint her. But it’s not her perception of me, I’m worried about. It’s how hearing the horror stories from what I’ve done would turn her against the world as a whole.

“So, I left,” I change subject quickly, hoping she doesn’t return to it.

“And with a newfound hatred for those on the upper echelon of society, I joined a crew of dubious criminals who wanted to make things right. They could’ve too, if it weren’t for a raid that got me locked up for a year and a half. ”

“Oh shit,” she says, and cups my cheek reassuringly.

I like how warm it feels.

“With my history and service to the country, I got a light sentence. Wanted me to rejoin their fetid ranks, but I declined. That’s how Frasier and I ended up in Sugarcreek.

” I find the strength to look back down at her, only to see her eyes sparkling with more intrigue and interest than when we first started.

“But now you know mine, what’s your story? ”

She bites down hard, and her face turns to stone, the same way mine had when she asked the question.

At least I’m not the only one carrying baggage too heavy.

“Who says I’ve got a story to tell?” Carrie does her best to put on a brave face, but it crumbles with a whimpering sigh that follows her words.

“First time you walked through my door, you scanned faces rather than looking at the messy scene left in my wake. You did the same thing when you came downstairs. Either you’re looking for someone, or they’re looking for you.

” She winces at the second part, and I’ve got my answer.

But she doesn’t have to be afraid anymore.

Not while I’m protecting her. “And you arrived in a new town without so much as a carry bag. When you ran, you had to run fast. No time to stop and pack your things.”

I could go on, but I don’t. Either my point is made, or she won’t tell me. Either way, I’m here for support, however I can give it.

“Well, let’s just say you’re not the only one who’s run with the wrong crowd a few too many times.” Now it’s her turn to hide away while she speaks, staring off into the distance. Into a void. “But it doesn’t feel as bad in comparison.”

“Don’t let circumstances fool you.” I try to reassure her. “If it’s affecting you, it’s worse.”

Carrie’s breathing quickens, and she latches onto me tightly before she speaks again. I give her all the time she needs, stroking her crown gently to show my support.

“My ex-boss is stalking me,” she says, and with the first announcement, more information floods out of her in a stream of consciousness.

“It’s the reason I quit working for him in the first place.

Started with us bumping into each other in a grocery store and then the mall, then I started seeing him everywhere.

It got worse after I quit. If it wasn’t him, it was one of his henchmen following me around.

Tailing me through the city. I was never alone, never felt safe. ”

Red-hot anger burns through my veins at her retelling of what’s been going on. At how scared she sounds of the man pursuing her.

I bite it down, letting her speak. Holding my breath and counting to ten like they told me to do in prison. None of it soothes me, but it does stop me from launching off this bed and immediately hunting this fucker down.

“Something inside me snapped when I saw one of them yesterday. I was out responding to work ads, and he was just there. Standing next to his boss’s silver BMW with a sickly smile on his face, and I just ran,” she sniffs, fighting back against the threat of tears.

“I got on a bus and took it as far as it would go. Then another, and another, until I ended up on your doorstep.”

Geez. fate, or something, must be smiling down on her if she just happened to serendipitously stop in front of my door.

“And now you can stop running, Carrie.” I lean forward and press a gentle kiss across her brow. “Because I’m here now. And I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Even if it means making one more piece of shit disappear.