Page 29 of Filthy Mouth (Obsessive Age Gap #2)

Poppy

Four Years Later

The lift doors opened, and I grinned when I heard Olivia squeal.

I kicked off my heels beside my bag and went straight into Olivia ’ s room.

The splashes told me it was bath time with Daddy.

I leaned on the doorway to watch them. Benedict had his shirt sleeves rolled up, a ridiculous heap of bubbles on his head as he amused our toddler in the tub.

My company expanded so quickly that Benedict stepped back from his role to care for Olivia.

If there was ever a man built to be a girl-dad, it was Benedict.

From the moment Olivia was conceived, he treated me like a priceless artefact.

He lasted a month—until one nasty morning blow job reminded him exactly what kind of relic I was.

My life was better than perfect since I had no contact with my family.

I never heard from any of them again, nor did we invite them to our wedding.

I bit my lip, remembering our wedding night in our crimson boudoir.

Daddy had dived in fist-first, and when I squirted, he drank from me as if it were the fountain of youth.

“ Mummy!”

“ Hello, darling,” I said with a smile and kissed my rosy-cheeked girl.

“ Hello, Princess,” Daddy murmured as I turned to kiss him, rubbing my hand in the bubbles on his head. “ Go and get ready. We just have story time, then bedtime, don ’ t we?”

Olivia groaned, just like her Daddy.

I kissed her again, enjoying her tight hug as I whispered in her ear. She giggled and rubbed her ear against her shoulder.

“ Tickles, Mummy.”

“ Sorry, baby. I ’ ll see you in the morning. I love you.”

“ Love you,” she echoed back.

“ Right, Olivia. Let ’ s get you rinsed off and wrapped in a warm towel.”

I left him to it. We had a day trip planned for Olivia tomorrow.

Magnus, Iris, their son and daughter were joining us.

I couldn ’ t deny that listening to Benedict and Magnus bicker was highly entertaining for the rest of us, but no matter how bad it got, they always laughed it off. Iris was more civilised, like me.

I climbed the stairs, staring at all of our pictures, pausing at my mother ’ s.

The wrong parent had died in that car accident, but every so often, I could feel her presence, and it gave me peace.

When I reached our bedroom, I stripped out of my clothes and shoes, tying my hair in a knot before taking a body shower.

I traced my fingers over my stretch marks with a smile.

Unlike Iris and Magnus, we ’ d decided not to have any more children.

There was no need; our little family was perfect as it was.

I quickly washed and rinsed off, towel-dried myself, and slipped on my black silk robe.

I left the bedroom and made my way upstairs.

The live-in nanny would be there if Olivia woke up while we were occupied. Our red room stayed locked these days—Olivia was an inquisitive three-year-old.

I stood on tiptoe and took the key off the hook, unlocking the door. Once inside, I hung the key on the hook fixed to the wall. I ’ d been looking forward to tonight since this morning.

I went to our jars of filth and dipped my hand into Daddy ’ s black jar. I swirled my fingers inside before plucking out a folded piece of paper. These were our fantasy jars—our little game every Friday night. I nibbled my lip before opening the paper.

“ Oh, yes,” I whispered to myself before sliding the paper beneath the gap in the door so Daddy knew who he was tonight.

I rushed to the toy cupboard, snatching out the things I needed before gathering up the clothes and underwear.

I paused, eyeing the black and red stilettos, then picked them up.

Once dressed, I went to the bathroom mirror and darkened my makeup to look the part.

The final touch was the crimson lipstick Daddy loved.

I ran a comb through my hair until it shone.

I perched on the edge of the bed and waited.