Page 21 of More, Daddy (Bluebell Bruisers #3)

CHAPTER

THIRTEEN

All that shit I said about yesterday? Fuck it.

Today sucks, royally.

I thought not seeing Cadence was cruel and unusual punishment, but today? She’s goddamn near everywhere. Under my nose, a touchable distance away, within reach while being completely, totally and utterly off limits.

She walked past my office to get to Leah’s, not even so much as glancing my way. Fucking brat. I plan to mention that later tonight, and further down the road, when she’s ready to meet, and she will get a swat on her cute little bottom for it.

Now, in the break room—where I’m eating lunch because I know she eats in here and I am just that desperate—she’s standing at the microwave, watching her meal spin in circles as it heats.

And I’m staring at the back of her ass, picturing my tongue going inside as she writhes beneath me, crying out, “ No! Daddy! Not there!”

“Dude, you said you wanted to have lunch with us,” Dean says, driving his elbow into Riley’s, which knocks noodles free from her fork.

I look between them, tipping my plate of food at a fifteen degree angle. “I am.”

Dean leans in, dropping his voice as Riley twirls spaghetti on her fork and goes in for the kill. “You’re staring at Cadence’s ass,” he whispers. Sitting back, he eyes me as he bites into his overly full sandwich, pieces of Doritos and lettuce sticking out of the end.

“I wasn’t,” I lie, “I was just zoned out. I happened to be looking in that direction.”

Riley rolls her eyes. “It’s okay, you don’t have to pretend she’s not hot just because we’re friends.” She pats my shoulder, spaghetti sauce in the corners of her mouth. “That’s nice of you, but she’s hot, we all know it.”

My face twists with confusion. “Why would I pretend she’s not hot?”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Dude, if you’re gonna be in the friend group, you have to know what’s going on.” He sets down his monstrosity of a sandwich, sips his tiny can of soda and steeples his hands beneath his chin. “Okay, Riley and Cadence are enemies–”

“Frenemies,” Riley corrects, licking sauce from her plastic fork before going in for a meatball.

“Right. They are forced to appear friendly because of the cheerleaders, but they’ve been frenemies ever since Cadence started bullying Riley for getting the JV cheer job.

” He peers around Riley to make sure Cadence hasn’t turned around.

“She thought she was a shoe-in, and then on top of that, Riley pulled one of the girls from Cadence’s team and brought her to JV.

It was… a whole thing. And after Riley recently got the Varsity Coach position over Cadence again… it kind of reignited.”

I blink at the two of them. “I knew all that. I had to sit through it when Jake told me months ago.”

Riley lowers her fork and wipes at her mouth with a cheap, paper napkin.

“You had to sit through it?” She shakes her head.

“Excuse us for being your friend and thinking you’d care about what’s going on in our lives!

” She slams her fork into her empty Tupperware but stays at the table, eying what’s left on Dean’s plate.

“That seemed like a big reaction,” I reply, watching as Cadence takes her hot food to the table furthest from me.

That must be by design. My bad girl. Making Daddy want her more than I already do, being such a tease.

A groan rumbles through my chest but I don’t let it out, and I do my best to ignore the erection happening beneath the table.

Just looking at her, knowing what we have, I’m sitting here in a room of twenty people with a raging hard-on. I almost still can’t believe it.

Dean shrugs. “I think she’s kind of mean right now because of the baby.” We both look at her burgeoning bump.

Riley smiles at me. “All I meant to say is that just because we’re friends and you’re friends with Jake doesn’t mean your allegiance should stay with us. If you wanna bang Cadence, you have our blessing.”

Dean chokes on his soda. “Bang? I think he just said he wasn’t even looking at her. Just… through her.”

“Actually,” I clear my throat, and Dean’s focus snaps to me. I pull my hands through the sides of my hair, and let out a bellyful of sighs. “What if I did date her? Would that be so bad?”

Dean blinks at me like I’m suddenly speaking a different language. One he doesn’t understand.

Riley, on the other hand, gives me her fist and we bump. “Cadence isn’t that awful,” she concedes. “And everyone deserves love and filthy sex.” She smiles then gets to her feet, cleaning up her lunch space before giving us each a head nod and a “see ya.”

Dean is still processing. “So online dating isn’t going well?”

I don’t know if I’m ready for Dean to know that I’ve been talking to Cadence online for months. In fact, I don’t know if that’s something anyone needs to know about. Because trying to tell the truth will result in lying, and I don’t want to lie, so I avoid the truth in total.

Nonchalantly, I shrug. “Cadence is here. I know her. She’s gorgeous. It’s easy with us. We get along really well.”

He blinks, looking over to the table near the window where Cadence is sitting, head down, EarPods in, focusing on her freezer meal. He looks back at me. “Yes, by the looks of it, the two of you are nearly engaged,” he deadpans.

The bell rings, and I haven’t eaten a bite of my—whatever the fuck it is I brought. See? I don’t even know what shit I shoved in my lunch bag because I’ve been in a Cadence Caine haze.

Hard. Aching. Wanting. Obsessing. Dreaming.

I wait to see if she’ll look my way, at all, even once, but after she dumps her meal in the trash and washes her hands, she says something to the science teacher, then leaves.

“God,” Dean says, stroking a hand over his heart. “That goodbye was emotional. ”

I roll my eyes. “We agreed we wouldn’t chat at school. You know, small towns.”

I head back to my office and write up a donation letter request to the local sporting goods store. Football players could use new laces for their cleats, and new pads, too. I don’t expect Bluebell Sports Authority to fund the entire team, but I have to ask. And asking gets my mind off of her.

Thirty minutes after I work on the last sore football player, I leave the training office and head home, unable to enjoy the tangerine sunset because all I can think about is Cadence, and how hard it was being around her all day today.

How hard I was being around her all day today.

She wants to wait until she knows if we’re serious.

I’m fucking serious.

And she’s gonna find out tonight.

I swept my kitchen floor. I started a load of laundry. I cleaned my boots, and brushed my hat. I washed my truck. I lifted weights in my garage.

And I did all of that with my laptop open nearby.

Waiting.

I can’t wait to make things official with Cadence, and on days like these, where she’s clearly busy, I’d love to punish her for not putting Daddy first.

I have yet to touch the erection I’ve been sporting all day, either. And that’s not helping my impatience.

Finally, as I settle into my couch with a rerun of Arrested Development playing softly in the background, Cadence messages me.

CCaine

My father was being a royal pain in my ass tonight

I’m sorry—I wanted to be online sooner

WDupont

If I had your phone number, this wouldn’t be an issue

I don’t see how having your phone number is off limits

Pretending to be a stranger to you today was fucking torture

What were you listening to on your EarPods?

I know I shouldn’t bombard her with questions, but I’ve been dying to talk to her for almost 24 hours now.

And being around her all day and having to pretend like she’s nobody?

I’m on edge, and once I officially lock it down with Cadence, and she’s mine and my little girl, I’ll have control of myself, as West and as Daddy. I will.

Right now, it’s pretty fucking hard.

Everything I’ve always wanted is right there, but somehow, painfully and cruelly out of reach.

Fuck it. I’m done with this.

But she writes back, and it lets me simmer for a moment.

CCaine

I felt the same way about seeing you today

Because phone numbers lead to texting, and if we swap numbers now, we’ll get completely lost in one another.

I lick my lips, nostrils flaring as the words echo through my brain. I’m already lost in you . Her reason almost doesn’t even make sense? My brain echoes… Fuck it. Now is the time.

WDupont

Cadence, I understand wanting to move slow and keep things private. I understand completely.

But what you don’t understand, my sweet girl, is this

I’ve been dying to meet you my entire life

And now I have

Trust me when I tell you that I know what I want

And I want you

It’s not just the kink. It’s everything we’ve shared for the last three months. I want you, and I want you now.

CCaine

I have to know that you’re serious in the long term, West…

I crack my knuckles, my heart galloping behind my ribs. She wants to know? I’ll fucking tell her, I’ll tell her before I lose my patience, find her house and drag her out by her cunt and make her mine.

WDupont

I want to put a ring on your finger. I want to fuck you bareback and ride your pussy until you’re pregnant, and when you’re round and knocked up with my baby, I’m gonna fuck you again, and I won’t stop dumping my cum inside you until we have a house full of our babies.

And every night, after they’ve been sung to, kissed, and tucked in, you’re going to get on your knees and crawl to your daddy and thank him for the beautiful family he’s given you.

You’re going to be my beautiful, brilliant, filthy wife.

My babygirl. Mine. Mine, mine, mine. Forever.

I’m quite literally panting when I get done typing, and though it’s heavy and promises so much—maybe too much for the three month mark in a relationship—I don’t care. I don’t reread and reword, I do not edit and I sure as fuck don’t hesitate.

I hit send, and lean back, eager for her response. When a few silent minutes creep by, insecurity wiggles up my spine, and I send a second message.

WDupont

I don’t want to push you but in this case, I think you should trust me.

The second message, however, never sends. Because I receive a message, in italics, the color of the tilted font slightly gray.

CCaine is offline.

Did I come on too strong, too fast? She’s fully aware that I’m a man who seizes control, and who craves her with every fiber of my being. I’m consumed, obsessed, burning with need and I can’t keep playing penpals online like some lovesick teen—I’m done waiting, desperate to claim what’s mine.

My stomach plummets at the idea that maybe I pushed her too far. Maybe she really wasn’t ready, and my control was smothering.

I wait for her to come back online, but she doesn’t, and I fall asleep on the couch, worried and waiting.