Page 10 of Power Play Daddies

“Yeah, but you like it,” I shoot back, carrying her indoors to the sofa.

“Maybe,” she says, her voice soft.

I lower her onto the cushions. “Round two?”

Her smile turns wicked. “You read my mind.”

And just like that, we’re back at it, laughing and touching like we’ve got all the time in the world.

CHAPTER THREE

Daisy

I blink awake,my head pounding faintly, body sore in ways that bring flashes of the last few hours to the forefront of my mind.

My throat’s dry, my mouth tastes like regret and tequila, and the sofa beneath me smells faintly of leather and cologne.

I shift, and the movement sends a dull ache between my thighs. God, my body feels like it’s been through the wringer, but in the best way possible.

A low groan rumbles beside me, and I turn my head to find Beau sprawled out next to me, his arm slung over his face, his chest rising and falling with steady breaths.

“Late,” he mutters, sounding like he’s just woken up, too.

I push up, wincing. “Where’s the bathroom?” My voice is raspy, like I’ve been smoking a pack a day.

His eyes crack open, dark and lazy. “C’mere,” he says, sitting up and stretching like a damn lion, muscles flexing everywhere. Before I can argue, he’s got me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“What the hell!” I slap his back, but he just chuckles, his hand landing on my ass with a light smack that makes me squeak.

“Relax. You’re fine,” he says, carrying me upstairs through what looks like the hallway of a freaking magazine spread. Everything is sleek, modern, expensive. I knew he had money, but damn.

He stops in front of a door and sets me down gently, hands lingering on my hips for a second before stepping back. “Bathroom,” he says, smirking like he knows exactly what I’m thinking.

I slam the door in his face, locking it for good measure, though I doubt it’d keep him out if he wanted in. The bathroom is bigger than my entire apartment. I splash water on my face and glance at my reflection, taking in the messy hair, the smudged makeup, the faint bite mark on my collarbone.

God, what am I doing?

When I come back out, I find him leaning against another door, shirtless, his hair messy in a way that makes him look unfairly good. His boxers are low on his hips, and I can’t stop staring.

“I should get going,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest, suddenly hyperaware of the fact that I’m wearing nothing but panties and his oversized T-shirt.

He tilts his head, smirking like I’ve said something funny. “Or…” he drawls, taking a slow step toward me, “you could stay. We fuck some more tonight, and then tomorrow morning, I’ll fuck you again before you leave.”

The bluntness of his words sends a bolt of heat straight through me. “You’re ridiculous.”

He grins. “I’m honest. It’s still the middle of the night. And judging by the way you’re looking at me right now, you’re tempted.”

I hate that he’s right. I hate even more that my body reacts to his words, my belly tightening, my thighs pressing together.

“This is such a bad idea.”

He steps closer, his hands finding my hips, tugging me gently until I’m pressed against him. “Yeah? Doesn’t mean it’s not a good time.”

I glare at him half-heartedly. “You’re trouble.”

“You like trouble,” he says, his lips brushing my jaw.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” I snap, but it’s weak, and he knows it.