Page 11 of Praise Me: Pilot (Praise Me Daily #6)

Haylo

N ot today. And not for the next sixty years.

As Joel walks me out of the sorority house, leading me back in the direction of the pool, my hand locked inside of his, I’m fighting an internal battle.

My Daddy issues are winning for now. The fear of letting another man take up so much space in my life, giving him so much power over my feelings.

I’d be crazy to do that. I’m not going to do that.

I’ll fight to protect my peace and keep myself in full control of who I allow to come in and out of my life.

I’m not going to cry ever again because a man doesn’t see my value.

Or because he leaves me lonely, over and over. On holidays. Birthdays.

No. I don’t want that. I won’t have it.

And yet, I crave the clutch of Joel’s hand around my throat.

I crave his mouth and attention and dominance.

The way he looks at me is unlike anything I’ve experienced.

It’s more than lust, though there is a lifetime supply of that.

But there’s…pride and tenderness, too. When he holds me, touches me, I’m the Holy Grail and he’s been searching for me his entire life. I’m not temporary. I’m the end game.

For once, I go searching for my emotional baggage, riffling through the contents, wanting to remind myself why a relationship with Joel is a no-no.

But we’ve reached the pool now and my sorority sisters are gaping at my hand, which is joined with Joel in an iron grip that allows no one to question his ownership. Of me.

I’m not supposed to like that, right?

Being a prize. The possession of a man.

But then I hear his words whisper in my ear.

I’m sorry for rushing this, angel. You deserve better than to have your innocence taken by an animal.

You deserve the fucking stars. Something about his reverential treatment of me makes his possessiveness feel good.

Right. Healthy. I grow toward it, like a flower seeking the sun.

“Okay…” crows Monica, her gaze absorbing the sight of me at Joel’s side, probably looking disheveled.

Who wouldn’t after a gorgeous man’s kisses brought her to the brink of an orgasm?

I’ve never even been kissed with tongue.

I used to think that made me a prude or a loser, but no, if Joel’s confident, thorough tongue is the only one I ever taste, I am definitely the winner.

“Now that we have everyone, we’re going to begin the chicken fight battle.

Daughters, drag dear old dad…or whoever is filling in for dad… into the pool and await the matchups!”

I squint up at him, endorphins rushing in my veins to find him already looking at me, like maybe he’s wishing he’d gone through with punching my V-card in the bathroom.

My sex muscles give a happy, little cinch and my body turns toward his, as if compelled.

“I don’t think you can swim in jeans. Did you bring trunks? ”

A line moves in his cheek. “I did. I think I dropped them when I saw you in a thong.”

“Oops. Can’t wait to see you in them.”

“Can’t wait for you to see me out of them.”

I glance over at the pool and the grassy, surrounding area.

Several fathers are changing into the trunks with the aid of a towel around their waist, disrobing undercover and yanking their shorts on afterward.

Wanting to help Joel do the same, I spot a stack of white towels on one of the lounge chairs and start to walk in that direction, but I’m drawn to a halt when he snags my wrist, dragging me back into the heat of his body.

“You were told not to leave my side, young lady.”

A twisted thrill curls in my tummy. “I just wanted to get you a towel.”

Without responding, he walks me to the stack of towels and nods at me to pick one up, which I do, before he escorts me to an unoccupied spot on the other side of the pool, where a pair of discarded swim trunks lays in a heap.

He uses a firm hand on my shoulder and makes me sit on one of the loungers, while he stands in front of me, blocking the pool from view.

I’m given no warning when he removes his shirt.

“Wow,” I whisper, my mouth going dry.

Even though I haven’t seen Joel shirtless, I knew he was strong.

But I wasn’t aware of the physique that was responsible for that strength.

He’s somehow thick and toned at the same time.

Big biceps and sculpted pecs have my jaw on the floor, to say nothing of the Air Force tattoo spanning the length of his collarbone.

The removal of his shirt has caused his hair to muss and now I’m wishing he’d punched my V-card in the bathroom.

Because I don’t like the interest he’s attracting from my sorority sisters.

They’re gaping at him. As if he’s theirs to look at!

Well, he’s not.

“Are you okay?” Joel asks, raising an eyebrow, while fashioning the towel around his waist, those abs shifting in the sunlight. “You look pissed.”

“I’m not.” My high-pitched giggle says otherwise. “Maybe I’m just trying to look intimidating, so the other teams know we’re about to kick their butts.”

“She has a competitive streak,” he drawls, flashing me a grin.

God, he’s so hot. I knew he was hot, but it’s, like, way too obvious right now.

I arch my back and bite my lip, thinking his attention on my body will make me feel less…

jealous? Is that what I’m feeling? Whatever I’m doing, it works, because when he drops his jeans, the buckle hitting the brick patio, his erection strains out through the opening of the towel.

“Could you do me a favor and wait until we’re alone to tease me?

” His voice is as dark as sin. “Somewhere I can get on my knees and worship that wet pussy.”

“I just like having you focused on me,” I whisper, honestly. “Only me.”

He leans down to take hold of his trunks, drawing them on beneath the towel, his heated gaze glued to my bathing suit bottoms. “I can’t focus on anything else.

” He tosses the towel aside and narrows his eyes on me, looking thoughtful, as if he’s dissecting my confession.

“Not all pilots are the same, angel. There will be no other women for me, now that we’re together. Period.”

“We’re not together.”

Joel ignores my weak protest. “While we’re on the subject, there won’t be any other men for you.”

“Would you worry about that?” I ask, genuinely curious. “Or is it only the women who have the trust issues?”

“I can trust you and still worry.” He cups the side of my face, stroking his thumb across my bottom lip. “I’d be an idiot not to worry about someone trying to steal you. If you belonged to someone else, I’d be waging a fucking war against him.”

I’m getting lost in the rasp of his deep voice. “Mmm.”

“The fact that I’m not an idiot and would do anything to keep you means you’re going to be spoiled rotten. You’re going to stay well fucked and well groomed, smiling because you’ve got your man’s sperm swimming in your tummy.”

Am I on the verge of hyperventilating? “You want to get me pregnant?”

“No. I’m going to get you pregnant. It’s just a matter of when.”

I stand up abruptly, but my legs are wobbly, and I stumble into Joel, his strong arm banding around my back to catch me against his chest. I open my mouth to…

to what? To tell him I don’t want to be spoiled and pregnant?

Because there’s a chance that might be a lie.

His firm and unwavering plans for me, for us, give me a sense of security I’ve never had.

Even if this non-relationship is moving at the speed of light.

Anyway, before I can say a word, a whistle is blown from behind me in the pool.

“All competitors, please take your place in the water.”

Joel palms my backside, giving it a firm pat. “After you.”

Still reeling from Joel promising to impregnate me, I execute a pencil jump into the pool, grateful when the cool water envelops my feverishly hot skin.

Joel, however, is right behind me, raising my body temperature again just by surfacing with wet hair, pool water running in tantalizing rivers down his incredible chest.

The girl beside me isn’t even bothering to hide her perusal, her cataloging gaze slithering all the way down his happy trail.

Take a picture, Candice. It’ll last longer.

I’m very close to making that snappy sentiment out loud, but there’s no need, because Joe turns me to face him in the water, tilting my chin up and looking me in the eye.

Wetting his lips. Stroking my hair. And just…

staring. Staring at me without cease or distraction.

The fear that I have to compete for his attention ebbs slowly and eventually vanishes.

“Good god…” he mutters, his palm smoothing back my hair.

“Just when I think you can’t get any more beautiful, you’re surrounded by blue…

and the water makes your eyes pop like emeralds.

” He shakes his head, like he can’t believe I’m real.

“You keep distracting me like this, we’ll have no chance of winning. ”

“Oh no,” I flirt, my whole body flushed with pleasure as it brushes against him. Teasing. “But first prize is a gift card for the local fro-yo shop.”

Slowly, slowly, his hand drops from my hair, vanishing into the pool and gripping my sex beneath the water. “I’ve already got first prize right here.”

“First up! Brewers versus the Kilmartens!”

Out of necessity, I turn around, giving Joel my back.

Before I combust. Or do something crazy, like climb him in front of every guest at this pool party, in order to reach his mouth and more of those soul-searing kisses he gave me in the bathroom.

There is a chicken fight playing out in front of me between two clumsy but good natured dads, their daughters perched precariously on their shoulders, pushing each other and squealing, but I’m not really processing any of it, because Joel’s fingers are slipping down the front of my bikini bottoms…