Page 7 of Praise Me: Pilot (Praise Me Daily #6)

Haylo

“ C harades? ” I echo in disbelief.

Joel tosses his hotel key and wallet onto the dresser, drawing five harried fingers through his dark hair. “That’s what the other parents and their kids are doing right now, isn’t it? I’m filling in for your parent this weekend, so…” He sets his bristled jaw. “Let’s do the same.”

Just when I think I have Joel right where I want him, he pulls back. Regroups.

Why can’t he just be considerate and let me seduce him already?

“I don’t need you to heal my broken heart, Joel. I’m fine.”

The room is bigger than I expected with a small kitchenette and separate bedroom, off to the right.

The windows are open and overlooking downtown Nashville in the distance, the hotel parking lot below.

We’re still standing in relative darkness, the streetlamps outside combining to fill the room with a gentle glow.

Joel brightens the space slightly now by turning on a lamp and sitting on the couch in the living area.

“You didn’t seem fine when we were outside your apartment,” he says.

“I am,” I insist, horrified to hear my voice crack.

His chest dips, as if it’s hard for him to see me upset. “Come here, angel.”

“I don’t want to be comforted.” My knees feely wobbly out of nowhere, as if I’ve been ignoring the pain of abandonment, distracting myself with my plan to seduce Joel.

But at the slightest hint of sympathy, the avalanche of emotion is cascading down the side of the mountain. “If you comfort me, I’ll cry.”

“You can cry.”

“No.”

He sits back and watches me patiently. And I don’t exactly know what happens.

One second, I’m standing there with my arms crossed, and the next, I’m stumbling toward Joel, his image blurred by a veil of tears, falling into his lap like a marionette with severed strings.

He arranges me sideways on his lap, tucking my head beneath his chin, and he holds me while I sniffle and sob, my tears soaking the front of his dress shirt.

“He told me once that I was ruining his life,” I whisper.

Joel jerks beneath me. “What?”

I nod, wiping my face on the material of his shirt. “Once, when I was fifteen, he was getting ready to leave on a date and I started coming down with the flu. He had to cancel his date to take care of me. ‘Why are you trying to ruin my life, Haylo?’ I can still hear him saying it.”

“He didn’t mean it. No one could ever mean that about you.”

“I hear it in the back of my head every time I fail. Every time I get a bad grade or don’t get invited on a girls’ night.

Those words get in deep, you know?” I swipe at my eyes.

“They make me wonder if I was the reason he was never around. Like maybe if I’d been someone else, someone better, it wouldn’t have been such a hardship to be my father. ”

“No. Oh God, don’t think like that. He fell short, not you.

You’re not supposed to be perfect growing up and parents are supposed to guide you through that.

They’re supposed to take joy in being the one you depend on.

Otherwise, the fault lies with them.” He strokes my hair and kisses my forehead.

“You got the flu, angel. People get the flu.”

“I’m a miserable sick patient. I—”

“Cry?”

“Yes. About the unfairness of the universe picking poor me to have a stuffy nose. I’m very self-centered when I’m ill. What about you?”

A beat passes. “My father was strict when I was growing up. An Air Force guy like me. He expected me to always be tough. Sickness wasn’t supposed to slow us down.

Not when there are men going into battle, fighting wounded.

” I sense a wry twist of his lips. “My mother used to send him on errands when I got sick, though, so she could sneak in and feed me soup. I let her, even though I could do it myself. She needed it more than me.”

“I like to think my mom would have done that, if she’d stayed alive.”

“She would have.” He rubs his lips against my temple. “And someday in the future, you’ll feed soup to your daughter and when you see how fulfilling that is, you’ll know the fault was not with you, Haylo.”

His words impact my chest. Hard.

Along with the reality of what I’m doing.

I’m seducing this man…and my actions could ruin him. Not only would I wreck his relationship with my father, but Phil has a lot of power at the airline. Seniority. Sleeping with Joel could potentially jeopardize his job.

He doesn’t deserve that, does he? Look at him trying to comfort me.

He’s a good man.

Still, he came to parents’ weekend knowing my father was lying about his whereabouts and plans. Joel lied right to my face, didn’t he? Telling me that Phil was stuck in Thailand because of the weather? Sure, that was before we’d met and…bonded.

Oh no, we have bonded, haven’t we?

Trepidation slithers into my middle. I’m getting closer and closer to this man who lied to me, in the same profession as my father. And he’s yet another man who is trying to keep me at a distance. Isn’t he?

Ignoring the whisper in my head telling me Joel is better, different…kind of wonderful , I remind myself of my plan, wipe away my tears and sit up in his lap. “Actually, I think charades sounds like a fun idea.” I slide off his lap onto the floor at his feet. “I’ll go first.”

It’s not hard to slip back into seduction mode when I look up at him from the floor.

He’s six foot three inches of hard, lean male.

A more powerful build than I’ve ever seen in real life.

Thick, sturdy thighs. Shoulders for days.

A posture that proclaims him a watchful and capable king.

I can still feel the sting of the spanking he gave me down in the lobby, brief though it was.

I loved it. I loved him touching me in public to warn off the other men.

I loved his hand locked around my throat earlier at the lake.

He can comfort me, soothe me, stand up for me…

But he has a darker side, too, doesn’t he?

It’s time once again to coax it to the surface.

And succeed with my plan to solve my daddy issues, once and for all.

I turn sideways in front of Joel and fall forward on my hands and knees. “Movie.”

“You’re…”—his Adam’s apple rises and falls—“going to act out a movie title?”

“That’s how charades works, isn’t it?” I sing, sliding my knees wide on the carpet and tilting my hips up as far as they’ll go.

My skirt is so short, I know my entire backside is on display, along with the black silk strip of my thong.

I shake my bottom a little under his unholy regard, watching his hand clench the arm of the couch, the bulge rising to prominence once again between his legs.

Watching him closely, I jolt forward with a whimper, as if there is a man thrusting into me from behind.

The way I’ve seen it done on the few occasions I’ve watched porn.

I do it again, again, again, pretending to be taken roughly from behind, crying out, making myself sopping wet in the process.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he pants, raggedly, rubbing his sex through his fly. “Are you acting out a porn?”

“No,” I answer innocently, taking another imaginary thrust, squealing in my throat. “It’s a feature film, silly. Take a guess.”

“Stop.”

“Nope, that’s not it.”

“ Haylo. ”

“Fine. It’s Deep Impact . Haven’t you seen that one?

” I climb to my feet, though my legs are decidedly unsteady.

Whose wouldn’t be when this man is visibly leashing himself from pouncing?

He’s going to do a lot more than spit on me this time.

I can sense it. He just needs another push or two.

“I’ll do another one,” I announce smoothly, holding his gaze while I slowly, slowly slide my thong off from beneath my skirt, stepping out of it and leaving it on the floor.

His eyes are already pure black by the time I strip off my tank top, revealing my bare breasts, perked nipples that are still red from his treatment earlier tonight.

“Any guesses yet?” I purr, turning around to face the opposite wall, reaching back to lower the rear zipper of my skirt, tossing my hair to look back at him when I let it fall.

Absorbing his visceral reaction to seeing me fully naked for the first time.

Hungrily, those golden eyes race over my curves, the supple swells of my backside, the shadowed valley in between.

His fist is bobbing inside of his pants now, masturbating to my naked body, and slickness pools among my flesh seeing him like this.

In pain over me. Overwhelmed by what I’m doing to his sex.

“No guesses?” I breathe, turning around to give him a full frontal—and he grits his teeth, growling loud enough to be heard at the opposite end of the hallway. “It’s Striptease . Don’t you remember that one? With Demi Moore.”

“Cover that pussy up before I bite it.”

Goosebumps lift all over my arms, neck, my tummy constricting with excitement of the unknown.

Is it supposed to be bitten? Will I like that?

“One more movie. If you can’t guess it…” I fall onto my knees in the V of his outstretched legs, skimming my palms up his big thighs, listening to him hiss like a tea kettle when I reach his belt, unbuckling it without breaking eye contact.

Next, I pop the top button and his head falls back on a shudder, giving me a nice view of the corded muscles straining in his throat.

“Don’t do it, Haylo,” he says, ripping his hand out of his waistband, slapping both of them over his face. Dragging them downward. “Fuck, angel.” His hips seem to lift involuntarily, that ridge growing right in front of my face. “Please don’t break me like this.”