Page 6 of Rough Daddy (REAL DADDIES: Boone Brothers #5)

Five

Beau

T he same plate gets scrubbed for the third time while I try not to think about how Tessa's ass looked going up my stairs.

I shoved my hands into the scalding water meant to soak the dishes, to keep from unloading what feels like ten pounds of fucking sperm into my favorite boxers.

She's every teenage fantasy and dirty old man temptation I’ve ever had wrapped up in a bundle that should not be in my house.

The urge to chase her up those stairs and slam her against the bathroom door has my head pounding as hard as my balls. I’d fuck her so hard she’d have internal bleeding.

Fuck.

See? I can’t even think about fucking her without imagining how I’d hurt her.

What's a small-town mechanic like me going to do with Tessa Quinn anyway?

We’re both playing games, and there's no ending this with a win-win.

Still, I fucking know because I’ve never come close to feeling anything like this before: I'm balls deep in love with her. I brace my soapy hands on the edge of the sink.

My online obsession was one thing—I could talk myself out of the idea that this was someone real.

But now?

I’m completely fucked.

I have months of her content saved on my phone.

Screenshots of her smile. Videos I've watched so many times I could recite them word for word.

Videos where I've imagined that mouth wrapped around my cock, those perfect tits bouncing while she rides me.

She thinks I'm just some mechanic helping a stranded stranger.

She has no clue I've been obsessed with Tessa Quinn since long before she crashed into my car wash, all thanks to my brother Jack’s wife helping me set up my new phone and insisting I get an Instagram account like I’m fucking fifteen years old.

I grab the dish back out of the water and shove it into the rack so hard it cracks.

Shit, footsteps on the stairs. Even the sound of her walking makes me fucking hard.

"So.” She cocks her head like a cat. “Interesting hobby you've got up there."

She's leaning against the door frame, holding the pink vibrator I disassembled then reassembled yesterday, inspecting it with a smirk and a little giggle.

Christ, I want those hands on me instead. I want that giggle right in my ear. I want those dark eyes wide while I feel the tip of her tongue lapping around the head of my dick.

Fuck. No. I have to remember who I am. What I am. A fucking monster who destroys everything he touches.

"Gave yourself a little tour, I see?”

"Door was open, felt like an invitation. I enjoyed your notes. Diagrams. Battery life calculations."

I swallow hard. "Not what you think."

"What I think is that you've been doing a lot of research on how to make a woman come without actually touching her."

Fucking spot on, little cupcake .

Not just any woman, either. I've been thinking about making her come while she thanks me for teaching her all the ways her body produces pleasure. The only woman I’ve ever wanted to do anything like that with.

There was a time I thought I might be broken, but it seems I was waiting for the right person.

Tessa Quinn…

"Just trying to understand how they work."

"You buy sex toys to take them apart?"

"My brothers’ wives had some party in the guest cabin. Sex toy thing. My brothers found out, stormed in, dragged them out. Party lady took off like a bear was on her ass. Left all her shit. I have a closet full."

You belong to me now, Tessa Quinn .

That thought seeps into every cell in my body as I close the distance between us, watching her hold the vibrator in one hand and tuck a strand of her black hair behind her ear with the other.

"Interesting story." Wine scents her breath, a flush dappling her chest with pink.

I want to lick that flush, taste the wine on her tongue. I want to spread her thighs and bury my face in all that wet, messy goodness she’s keeping there just for me.

"Not a story. My mechanical brain got curious. Never had the chance to see how it would work in real practice.”

The admission hangs between us.

"Why don't you want to touch?"

There it is.

The question I've been dreading.

"I don’t have good impulse control. I’ve... hurt people." I stuff my hands in my front pockets to keep from hurting this barely-there girl, nearly two decades younger than me, who doesn’t understand the danger she’s in.

A shy smile curves her luscious lips. “A little pain might be fun.”

I shake my head. If there’s a God, He’s fucking testing me.

"I don't know how to touch someone without breaking them. But these..." I nod at the toy. "These can give you what you need without me fucking it up."

What I really want is to bend her over this counter and claim that sweet pussy with my cock, but a part of me still can’t quite piece together how to do that without destroying her.

For a long moment, she just stares.

"Show me." She taps the tip of the toy against my chest.

"What?"

"I want a demonstration. Show me what you figured out. Show me what you learned."

Jesus Christ.

The idea has my dick leaking cum. The image of her spread out on my kitchen counter, toy buzzing between her thighs while I tell her where to touch, how far to push it in…

"You're drunk. I'd be taking advantage—"

"I know exactly what I'm asking for." She steps closer, close enough I can count her fucking eyelashes. See the texture of her brown irises as they expand and contract. "I’ve never used one. I need… guidance."

This train is going off the fucking tracks.

Snatching the toy from her hands, I toss it into the living room and it falls with a thunk onto the wooden floor.

"That one's no good."

It’s way too fucking big.

No way am I letting her play with something that could take away that sweet cherry she's got saved for me. When I finally figure out how to get inside her without breaking her, I want to feel every inch of that tight cunt gripping my cock like I’m stuffing ten pounds of sausage into a one pound casing.

That’s not going to happen. I’d never forgive myself if I hurt her. But I have to keep the fantasy alive.

"Got other ones. Better," I say. The fire racing through my veins is burning me alive from the inside out. Her curves are calling to my hands, and if I’m not careful I’ll grab her, and then she’ll never want to see me again. "I’ll pick one. Then I’ll give you the fucking guidance you need."

Her breath catches. "Here?"

"Right fucking here. Don't move."

Half staggering to the back hall where I've got the rest of the shit the party lady left, I pull the closet door open with such force the top hinge pops from the frame. I fall to my knees and dig through the box until I find what I want.

I heave out a hot breath when I grab something that will work. It’s no bigger than my middle finger, straight, and doesn't look like a realistic cock. Because the only cock this girl is ever going to see is the one ready to snap in half inside my jeans.

Stomping back to the kitchen, I tear open the package and bark, "Kitchen counter. Now."

She stares at me for a long moment, then backs up to the granite island, skirt riding up soft pale thighs as she hops onto it. I salivate like a hungry wolf.

"Good girl," I growl as her knees squeeze together, a shy blush deepening on her cheeks.

Second thoughts, maybe? Too fucking bad.

My sweet little Instagram angel is going to put on a show. And this one’s just for me.