Page 68 of Wanting What’s Wrong

Five

Mina

I have no memory of him, but I know, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.

He’s a God .

Like, a literal God I think. The most talented artist from any century could not have created a vision so perfect. The heat between my legs will not quit . I wanted to climb onto his lap on the drive from the hospital here and dry hump him all the way into next week.

He’s got an iron will though. He settled my horny little—well, not so little—ass into the seat and buckled me in with a stern stare as blood jack hammered down into my lower level making the desperate tension there much worse.

Now, he’s been going in and out, emptying all the stuff from the car he bought at the hospital.

He fills the front doorway, carrying the plastic bag with my wet clothes from the hospital, looking as though he just stepped off the cover of GQ wearing a dark navy suit and white shirt with brown leather loafers and there’s a presence in the front of his slacks that deserves to be worshiped as well.

“I’ll be right back. There’s a delivery driver pulling in. I ordered a few more things for you. Sit tight, baby.” He tosses me a wink and I’m humming inside. My core clenches like a spring wound too tight and I whisper the word that’s driving me to the edge of dark bliss…

“Daddy. Daddy. Daddy.”

Jack returns, hands full of more shopping bags in a rainbow of colors, tissue paper sticking out of some, boxes stacked in others, and I pinch the soft flesh on the inside of my left forearm until I yelp, making sure I’m not dreaming.

I hiss on a wince and his eyes dart my way.

“Baby? You feel okay?” He drops the bags like they are on fire, lunging to kneel in front of me as I sit on the fluffy white sofa where he told me to stay after I finished my vanilla ice cream with chocolate sprinkles.

“I’m fine. Just a little…confused.” I decide to be honest. When you don’t have any memories, it doesn’t make much sense to lie about the things you do know.

“I know, baby. It will get better, but all you need to know right now is you are mine and I take care of what’s mine.

” He brushes the backs of his fingers over my forehead, his silvery-gray eyes narrowing like he’s checking me for a fever.

When he’s satisfied, he stands, nostrils flaring, the tent on the front of his pants only slightly smaller than earlier but the tension in his face is the same.

He looks like he’s carved from sex and all things sinful and wonderful. And, my God, he smells so good .

The scent is familiar, as it should be I suppose. The doctor said olfactory senses are some of the strongest and could elicit emotions even if I can’t connect them to a memory.

I should be crazy anxious with this amnesia situation but somehow, I’m confused yes, but I’m also relaxed and centered. Maybe I was always this way, but some niggling doubt tells me that maybe not.

Anyway, I’m gonna live in the now as they say, because I’ve got the hottest frickin’ football player of a boyfriend and my womb is throbbing for him.

Here’s the other thing that’s niggling at me. How is he with me ? I may not remember who I am, but I have eyes. I’m more cherub than centerfold. I mean, I’m cute. In fact, very cute, but I’ve clearly not missed many meals and don’t belong with a perfect specimen like Jack.

Jack. Jack.

His name makes me quiver. It’s like there’s a fire inside that’s engulfing me but all I want to do is throw more tinder onto the flames.

I choke back a gasp as Jack spins, grabbing the bags and setting them on my lap all at once, covering me.

“Daddy.” I laugh but feel the heat and wetness seep from my body at the sound of that word. The response from the first moment he said it was the same.

It hits me down low, tumbling around in my center before rising up and gripping around my heart like a velvet fist.

He strips off his suit jacket, laying it across the back of the sofa. Then he rolls up his sleeves as I peek over the bags, then back to his face, watching his tongue trace along his lower lip, that flexing in his jaw making me a little nervous.

He finishes with his sleeves and it occurs to me, that there are few things sexier than a man rolling up his sleeves. Especially with forearms like Jack’s. I’m mesmerized as I stare at the corded muscles under his tan skin shifting and moving.

“Open them.” He nods, coming to sit next to me, as I blow out a breath, fighting the urge to climb him like a tree. He moves a few of the bags to the floor to make room for his enormous self and proceeds to take the sincerest joy in watching me open every parcel.

There’s nightgowns and more stuffed animals. Frogs and bats, which he says are my favorites. There’s strawberries and cream shampoo by some fancy organic company which he also says is my favorite.

“This one next.” He grabs a lavender bag with lime green tissue paper. It’s smaller than the other bags but from the glint in Jack’s eyes, I can tell it’s special.

“This is too much, Daddy.” I hold the bag in my lap, a sudden rush of guilt washing coolness over me.

“There’s no such thing, baby. Just open it. Daddy loves giving you gifts. Probably more than you even like getting them. So be a good girl and make Daddy happy. That’s one of your most important jobs, lil’ mint. Making me happy, you know that, right?”

Somehow, I do, and I should be fighting him tooth and nail and shoving my feminist card in his face but I’m not. Being doted on and taken care of and spoiled feels good down into my core . There may be a price tag attached to all of this later but for right now, my payments are deferred.

Inside the lavender bag, there’s two small boxes with a ribbon tying them together. One is bigger and I slip it away, tearing at the silver wrapping paper then gasping at the sparkling green phone case with the word ‘Babygirl’ encrusted in what looks like real gemstones across the back.

I fumble and flip it over, the newest iPhone shining back at me as Jack reaches over and presses his thumb to the bottom of the screen, lighting it up, and I burst out laughing as the image of his stern face pops up.

“I’m always watching.” He growls against my ear, running his hand up the flesh of my thigh, making me whimper.

I want to throw myself against him and find relief from the titanic pressure building in my core.

“I’ll always be with you from now on. It’s got tracking and if you fall in a pool, this phone…

” He taps the screen a few more times, “has an alarm. I had extra security features installed, things most people don’t know about, but for you, I’m not taking any chances. ”

“Thank you,” I mumble, forcing a smile as he furrows his brow.

“What’s wrong?”

I shrug, trying not to seem ungrateful. “That all seems like it’s for you . Does it have games? Can I put fox ears on my pictures? Can we take selfies that make us look like bulldogs? Does it have a reading app?”

Jack’s low chuckle and the little pinch he delivers to my soft inner thigh make me jump. “All of that, yes. I had them put in a special game package and all the filters a little girl would want. You are a little girl sometimes, aren’t you, baby?”

His eyes darken and I’m frozen in his piercing silver gaze.

This is more than some sexy game we’re playing and that’s what makes it so potent.

It feels real. There’s a part of me that looks to him like an authority figure, a man between me and the rest of the world.

It’s so intoxicating, it’s almost as though we are living in a secret universe that no one else will ever know or see and I’m not sure if that’s good or bad.

I nod as he releases the pinch, slipping his fingers higher, my blood pumping hot through my thundering heart as he drapes his other arm over my shoulders, tugging me into that perfect spot against the side of his chest, making me feel small and overpowered by not only his size but his sheer entitlement to do what he wants with me.

“Open the little one. Then, we’ll take a break.” A tidal wave of desire courses through me as he makes contact with the slip of fabric between my legs. I yield to the mini convulsion, listening to his breathing, feeling the warmth on my neck.

I’m hyper aware of everything. The bolts of pleasure driving through me as his fingers stroke through my panties. The hitch of his breath. The way he’s pulling me tighter and tighter against him, his fingertips pressing into the flesh on my shoulder.

My hands shake as I fumble with the other little box, the music on the surround sound seems to get louder, the same as the way my heart is thundering in my ears.

“Open it, my lil’ mint.” His touch and his words are hauntingly possessive. Soft and sweet but dangerous and dominant.

My clit has developed its own heartbeat as well, and Jack’s fingers are focusing more and more on that sensitive spot as he plays between my legs.

I rip away the paper, revealing a small pink leather box and hold my breath, the entire simple moment becoming so intense, I’m dizzy, the edges of the room fading.

“Here.” Jack slips his arm from over my shoulders and takes the box, flipping it open with his thumb as I cover my mouth, muffling the excited scream that tumbles from my lips.

It’s only partly from the gleaming emeralds that dot the eyes of a platinum frog with a keyhole in his belly. The rest of him is set with tiny, shimmering emeralds, there’s a small key in the box as well and containing my excitement becomes impossible.

I bounce on the sofa cushion as Jackson’s fingers slip under the elastic around the top of my thigh and dive right into what feels like the center of my soul.

“Take it out of the box, baby. This is so you’ll always know you are mine. Because, you are mine. You belong to me. And this little frog will help remind you if you ever forget.”