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 Brat Mode Activated
Copyright 2022 © Remi Darling
All Rights Reserved

This book is a work of fiction. Any references to real events, real people, and
real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents
are products of the Author’s imagination and any resemblance to persons,
living or dead, actual events, organizations or places is entirely coincidental.
All rights are reserved. This book is intended for the reader of this ebook only.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any
means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording,
taping, or by any information storage retrieval system, without the express
written permission of the Author. All songs, song titles and lyrics contained in
this book are the property of the respective songwriters and copyright holders.

Editing: Nice Girl Naughty Edits

Photographer: CJC Photography
Cover model: Dominic Calvani
Cover design & formatting: Black Widow Designs

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 CONTENTS

Dedication
Content Warning
Playlist
Introduction

Part I
Prologue
1. Lyric
2. Grayson
3. Lyric
4. Grayson
5. Lyric
6. Grayson
7. Lyric
8. Grayson
9. Lyric
10. Grayson
11. Grayson
12. Lyric
13. Grayson
14. Lyric
15. Grayson
16. Lyric
17. Grayson
18. Lyric
Part II
19. Lyric
20. Grayson
21. Grayson
22. Grayson
23. Lyric
24. Grayson
25. Lyric
26. Grayson
27. Grayson
28. Lyric
 29. Grayson
30. Lyric
31. Lyric
32. Grayson
33. Lyric
34. Grayson
35. Lyric
Part III
36. Lyric
37. Grayson
38. Lyric
39. Lyric
40. Grayson
41. Grayson
42. Lyric
43. Grayson
Chapter 44
45. Lyric
Epilogue

Sneak Peek
Acknowledgments
About the Author

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To all the brats out there…

Here are some phrases to instantly piss off your Dom:

• You need to behave.
• Don’t forget your place.
• It’s cute seeing you trying to be in control.
• Is that all you’ve got?
• Awww, I almost pity you.
• Who’s the little brat now?
You can also call him Princess or tell him he’s giving you
bitch boy energy.

*Proceed with caution*

You might end up like Lyric in Chapter 31.
Don’t say I didn’t warn you. ;)

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Although Brat Mode Activated is a contemporary romance with absolutely no
dark themes, it is also an age-gap step-dad romance. For this reason and
because the MMC is, technically, cheating on his wife with her daughter—the
FMC—it is labeled as forbidden (the wife is a nasty c-word devil woman,
though, as she too is cheating, so really, she deserves it.)
Anyway… Twenty-four years stand between the FMC and the MMC, and yes,
she calls him Daddy. Not solely because of their age difference, but because
this book contains a Daddy/brat kink dynamic and other BDSM themes. If
choking, spanking, handcuffs, rope bondage, edging, other sex toys, anal sex,
and collars are not your cup of tea, proceed at your own discretion. Suitable
for mature audiences only.

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For my OG Dee Garcia followers, you already know how my playlists work. If
you’re new here, allow me to explain. Music is a HUGE part of my writing
process and, for years now, I’ve made it a point to give each chapter it’s own
song. I was going to keep this strictly for Dee Garcia books, but it didn’t feel
right not bringing this over to Remi as well. For me personally, chapter songs
enhance the reading experience. The song implemented is always for a reason.
Even if every lyric doesn’t match, most of the time, the general vibe fits the
chapter scenario or characters perfectly. The playlist below is in chapter order.
If you’d like to listen in real time as you read, click here to open the playlist in
your browser or scan the Spotify code below.

Daydreaming’ - Ariana Grande

Take Me to Church - Hozier
wish that i could- UMI
Love Is a Bitch - Two Feet
Ain’t My Fault - Zara Larsson
Put It on Me - Matt Maeson
 Sweetest Pie - Megan Thee Stallion & Dua Lipa
Daddy Issues- The Neighbourhood
If You Let Me - Alina Baraz
So Damn Into You - Vlad Holiday
Wiped Out! - The Neighbourhood
Bad Girl - Avril Lavigne
Your Guilty Pleasure - Henry Verus
Freak - Doja Cat
Keep It Down - Migrant Motel
I Want You - Dasilva
All I Need - Lloyd
La Vie En Rose - Emily Watts
Blinding Lights - The Weeknd
MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT- Loveless
TiO - ZAYN
Do It for Me - Rosenfeld
Good For You - Selena Gomez & A$AP Rocky
Hold On, We’re Going Home - Drake & Majid Jordan
Tremble - Nicole Miller
Chills (Dark Version) - Mickey Valen & Joey Myron
Electric Love - BØRNS
Addiction - Doja Cat
Earned It - The Weeknd
needy - Ariana Grande
Alone With You - Ashlee
Lucky - Njomza
safety net - Ariana Grande
happier than ever - Loveless
i love you - Billie Eilish
Vegas - Doja Cat
 Train Wreck - James Arthur
bad idea - Ariana Grande
feel something - Bea Miller
Can You Feel My Heart - Bring Me The Horizon
Talking to the Moon - Bruno Mars
Don’t Blame Me - Taylor Swift
Forever - Labrinth
everything - Kehlani

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 she has little
innocent demons
inside her eyes,
and they recklessly
play with matches.
I’ve never seen
sparks so pretty.
-n.

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OceanofPDF.com
 Nine months ago…

TITS.
That’s all I see is fucking tits. Perky, juicy as fuck, barely
sheathed behind these tiny pink shimmery triangles she
calls a bikini top. They bounce tauntingly with every step,
forming thoughts that have no goddamn business being
there. One wrong move and I’ll have a front row seat to
another Janet Jackson at the Super Bowl mishap.
Then stop fucking looking and it won’t be a problem, you
bastard. She’s your step-daughter, for fuck’s sake!
On a deep-seated growl—one I hope like hell Lyric
doesn’t hear—I turn away and take a long pull of my beer
as she sidles past me to open the fridge. Her scent, a light
citrus blend with subtle floral notes, assaults me. I’ve never
really noticed it, but my cock seems to like it, stirring
beneath my jeans.
Christ, what the fuck is wrong with—
“Hey, Gray, have you talked to my mom recently?”
Despite the fact she can’t see me behind the stainless
steel door, I shake my head, gulping past the lump now
caught in my throat at the sweet yet seductively raspy lilt
of her voice. Another detail I’ve never noticed until now…
“Not for a few hours, no. She’s filming a few different
scenes today.”
Seriously, what in the ever loving fuck is wrong with me?
“So I assume it’s just us for dinner, then?” she presses.
“Not sure. She hung up the second David told her they
were ready for her on set.” My jaw ticks at the mere
mention of him. David is my wife’s personal assistant, and
he assists her alright—with his cock deep in her unfaithful
cunt. Their little affair has been going on for months,
probably coming up on five or six now, maybe more.
And to answer your obvious, undoubted question: No, I
haven’t brought it up or confronted her about it. I can’t
afford to right now, not when CloudNine is becoming a
household name within the kink community. Last thing I
need to deal with is a nasty divorce because that’s exactly
what it’ll be.
No one leaves Nicolette Leclaire unless she so desires.
Lyric shuts the fridge, a sour expression marring her
features. One that leaves me wondering if she knows of her
mother’s affair, too. “Then I’m just gonna order a few pizzas
for you, me, and the girls. You okay with that?”
“Pizza’s fine,” I affirm, starting for my office before my
eyes go wandering again or my cock decides we’re
suddenly attracted to her. Her, my fucking step-daughter.
“Just let me know what toppings you want and I’ll get it
ordered.”
 “Your cum on my tits.”
I stop dead in my tracks, my feet rooting to the
travertine tiles beneath me. I swear I heard it, murmured
under her breath with a devious little chuckle in tow. Said
cock kicks beneath my jeans, conjuring another flicker of
highly obscene images matching the five little words I
probably imagined.
Fucking hell.
Spinning on my heels, I observe her wordlessly as she
goes about mixing a few drinks for her and her friends. I
open my mouth to speak, to ask her to repeat that, but
apparently, my brain to mouth function is on the fritz. I
can’t form a single word.
“What? You’re not gonna punish me for having a few
drinks are you?” Those ocean blue eyes of hers cut my way,
a wicked smirk curling her lips.
Oh, I’ll punish you real good, baby gi—
For the love of God, Grayson, get it together!
“I know this isn’t your first go with alcohol, Lyric.” I stuff
my hands in my pockets, rallying every ounce of the stern,
controlled figure she knows to my aid. “All I ask is that you
drink responsibly. If your friends are driving home, cap
them after two and don’t let them leave too soon. Last
thing we need is one of them getting into an accident
‘cause they were too impaired to be behind the wheel.”
She bobs her head in understanding, caramel blonde
tresses bouncing with the motion. “Will do.”
I make way to leave after that, desperate to put some
much needed distance between us, but she stops me again.
“Oh, and Grayson?”
Turning my head enough to peer over my shoulder, I
watch the way she brings the glass to her lips and takes a
small sip. “Meat lovers sounds great,” she imparts, and of
course, that traitorous thing in my pants stirs all over
again.
Goddammit.
 A nod and I’m gone, shutting the door to my office with
a heavier hand than intended. I collapse in my chair,
sucking in a deep breath in an effort to calm myself. Hell,
to fucking cleanse myself and whatever the fuck that was
out there, but the silence briskly becomes my enemy. Those
inappropriate thoughts resurface with a vengeance, and
they’re not just thoughts this time. No, I can hear her;
moaning my name as my tongue assaults her nipples,
groaning greedily around my length as I piston in and out
of her sweet little mouth. Even a devilish giggle as I shoot
my cum on her tits.
My nails dig into the armrests for purchase, eliciting just
enough pain from the force to snap me out of it.
What. The. Fuck. Is. Happening?
Tits, my baser needs whisper. Needs that are barely
attended to these days since my wife is busy attending to
another man. Tits are happening.
Yeah, that. Swear to God they grew two sizes overnight.
Shouldn’t that be impossible? She’s twenty, well past
puberty. Why am I even noticing this shit? I’ve never once
looked or thought about her this way before. The deepest
my attention and affections have ever run are that of any
fatherly figure. I care for her, yes, she’s my wife’s daughter.
I want nothing but the best for her, always ensuring she
wants for nothing. Not that Nicolette needs my help in the
financial department. As an A-list actress with several
award-winning performances under her belt, she has more
than the means to give Lyric a good life. Still, for the last
two years since Nicolette and I married, I’ve taken my
place at the forefront of the household, to provide and
protect. So why the hell is this happening now, from one
moment to the next.
Because tits, that voice whispers again. Her ass looked
great in those tiny bottoms, too.
I groan.
Fuck. My. Life.
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 ♫ Daydreaming’ - Ariana Grande ♫

“I TRIPLE DOG DARE YOU,” Carlie, my best friend, goads

through FaceTime. More like cackles—deviously. “I triple
dog fucking dare you to do it.”
Of course she would.
“You’re the worst, dude. You’re supposed to tell me
that’s a terrible idea and not to do it. He’s my fucking step-
dad,” I whisper-hiss, cupping a hand over my mouth as I
amble into my store of a closet.
“Yeah, your fine as fuck step-dad who’s probably not
getting laid since your mom is getting her pussy pounded
by her assistant,” she hisses back.
 Ew.
“Shut the fuck up! I don’t have my AirPods in!” I all but
slam the door shut. “And wasn’t it Cosmo that said the
majority of cheaters end up screwing their partners more
to keep suspicions at bay?”
Pretty sure it was Cosmo. Or maybe it was Marie Claire.
Carlie shrugs and winds another auburn lock of hair
around the headband on her head. She swears by the
heatless curl method. “Probably, but in what world does
Nicolette Leclaire have extra time to fuck her husband
after a long day, let alone fuck him more? She’s barely
home as it is. I wouldn’t be surprised if the last time they
got it on was before she started cheating on him.”
I mentally cringe at the thought of my mom engaging in
anything remotely sexual with Grayson. Don’t get me
wrong, my mother is a gorgeous woman—I look a lot like
her—and she doesn’t look forty-two, but no… Just no.
“Regardless, he’s my step-dad.”
“And you’re attracted to him. You’ve been attracted to
him since you were sixteen. You’re legal now, dude. If you
guys fuck, he can’t get into any trouble. Not in the legal
sense, anyway.”
“That doesn’t change the fact he’s married to my
mother. He’ll never go for it.”
“You’ll never know unless you try. What’s the worst that
can happen? He’ll have seen your tits? He should feel
utterly blessed to see them. They’re great tits.”
Choking back a laugh, my gaze flicks down to my
cleavage. They’re not huge, natural full Cs, but they look
damn good with or without clothes on, if I do say so myself.
“They are, but I highly doubt he wants to see his step-
daughter’s rack.”
Carlie makes this dubious noise in the back of her
throat, cutting my attention back on her right as one of her
dark brows quirk. “Was it not you who said you thought he
was eye-fucking you a few weeks ago when we were in the
pool?”
“I mean, yeah, but—”
“But nothing,” she laughs, stormy gray eyes alight with
mischief. “Stop making excuses and just do it. You only live
once. If it backfires, at least you tried.”
“Yeah, tried, failed, and made it awkward. I still have to
live with him, you know,” I counter, shooting her a glare.
“Worst comes to worst, you can stay here until we find a
place.”
A topic change. Thank fuck. I never should’ve brought
up my bright little spur-of-the-moment idea to try seducing
my step-father in the first place. “I haven’t found shit yet,
not that I like anyway. Have you?” Feels like we’ve been
searching for a rental for a century.
My best friend hums as she rises from her vanity and
saunters into her bathroom. “My dad sent me one this
afternoon. I haven’t opened the email yet, though.”
“Don’t wait too long. You know those listings fly. What if
it’s the one?”
“We’ll worry about that tomorrow.” Her grin tells me she
knows exactly what I’m trying to do—aka take the attention
off of myself. She’s not stupid. “Right now, you need to be
worrying about finishing your hair, make-up, and picking
out what you’re gonna wear.”
My entire face scrunches up in confusion. “Why would I
pick out an outfit if I’m sending him a nude, dummy?”
“You’re sending him a pussy shot too?” she squeaks,
though it comes off more as impressed.
I shake my head violently. “What? No!”
“Then you need bottoms, dumb ass. Cute panties or
something that’ll make him imagine what he can’t see.”
“Not if I’m doing an up close.”
Carlie’s head rears back as she scoffs. “What are you,
fifteen taking a nude for the first time? Full body shot,
bitch. They’re hotter.”
 Groaning, I resign myself to my fate and pull open one of
my lingerie drawers. I’m not getting out of this, no matter
how hard I try. The second I mentioned it, I walked myself
into a 10-foot hole. That’s the thing about Carlie. She’s
shamelessly brazen, adventurous, and unapologetic in any
given situation. I am too, along with impulsive, but this is
my friggin’ step-dad we’re talking about. I’m not feeling as
unapologetically brave. “You really are the worst.”
“And yet, you still love me, so shut it. Make-up, hair, cute
panties—go. Send them to me when you’re done so I can
approve.”
“So you can approve? If you wanna see my tits, just say
that,” I quip, plucking a white lace thong from the drawer.
“I wanna see your tits,” she snickers.
“I hate you.”
“You love me. Bye.”

Me: [Photo Attachment]

Me: [Photo Attachment]
Me: [Photo Attachment]
Me: [Photo Attachment]
Me: [Photo Attachment]
Me: Pick one.

AN HOUR LATER, I send Carlie’s forever horny ass the top

five pics from the dozens I took. I have a feeling I know
which one she’s gonna pick, but I want confirmation. I can’t
seem to settle on one. Probably because I’m second-
guessing this whole plan more and more with every passing
second.
Cece: :O
Cece: THE THIRD ONE
Cece: Da titties, the waist, THOSE THIGHS… **chef’s kiss**
Cece: Holy fuck my best friend is fine as shit.

As always, her texts perk me up, rousing a giggle to life

as I type out my reply.

Me: You *really* think I should send it?

Cece: If you don’t, I’m sending it to him through email.
Me: YOU WILL DO NO SUCH THING.
Cece: You know I will, so DO IT. Don’t be a pussy. #YOLO

YOLO, her undying philosophy. It could be the silly-

stupidest idea on earth—or the absolute worst—and she
would still tell me to do it.

Me: When he kicks me out, I’m gonna wait until 3am to

knock on your door with all my shit.
Cece: That’s like the worst threat ever. You know I’m always
down for a sleepover. And stop being so goddamn dramatic.
He’s not gunna kick you out for sending him a pic of your
tits. **eye roll**

She’s right; he’s not ‘cause that would mean him having
to explain to my mom the why behind that decision. But
going through with this could ruin everything. Grayson and
I have always had a good relationship. He stepped in for my
piece of shit father—who left my mom when I was three
months old—and has been the father figure I craved as a
child. Granted, as Carlie mentioned, I have always been
physically attracted to him, too, but that doesn’t change the
fact he’s a good step-father.
He’d probably make one hell of a daddy, too, the devil on
my shoulders whispers. Do it, Lyric. You never know,
perhaps that hungered stare you saw a few weeks back
wasn’t a figment of your imagination. What if he’s
harboring an attraction toward you, too?
What if, what if, what if?
The two-word question taunts me, and before I can
convince myself otherwise, I scroll down my text threads
until I find Grayson’s, load in the pic Carlie picked, close
my eyes, and fucking send it.
‘Cause that man exudes all types of big dick daddy
energy…and I want it.

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 ♫ Take Me to Church - Hozier ♫

Lyric: [Photo Attachment]

I’M LAYING in bed with Stephen King’s latest release, some

mindless show on Netflix playing softly in the background,
when my phone pings. My gaze cuts from the masterfully
crafted words to the screen, eyes bulging when I note
Lyric’s name and the fact there’s a photo attached to it…
And based on the small preview image, it looks like
something I shouldn’t be receiving.
My heart rate skyrockets, the book slipping from my
grip as I reach out for the iPhone and blindly swipe my
thumb along the screen. By the time our short thread opens
up, three more messages quickly appear on the screen
beneath the attachment.

Lyric: OMG
Lyric: DON’T LOOK AT THAT
Lyric: WRONG THREAD

But it’s too late.

Too-fucking-late.
Of its own accord, my thumb instinctively guides me up
toward the image. An image that instantly has me in a
chokehold.
It’s Lyric… Lyric on her knees in front of the floor length
mirror in her room. Bottom lip caught between her teeth,
topless, legs spread, revealing white lace panties. The
longer I stare at it, the more my cock stiffens. I try tearing
my eyes away, but it’s a futile feat knowing she’s right
down the hall and she’s…
She’s fucking perfect.
Gorgeous.
Absolutely stunning.
Petite with mouthwatering curves that fit her figure,
smooth fair skin. And don’t get me started on her tits, how
they look exactly like I’d shamefully imagined in that bikini,
or that delectable crease where her thighs meet her hips—
thighs I can picture wrapped around my head as I devour
her pu—
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. This is bad, like def-con five bad. What
the hell am I supposed to do? Do I reply? Reprimand her?
Do I leave her on read and let the silence speak for itself?
Seems like a double-edged sword either way. There’s no
right or easy way to do this because it shouldn’t be
happening to begin with.
Me: Jesus fuck, Lyric…

Her reply comes through almost immediately.

Lyric: I’m sorry!

Lyric: I meant to send that to someone else! Your thread
was right under his! I clicked on it without realizing!
Lyric: Please don’t tell my mom.

Bullshit! Her and I don’t text often enough, if ever at all,

for my thread to be directly beneath whoever she claims
she was sending that to. There’s no way, no way in hell.
Maybe she did it on purpose.
Maybe she did it on purpose because she does, in fact,
know of her mother’s extra-curricular activities, and sees
you as free-reign…
The thought hits me like a ton of bricks, a prospect my
cock likes a little too much as it bobs beneath my pajama
pants.
Stop it. We’re not attracted to her. We’re not attracted to
her. We’re not fucking attracted to her. She’s your step-
daughter. She’s your fucking step-daughter. Off-limits.
Never happening. Not attracted to her. Think about your
wife…
You mean, the same wife who’s cheating on you, my
subconscious scoffs.
I push the infuriating thought aside and smash my
thumbs along the keyboard.

Me: What part? The part where you sent your step-dad a
nude or the part where you were sexting, period?
Lyric: Both.
Lyric: You know how she is. She’ll flip out and say it’s a
scandal waiting to happen.
Me: I mean, it IS a scandal waiting to happen. How do you
know that—how’s it you kids say these days—FUCK BOY you
were sending that image to wasn’t going to sell it and name
you in the process?
Lyric: He’s not a fuck boy…
Lyric: And I’m grown. I can do whatever I want. I just don’t
wanna hear her mouth.
Lyric: I’m begging you, Grayson. Please don’t tell her. I’ll do
whatever you want…
Me: What I want is for you to be honest.
Lyric: Honest about?
Me: Was that photo truly an accident or did you send it with
purpose knowing what your mother is up to these days?

Three dots appear, then disappear, a song and dance

that happens several times over the span of a few minutes.
I watch the screen like a hawk, my stomach in knots, heart
thundering against my chest cavity. Each thud resounds in
my ears, drowning out the rest of the world while I wait
and wait and wait some more.

Lyric: :O
Lyric: You know about that?

So she does know…

Me: Sadly, yes. Overheard one of her conversations with

him a few months back.
Lyric: Well…
Lyric: Any interest in getting even? ;)
Lyric: And for the record—no, that image wasn’t accidental.

And there it is…

She did do it on purpose.
 My wife’s daughter, who’s—I do the math quickly in my
head—twenty-four years my junior just sent me a nude on
purpose and propositioned me for sex.
This time, I don’t respond.

I’M a fucking wreck the following morning. On edge. Angry

as all hell. Paranoid. Nicolette has never been one to invade
my privacy and ask to go through my phone, or anything of
that nature, but I haven’t let that thing out of my sight
since my alarm went off at 7. Even now, as I stand in line at
Alchemist for some coffee, the damn thing is burning a hole
through my pocket, taunting me with the image that’s very
much still sitting in our text thread.
I should’ve deleted it, I know, but once Lyric admitted
that it wasn’t an accident after all—and offered herself up
for what I’d like to call revenge sex—I swiped out of the
thread, locked my phone, and took my ass to sleep. No
amount of reading or watching TV was going to get that
image out of my mind. It was the only way I knew to make
it stop.
Or so I thought.
Thought because I dreamt about it, about her. Me
peeling that little white thong off of her, kissing my way up
her tight, delicious body. Her tits laid heavy for me, eager
for me to give them attention, rosy nipples puckered in
anticipation. The soft moans that left her only fueled me on,
drawing my attention downward, down to what I know with
every goddamn fiber of my being is a beautiful cunt. Wet,
warm, tight, wanting me, waiting for me to—
“Good morning, sir,” a cheery female voice greets,
cutting through the lust-filled haze. “What can I… Oh, my
God, you’re Grayson Kane.”
My stare refocuses on the barista, an equally bright yet
nervous smile sitting on her youthful face.
“What can I get for y-you, Mr. Kane?”
I erase the short distance to the counter, thanking the
asshole in my pants for not standing at attention after my
brain took another detour. “Large Americano, two sugars,
and a medium iced Spanish Latte, please.”
The young woman, Marisol, as her name tag reads,
makes quick work of nervously ringing me up in her fangirl
state, and asks me to take a seat while they prepare my
order.
With a tip of my head, I retreat to one of the empty
tables, which isn’t many—this place is always packed—and
finally pull my phone free, ignoring the looks and whispers
directed my way. Shooting a quick text to my assistant,
Nora, I inform her I grabbed us some coffee so she doesn’t
make the stop herself, and open up my emails, intent on
distracting myself.
I end up in my texts instead, involuntarily scrolling up to
that godforsaken photo again. My jaw tenses at the sight of
it, heart rate kicking up from a steady thrum to a wild
gallop. Lyric Elizabeth Taylor is a stunner. There’s no
denying it. I’ve seen, dated, and fucked my fair share of
beautiful women—my wife included—but Lyric…
Lyric is in a league of her own.
Delete, delete, delete! The rational part of me screams
for me to do the right thing, to be responsible, to hold onto
my moral compass and stop feasting my eyes on my step-
daughter like she wasn't very much forbidden.
The juicy, tempting apple in the garden of Eden.
But much like Adam, I fall weak to it, unable to delete
the photo just as he couldn’t resist the fruit.

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 ♫ wish that i could- UMI ♫

IT’S BEEN three days since I sent Grayson that nude, and I
still haven’t heard back from him after admitting it wasn’t
so accidental after all. Hell, I’ve barely even seen him. If I
walk into a room he’s occupying, he leaves. He won’t spare
me a look, a single word, nothing. The very thing I didn’t
want happening, what I was trying to avoid by sending that
stupid picture, is, in fact, happening in perfect succession,
and there’s nothing I can do about it.
There’s no going back and fixing it.
No going back and telling Carlie I chickened out.
 I just have to live with it, and I don’t know how the hell
I’m going to live with myself knowing I likely ruined our
relationship.
“It’s beyond awkward,” I tell Carlie, re-reading the short
text thread for the millionth time and mentally cringing. I’m
so fucking stupid. “Shit, awkward is putting it mildly. It’s a
disaster, which is exactly what I was afraid of, remember?”
“And I told you if it didn’t work out to come stay with me
until we find a place. He’s a big boy. If he’s put off by tits,
maybe it’s a good thing he didn’t respond. Fucking baby,”
she grumbles. “Definitely didn’t pin him for a pussy. Maybe
that’s why your mom’s—”
I smack the shit out of her arm before she can utter the
rest of that, shooting her a lethal glare. “He’s not a pussy,
and they’re not just tits. They’re his step-daughter’s tits,” I
hiss quietly, not wanting the nail tech currently doing my
pedicure to hear me. “Of course he’s going to be put off.
He’s twenty plus years my senior!”
My best friend rolls her eyes as she flips through the
magazine in her hands. “Like I said the other night: he
should feel blessed as fuck to be even be receiving a pic of
the girls. Hell, he should feel blessed that someone your
age is into him, period.”
“Um, have you seen him?” She has, hence my confusion.
“Anyone would be into him. He’s sex on a stick.”
Literally.
“Is he though? I mean, yeah, he’s fine as hell, but he’s
gone radio silent over titties. Oh, OH!” Her mouth forms a
perfect O as she snaps her auburn head my way. “What if
he’s got a shrimp dick?”
No, she didn’t.
I just stare at her. Flatly. Blinking. Unmoving.
She’s kidding, right?
“What?” A grin tickles her lips.
“You know what. Sweatpants. Dick print,” I imply.
 “Oh.” She deflates a little as the reminder hits her.
“That’s right.”
Yeah, that’s right. Grayson has this one particular pair of
sweats that cling to him in all the best ways possible, and
Carlie’s had the pleasure of witnessing them. Unless that
man is shoving produce down his underwear every time he
wears them, there’s no way he’s packing a shrimp cocktail.
We’re talking at least a ten-inch cucumber.
A long girthy eggplant.
A juicy Kielbasa.
“There’s no way it’s a case of babydickitis. It has to be
because of who I am.” It has to be…
Or maybe he just doesn’t find you attractive, my
subconscious advises.
The thought makes me wince, a reaction the nail tech
takes notice of and immediately apologizes for thinking it’s
her fault. I wave her off kindly as I try pushing it aside. Try
being the keyword. What if that’s it? What if it has nothing
to do with the fact I’m his step-daughter and everything to
do with the fact he doesn’t find me attractive? I know I’m a
pretty girl, but that doesn’t make me every man’s cup of
tea, especially a man who’s quite literally twice my age.
“Regardless of who you are, he’s stupid to pass this up.
Your mom’s out there doing whatever the fuck she wants.
Why shouldn’t he have a little fun too?” Carlie continues,
her tone haughty and offended on my behalf.
“He must have morals,” I shrug.
“Oh, puhleaseee,” she scoffs, the magazine slapping
onto her thighs. “He’s the fucking CEO of CloudNine. That
man’s moral compass is beyond askew. He’s probably kinky
as fuck in the bedroom.”
CloudNine is essentially a Facebook meets FetLife
lovechild, only not as intimidating as the hardcore kink
communities can be, and no penalizations for posting
sexual content like Facebook.
 My eyes nearly spin out of their sockets. “Kinky doesn’t
equate to no morals.”
“True, but still. Bet he’d love it if you call him Daddy
while he shoves his di—”
I smack her arm again, eyes wide in that way that
screams shut the fuck up. My brain, though…my brain runs
wild with her suggestion, jumping mid-reel to Grayson
pounding into me, asking me if I’ve been a bad girl through
grit teeth, shooting a moaned Yes, Daddy free from my
throat…
Stop it. Stop. Stop. Stop thinking like this!
But I can’t because—dick. I want it, and I hate that he's
not thinking with it.
This shit is dumb.

OceanofPDF.com
 ♫ Love Is a Bitch - Two Feet ♫

PULLING the Bugatti into the six-car garage, I park in my

usual spot and kill the engine, falling into my seat with a
burdened sigh. Nicolette isn’t home, as usual, but her
daughter is. The daughter I’ve avoided like the plague for
the last two weeks. I refuse to be anywhere near her, much
less alone with her. I can’t, not with the way my body is
suddenly reacting to her. Regardless of how much—and
how hard—I’ve tried to forget what happened, the image
she sent is seared in my mind. I can see every curve, every
dip, every swell clear as day. Have them memorized like the
words to my favorite song. It’s sick and disturbing, and I
fucking hate myself for it.
At least she’s legal, that little voice in my head—the one
who fuels bad decisions—imparts. This could be a million
times worse. She could be underage.
Not helping. I scrub a tired hand down my face. Not
fucking helping at all because legal means acceptable and
acceptable means possible. And there is no realm in this
universe where possible or acceptable can relate to Lyric
and me.
None whatsoever.
The house is quiet when I finally step inside through the
garage door, and I mean deathly quiet. I expected Nancy,
our housekeeper who comes once a week, to still be here,
but it looks like she’s already made her rounds for the day.
I take the silence as a good sign, that Lyric is probably
locked away in her room, which should give me the
opportunity to sneak into mine without—
Wrong.
She’s in the kitchen, stare flicking upwards as I saunter
further inside, the sound of my Oxfords clicking on the
travertine floors. My spine stiffens, but I keep on for the
stairs, tipping my head at her by way of greeting. To my
surprise, she remains silent and offers nothing more than a
curt smile. One I don’t return, deflating like a balloon as I
clear the space and nearly bolt down the hallway and up
the staircase.
Two at a time.
I take those fuckers up two a time, desperate for the
safe, solitary confines of my bedroom. For some semblance
of peace. Sanity. Half way up though, a small hand wraps
around my bicep and spins me around. It’s a damn good
thing I’ve got quick reflexes, otherwise we would’ve ended
up tumbling down in a heap.
With me landing on top of her, no less.
 Those pretty blue eyes, ones so similar to her mother’s,
gaze up at me beneath her lashes. Again, she says nothing,
watching as my greens cut down from her face to the
minuscule amount of space between us, and the bird’s eye
view of cleavage peeking out from her blush pink tank top.
Goddammit.
“What do you want, Lyric?” I grit, lifting my stare back
up to her face.
“How was your day?” she inquires simply.
How was… How was my day? I try subduing the
sardonic laugh bubbling in my throat, but my attempt is
feeble. It blasts free like a canon, echoing through the foyer
as I seal my eyes shut and tilt my head back. Why, God?
Why are you doing this to me? What have I done to deserve
—
“I didn’t realize it was such a funny question,” she carps.
My eyes snap back open as the sassy retort settles in.
The sheer amount of sarcasm in her voice flips the
antagonized switch, righting my posture to tower over her.
Our stares reconnect, and although I’m sure the pinch of
my brows is ever prominent, she doesn’t flinch. “What did
you just say?”
“I said…” She inches up on her toes, tips of our noses
nearly brushing. “I didn’t realize it was such a funny
question.”
I narrow my gaze. “It’s funny because you know better.”
“Know better?” she scoffs. “Is it suddenly wrong to ask
how your day was?”
Here we go.
The conversation I’d been trying to avoid.
“No, but what you did was, which I’m sure you already
know given I’ve done everything in my power to stay away
from you since then, therefore rendering your inquiry
amusing,” I growl.
Lyric sighs, and not only does she sigh, she rolls her
eyes too, instantly igniting the blood rushing through my
veins from a simmer to a full-on boil. “Jesus Christ,
Grayson, get over it. You saw my tits. So-fucking-what?”
Is she serious right now?
“So what?” My head rears, affronted and astounded at
how blasé she is about all of this. “You’re my fucking step-
daughter, Lyric, that’s what! I’m literally the last person
who should be seeing that! Hell, the absolute last person
you should even be sending something like that to, much
less propositioning for sex!”
Yes, I’m yelling. I’m yelling ‘cause I’m pissed.
Pissed at her for putting me in this predicament.
Pissed at me for fucking reacting to it.
There should have been no reaction other than disgust,
disapproval, and some sort of punishment.
“I get it, okay? You’re not attracted to me.” Another eye
roll follows suit. “Clearly, I didn’t think it through and I
apologize for making you uncomfortable. Can we move on
now?”
She thinks…I’m not attracted to her? The urge to protest
sits hot on my tongue. I want to tell her that’s not it at all,
that I’m too attracted to her—despite the fact I keep telling
myself I’m not—which is why I’ve been avoiding her. But
the mere mention of it would undoubtedly encourage her,
give her ideas, and I can’t afford that. “There’s no moving
on from this, Lyric,” I start, swallowing down the words
that want to make their way into existence as I give her my
back and start up the steps. “You did what you did and now
we both have to live with that.”
Silence follows me for a beat, but the moment I hit the
top of the staircase, her voice breaks through the stillness,
rooting me in place. “Why are you making such a big deal
out of this? You act like I snuck in your room while you
were sleeping and sucked you off.”
Fucking hell.
I expel a breath as the imagery flitters to the forefront of
my mind and make quick work of dissolving it. “Because it
never should have happened, that’s why. You’ve put me in
one hell of a compromising position. I’ll have to lie to your
mother for the rest of my life, act like everything is fine.”
“Kinda like she’s doing to you?”
I don’t answer, I can’t—because she’s right.
And nothing I say is going to change that.

LATER THAT NIGHT, I’m already asleep when Nicolette

crawls into bed. Or at least I was…until the mattress
dipped with her weight and she threw a leg over my body.
“Gray,” she whispers, smoothing a hand up my chest.
“Wake up, baby.”
I don’t move an inch, acting like I’m still very much in a
deep sleep in hopes she’ll roll over and give up. I’m not
stupid. I know what she wants, and I haven’t an interest in
entertaining her. Her cunt does nothing for me these days,
tainted by the knowledge she allows another man inside
her like she was single and not very much married.
At my stillness, she starts the other way, her palm
trailing down my abdomen and beneath the waistband of
my pajama pants. I actually cringe when she takes hold of
my cock and slowly pumps it, her lips starting up my neck.
She smells freshly showered, a hint of mint from our
mouthwash wafting up my nose, but I can still faintly smell
the alcohol on her breath. She claimed to have been
celebrating a friend’s birthday when she text me earlier in
the evening, and perhaps that’s true, but David was
undoubtedly there, too. He’s always there, waiting on her
hand and foot, waiting for her to spread her fucking legs
for him and scream his goddamn name.
 “Wake up, my love,” she whispers, nibbling on my ear. “I
need you.”
Sure, you do.
Her grip tightens, stroking me harder, and for once, my
dick doesn’t react. That’s how foreign her touch has
become. “Come on, baby. Wake up. Give me that big
beautiful cock.”
Is that what she tells him, too?
Still, I don’t move, mentally begging her to take the hint
and fuck all the way off. She doesn’t, of course, pulling
back the sheets enough to situate herself in my lap.
Running my still flaccid cock between her pussy lips, it
takes everything in me not to shudder in disgust. She’s wet,
wetter than she should be, which only tells me she had that
motherfucker’s dick inside her not long ago, and either he
didn’t make her come, or she’s still riled up thanks to the
alcohol. Nicolette’s a horny drunk.
“Grayson,” she hisses, whimpering slightly at the fact
my body is in no way responding. “Don’t you want me,
baby? Come on, wake up.”
A year ago? Yeah. Now, I’ll pass.
Hard-fucking-pass.
When it’s clear she’s not going to stir me awake, she
takes matters further into her hands, intent on getting what
she wants. Slithering off my lap, she settles between my
legs and gently rakes her nails down my thighs before
reclaiming my cock.
Lapping at the tip.
Taking me as far back into her mouth as she can.
A shock in and of itself because Nicolette is a receiver,
not a giver. I can probably count on both hands how many
times she’s willingly given me head. And boy does it always
show ‘cause her technique—if you could even call it that—
needs work. In retrospect, should’ve been a red flag. Yeah,
yeah, not everything is about sex, I know, but I’m a sexual
being by nature. I crave it, need it. I guess I overlooked it
though, or really, allowed it and let it slide, because I loved
her for who she was, not how good her head game was or
how often she was willing to give it to me. There’s other
ways to enjoy sex and—
You act like I snuck in your room while you were
sleeping and sucked you off. Lyric’s argument from just a
few hours ago crawls out from the recesses of my mind and
reforms front and center. She probably sucks cock like a
goddess. I can just see her now; blue eyes gazing up at me
beneath her thick lashes, corners of her lips curled as
teases the head and simultaneously pumps the base. Ass in
the air, fingers massaging my balls.
Fuuuuck.
I’m hard. Also fully aware it’s not her between my legs,
but the thought makes Nicolette’s ministrations suddenly
tolerable.
Pleasurable.
That little temptress is the last thing I should be
thinking about in a moment like this, but I can’t stop, lost in
the vortex of what succumbing to her advances would be
like. I’m so far gone, I don’t realize I’m threading my hand
into Nicolette’s hair or flexing my hips beneath her.
Fucking her mouth, slowly at first, then faster and faster
as the vision intensifies.
Gagging, choking, all I see is her daughter loving every
second of my cock down her throat. Her pretty eyes water,
tears streaming down her face, but that devilish smile
never falters, urging me to use her until I give her every
drop of hot cum waiting to be unleashed.
“Such a good girl,” fantasy me praises. “Such a good
fucking girl. So beautiful…”
Lyric hums at my encouragement and opens wider for
me, falling completely lax, allowing me to take full control.
Idly, I can just make out my wife’s protests. I’ve never
face-fucked her, knowing it’s not her cup of tea, but right
now, I couldn’t care less. The conscious side of me sees it
as a form of payback while my subconscious just barely
keeps the image of Lyric intact, coaxing me to continue.
To get off.
To take this girl the only way I’ll be able to ‘cause this
can never happen outside the depths of my depraved
fantasies.
“Give me that pussy, baby,” fantasy me growls, yanking
her off my length with a pop. “Climb on my cock.”
Without hesitation, Lyric emerges from the space
between my legs and impales herself in one fluid
movement, taking every inch I have to give her.
“Yes…” Her head lolls back, hands flying up to tweak
those rigid pink nipples. “God, you feel so good, Gray.”
It’s Nicolette mumbling my name again, though, digging
her nails into my thighs in warning. The sting dissolves
Lyric from my mind, resulting in instantaneous anger.
Anger I take out on her, forcing her on my cock with both
hands guiding the back of her head. “You like that?” I grit,
snapping my eyes open for the first time to gaze down at
the unfaithful bitch.
She’s unable to move beneath the strength of my grip,
but even in the dark I can see the way she wants to say no,
her dark blue eyes pleading with me to stop.
I don’t.
I need this.
After days of living in a perpetual state of ire thanks to
her daughter’s indiscretions, hell, months of it after
learning about her betrayal, I fucking need this. We’re
barely intimate anymore, and the most action I see on a
regular basis is my hand.
I. Need. This.
The more she resists, trying to wriggle free, the more
force I apply, literally ramming my cock down her throat.
“Dirty little slut.” And I mean it because she is. “Look at
you taking my cock like a champ.”
Do you take his like this, too?
 The thought of that being a possibility after so many
years of her denying me the same ticks my rage up another
notch. With my orgasm on the horizon, I focus on that and
less on her, chasing it with fervor until my balls tighten. I
should come down her throat, force her to swallow it, but
the devil on my shoulder suggests a better idea. As that
first throb ripples through my length, I fist her hair and pull
her off, quickly grabbing hold of my cock.
A few strokes and my climax, volatile as all hell, rips
through me, an equally violent growl erupting from my
throat as I spurt my cum on her face. Nicolette shrieks,
clamping her eyes shut, hands flailing about in disgust.
You deserve it, is all I can think, emptying myself
without a drop of remorse. She deserves it and more. I
gave her everything, fucking everything, treated her like a
queen, better than any man she’s ever been with, and she
repays me with infidelity—as if I didn’t fuck her good
enough.
As if I didn’t love her good enough.
The second I release her, she yanks her nightgown off
her body and rushes to wipe her face clean. “Jesus Christ,
Grayson, what the hell was that all about?” She’s gaping at
me incredulously, obviously not expecting any of that to
transpire the way it did.
“What do you mean?” I tuck myself back into my pajama
pants as I say this before rolling over, giving her my back.
“You tried waking me up to fuck me, remember? It was
about me getting off.”
“Why so aggressively, though? What was going through
your mind that prompted such force?”
You’re a cheating bitch, your goddess of a daughter
wants me, and my entire world is on its fucking axis
because of it, that’s what. I don’t answer her with words,
hitching a nonchalant shoulder.
“What about me?” she presses. “I… I need you.”
 Call your lover. I’m sure he’d be up for another round.
“I’m spent and I have to be up early. You know where the
vibrator is.”
And this time, she does fuck all the way off.

OceanofPDF.com
 ♫ Ain’t My Fault - Zara Larsson ♫

THERE’S no denying Grayson is attracted to me after our

confrontation earlier this week. I could see it in his eyes,
see the way he reacted to me, how he reacted to me saying
he wasn’t. He didn’t like it, wanted to protest against it,
only stopped himself from saying as much because who we
are in each other’s lives and who he’s tied to. Contrary to
what Carlie believes, the man’s moral compass is far from
askew. He’s dead set on “this is wrong”, and I mean, yeah, I
guess it is kind of forbidden, but there’s a clear loophole
here and he’s blatantly refusing to accept it.
 Regardless, I’ve given him his space and stayed at
Carlie’s a few nights. As much as I want to be in his face,
taunting him, showing him what he's missing, what he
could have if he let himself indulge, I figured letting him
cool off might be the right move. Unluckily for him, that
cool down ends tonight ‘cause mom requested a family
dinner. My first thought was he told her, but there wasn’t a
lick of outrage in her tone. Then again, the woman is an
actress. If there’s anyone with an impenetrable poker face,
it’s her.
What if he really did tell her, though? What am I
supposed to say when she asks about it? That I did it ‘cause
I know she’s cheating and I’ve been attracted to him since
she first brought him around? Like, “Oh, sorry, Mom.
Figured you wouldn’t care since you’re getting your shit
pounded on the daily.”
Yeah, right.
“So, how’s everyone’s week been? I feel like I barely see
you two,” my mother starts, her posture prim and proper
like always.
“Because you don’t,” Grayson counters dryly, cutting
into his steak.
“Oh, honey, don’t sound so upset. You know it’s part of
the job,” she coos, reaching over to squeeze his wrist.
Grayson hums, the sound far from amused, as he shovels
a forkful into his mouth without sparing her a glance.
What the hell crawled up his ass?
There’s tension between them, I can feel it, but she pats
his hand lovingly before peering my way, an easy, breezy
expression settling on her face. “What about you, my baby?
What have I missed this week?”
“Not much.” I shrug. “I got an offer from Playboy to be
May’s Centerfold, and—”
Grayson nearly coughs up a lung, his utensils clattering
onto the plate, right as my mom’s head nearly snaps off her
neck. “Playboy?” she shrieks, blue eyes wide. “Please tell
me you said no.”
It’s a lie. My mother may be Nicolette Leclaire, making
me a tabloid fave by default, while simultaneously aiding in
advancing my career quicker than the average girl, but I
haven’t been in the modeling game long enough to be on
Playboy’s radar. I just want to push her buttons. Grayson’s
too.
“I told them I needed to think about it and that I’d get
back to them.” I shrug again, stabbing a few steamed
veggies before popping them in my mouth and dragging my
gaze up to meet hers.
She’s staring at me in disbelief, in complete and utter
disgust, lip curled and all. Meanwhile, Grayson’s glaring
white-hot daggers at my forehead, the vein in his neck
bulging angrily. If it weren’t for my mother’s presence
situated between us, I’d tell him not to look so ragey, that
at least someone wants to see my tits.
Bet he’s regretting not taking me up on my offer now,
huh?
“What on earth is there to think about, Lyric?” Mom
fires back. “You’re not posing nude in front of a camera,
period.”
If you only knew, mom…
“But it could open up other opportunities for me,” I
argue, reveling in the irate flush slowly flourishing beneath
Grayson’s skin.
“Like what? Porn?” he growls, snapping my eyes his
way, and the fire I find lurking in those chartreuse orbs
screams danger. “Those aren’t opportunities you want.”
Yeah… Mission accomplished. He is pissed…and I’m
about to amp it up another notch.
“Pretty rich coming from the CEO of CloudNine, don’t ya
think?”
His gaze narrows slightly. “My platform and porn are
two completely different things.”
 “How so?” My head tilts with purpose, bracing myself as
I ignite the bomb. “Aren’t we allowed to post sexual content
on there?”
“We?” Both he and mom parrot in tandem.
“Yeah, we, the users.”
“You have a profile?” he presses.
I nod, and unlike the Playboy schtick, this isn’t a lie. I
don’t use it often, but I’ve had my profile set up for about a
year now.
My mother groans and sets down her utensils, dropping
her face into her hands. “Please, please, please do not tell
me you’ve uploaded anything inappropriate on there?”
“I haven’t.” Also not a lie. A few slightly risqué selfies?
Yes. But nothing like what I sent Grayson.
“Why do you even have a profile? Are you using at least
using a fake name?” she hedges. I swear she looks like
she’s ready to pull her hair out.
“No, I’m not using a fake name and I’m on there
because I’m a sexually active adult who wants to explore
her kinks and sexuality.”
Another groan rents the air, louder this time. She’s
absolutely mortified. “For the love of God, Lyric, you can’t
be serious right now.”
If you hadn’t guessed it by now, my mother is what you’d
call vanilla. How she ended up with Grayson, who is clearly
not given his business, is beyond me. Now more than ever, I
wonder what he sees in her.
“You know what? I’m done talking about this. The
answer is no for Playboy, Lyric. You need to be thinking
about Cosmo, Vogue, Elle. Not some seedy magazine many
a men will use to…” She stops short then and cringes,
visibly shivering with an exaggerated sour expression
marring her beautiful features.
“And I will, but I have to get up there first. Those
magazines won’t give me the time of day if I’m not more
estab—”
 “The answer is no, I said. You can establish yourself
without posing nude, do you understand me?” she carps.
With a roll of my eyes, I nod and slice off another small
piece of the steak.
“Lyric,” Grayson’s voice booms. “Your words. Use your
words and answer your mother like the adult you claim to
be.”
My gaze drags across the table to where he sits, his
expression stoic as he bored into me. I fucking hate when
they treat me like a goddamn child, especially him. Takes
everything in me not to flip him off as I turn to my mother
and plaster a placating smile on my face. “Yes, mother, I
understand. I’ll reach out to them tomorrow and politely
decline.”
“Good. Thank you.” She bobs her head and returns to
her dinner, drowning the room in silence.
We eat like this for several long minutes, nearly cleaning
our plates before Grayson clears his throat and brings the
napkin to his mouth, wiping the corners clean. “So what did
you want to talk to us about?” he directs at my mom.
The mere reminder of why we’re sitting here all but
drops my stomach out of my ass. I’d completely forgotten
about it with the way our conversation started. Half of me
still thinks he told her and she’s about to chew me out
about it while the other knows that can’t be it. There’s no
way we would’ve talked about anything but if that were the
case…. Right?
Mom mirrors his movements and wipes her mouth
before reaching for her wine glass. “Well, I got some
exciting news today and I wanted to share it with my two
favorite people at the same time.”
Her two favorite people?
Please.
She’s her favorite person, with David coming in second.
Color me intrigued, though—and equally relieved that I’m
likely in the clear, and my little secret is still under wraps.
 When neither Grayson nor I make way to urge her
onward, she drains what remains of the merlot and
bounces her stare between the two of us. “I was offered the
female lead role in a new Netflix original.”
“That’s great, sweetheart,” Grayson extolls, although his
tone falls flatter than it should. “Congratulations.”
I, on the other hand, don’t say a word, too busy
detesting the fact he just called her sweetheart, like he
doesn’t know she’s playing house with her fucking PA.
He’s probably doing it to irk you. Play it cool. The more
he sees it bothers you, the more he’s—
“Lyric, what do you think, honey?” she questions, pulling
me out of my head.
“Sounds like a good opportunity,” I offer, tipping my
glass at her in a seemingly congratulatory fashion.
“It is,” she concedes. “But there’s a catch.”
“Did they ask you to film nude?” I quip, and although he
doesn’t say a word, I can feel the heat of his gaze
penetrating every layer of my skin.
Wish he’d penetrate something else…
“Heaven’s no! Nothing like that,” she chuckles
nervously. “The catch is filming starts soon, like really soon,
and it’s out of the country. Should I accept the role, the first
wave starts in two weeks.”
Silence, for more than a comfortable beat, all of us
bouncing our stares around the table.
Mom to Grayson.
Grayson to me.
Me to him, before cutting back to my mom.
“Where and how long?” he asks pensively, and if I didn’t
know any better, I’d say he sounds little…unnerved.
“Canada,” mom imparts. “I’d be gone for a month.
They’re planning on doing the bulk of the shooting here on
the lot, but have plans for location shoots in Canada, New
York, and Bali.”
 “So you’d have to travel a few times for this one?” I
press, mentally crossing my fingers.
She nods, her expression somber. I’d bet every pair of
heels I own, thought, that she’s jumping for joy on the
inside ‘cause when she travels, David goes with her. “I’m
afraid so. Would you both absolutely hate me if I took it? I
know it’s last minute, but… While this role is a bit outside
my comfort zone with being mafia romance and all, you
know me: always looking to expand my craft.”
While also fucking your PA without having to worry
about your husband.
“We could never hate you,” the husband in question
states, to which I quickly follow up with, “Yeah, mom. You
do what’s best for your career. If you think this is it, go for
it.”
And while she gushes about us being the best, most
supportive people in her life, Grayson and I stare each
other down from across the table.
Her being out of town means us in the house alone—for
a month.
Lots of things can happen in a month…and he’s fully
aware. And if there were ever an opportune time for me to
break him down, now would be it. I know it’s wrong, know
I’m, essentially, fucking over my mom, but she made her
bed, she chose David, and now she can lie in it.
I’m choosing Grayson—repercussions be damned.
This is going to be fun.
Let the games begin.

OceanofPDF.com
 ♫ Put It on Me - Matt Maeson ♫

THIS IS GOING to be the longest month of my life.

And I do mean the absolute fucking longest.
Being home alone with Lyric has never been an issue.
We’d grown accustomed to it, watching Nicolette come and
go as needed for the roles she’d accepted. But back then,
she was just my step-daughter and I was just her step-dad,
two people bonded together by matrimony. Now, she’s my
step-daughter, who’s not only attracted to me, but wants to
find her way beneath me.
And I’m the step-father who’s still trying like hell to
convince himself he’s not attracted to her—despite
imagining her while face-fucking her mother—when he very
much is.
Like I said, longest month of my life.
Nicolette left three days ago and since then I’ve holed
myself up in the CloudNine office. The day she left, I
actually stayed the night. It wasn’t intentional; I simply
leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes for a minute
too long, only to wake up to Nora gently probing my
shoulder the next morning. The last two nights, I’ve made it
a point to go home for the sake of showering and actually
sleeping in a bed—I’m too fucking old to be falling asleep in
odd positions—but I purposely wait until the wee hours of
the morning before stepping foot inside the house.
Apparently, I’m too old for that too ‘cause come ten o’clock
on Friday night, I’m dragging myself to my car, eager to get
home, put some food in my system, shower, and pass the
hell out.
The moment I turn onto my street, though, I know that’s
not going to be the case. One of the neighbors must be
throwing a party because there’s a slew of cars lining both
sides of the street, small groups of people walking toward
the music carrying through the air. Grip cinching tighter
around the wheel, I curse whoever decided to throw this
little shindig…only to realize it was me.
Or rather, Lyric I should say.
A deep-seated growl rumbles in my chest as I turn into
the circular driveway littered with bodies entering and
exiting my home, and open up the garage. I close the damn
thing right behind me, breathing through the blinding rush
of anger quickly surging through my veins. My jugular
throbs, heart rate thrashing in my chest. Who the hell does
she think she is? At no point did she ask me if she could
throw a damn party!
How would she ask when you’ve been avoiding her?
A simple text message would have sufficed.
Would you have said yes though?
 Hell no.
Then that’s probably why she didn’t ask.
Goddammit…
Takes me a good five minutes to properly rein myself in
before making my way inside the dimly lit house in search
of Lyric. But much like the exterior, there’s people
everywhere; drinking, dancing, laughing, chatting over a
song I recognize from one of those ridiculous TikTok
trends. Some notice me wandering through, parting like
the Red Sea to allow me passage, while others are too
inebriated to see anything at all. At this rate, I’ll never find
her, but it won’t be from lack of trying.
Loosening my tie enough to breathe easier, I trail
through each space on the first floor, scanning every face,
every body. She’s nowhere to be found, leading me up the
staircase to inspect the second floor. May God be with
anyone who thought it’d be a smart idea to come up here.
Thankfully, nothing but silence greets me in every room,
even hers, which means there’s only one more place she
could be…
The backyard.
Trotting back down the steps, I squeeze through the
masses as the familiar sound of Ariana Grande’s voice
booms through the house, courtesy of the DJ situated just
outside the patio doors. If I weren’t so hellbent on finding
the little brat, I’d be pulling the plug and shutting this shit
down right now.
More drinking, more dancing, more laughing and
chatting; that’s all I see the further I wander outside. The
pool’s littered with people, too, some of which look to be
putting on a free show for those in the near vicinity, if you
catch my drift. I breathe a sigh of relief, one that’s not lost
on me, when I note none of them to be the girl I’m looking
for.
Much to my dismay, though, the predicament I do find
her in is no better.
 Straddling who I recognize to be one of Nicolette’s old
co-star’s sons, Leland Cortez, on one of the patio chairs,
she licks into his mouth greedily, hips rolling into what I’m
betting is one hell of a raging hard-on. Leland meets her tit
for tat, tattooed hands palming her ass, her bare ass thanks
to the tiny bikini—yeah, another one—keeping her anything
but decent. Every swipe of their tongues matches the
tempo of my steps as I close in on them. Hell, the tempo of
my fucking pulse.
For someone who’s trying to prove he’s uninterested,
you’re failing miserably.
The thought only makes me that much more furious, not
only at my misplaced reaction, but at the fact that she
started all of this in the first place. And yet here she is
shoving her tongue down another man’s throat.
Should she not? You rejected her.
I didn’t reject her. I told her she knew better than to
send me that picture, let alone proposition me for sex just
to get back at her mother.
Exactly—rejection. You said no, she moved on. You on
the other hand…
Locking my subconscious in its little box, I situate myself
right behind the patio chair and cross my arms, staring at
the spectacle beneath me wordlessly. If Leland weren’t in
the way, this view might spark more of those visions I have
no business thinking about. Thankfully, she spares me,
undoubtedly feeling my affronted presence looming over
them, blue-eyed gaze dragging upwards to meet mine.
“Get. Up.” That’s all I offer, completely ignoring Leland
as he drops his dark head back to see who cockblocked his
quest for pussy.
Lyric heaves an unamused brow, the messy bun on top
of her head flopping around as she rears her skull
backwards. “What the hell for?”
“A word, Lyric. Now,” I grit.
“I have nothing to—”
 I’m pulling her out of his lap before she can utter the
rest of that rebuttal, literally dragging her toward the pool
house. She struggles enough to turn heads, her protests
just barely carrying over the music, but not a soul dares to
stop me. They’re not stupid. Most of them, if not all, know
damn well who I am.
As do the two people I find fucking on the pool house
bar when I wrench the door open.
“Get out,” my voice booms just a notch beneath
murderous, jolting them into action.
They scurry out in seconds flat, leaving Lyric and I alone
in the small space.
“I’m only going to ask you this once, so choose your
response carefully,” I start, shutting and locking the door.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
As I spin on my heels to face her, she lifts her chin, arms
crossed defensively. “Having fun. Something you know
nothing about, obviously.”
“Fun you shouldn’t be having when you didn’t even ask
permission to throw a party in the first place.”
Lyric rolls her eyes, igniting my blood further. “I’m a
grown ass adult, Grayson. I don’t need to ask for
permission.”
“You do when it’s my house.,” I toss back.
“I live here,” she counters.
“You live here, yes, but do you pay the bills?” I hate
playing that card, but it elicits the desired reaction,
knocking down her entitled attitude a peg or two.
“Well, no, but—”
“But nothing,” I snap. “Adult or not, you don’t pay a
dime and I would never ask you to. What I do ask for is
respect. This party is a lack thereof.” A huge lack thereof.
Same as her famous eyes rolls and the narrowed stare
she’s shooting at me right now. “How do you expect me to
ask for permission when you’ve actively been ignoring and
avoiding me, which, for the record, is one hell of a pussy
move.”
Breathe, Grayson, breathe.
“A text would have sufficed.” My jaw ticks as I say this,
the words ground between my teeth.
Not that it affects her in the slightest because her eyes
go for yet another spin. “Why? So you could ignore that,
too?”
“I wouldn’t have ignored you.”
“Oh, please. You would’ve pussied out again and—”
I snap like a goddamn twig, eating up the small distance
between us. And wouldn’t you know—that gets her moving.
For every step I take forward, she takes two back until
she’s lodged between the hard planes of my body and the
bar behind her. Dipping my head low enough to level our
stares, I bring the tip of my nose millimeters from her own.
“I’d watch yourself if I were you, little girl. I’m not one
of your daddies who’s going to let you mouth off to him
‘cause it gives you both a thrill. I’m your step-father; show
me some damn respect.”
Watching the mortified realization flashing across her
face brings me great, great joy. “You seriously checked out
my CloudNine profile!” she shrieks, eyes wide, carving a
grin on my face.
“I sure as hell did.”
“Invasion of privacy!”
“Public platform, sweetheart, remember? One I own.
Also clearly not so much of an invasion when you made it a
blatant point to tell both your mother and I that you have
one. Did you really think you were going to share that
information and I wasn’t going to look into it to ensure you
aren’t putting yourself at any sort of risk?”
“Is that it? Is that really it?” she questions, voice
dripping with both amusement and what I recognize to be
doubt. “Or were you hoping to find more pictures you could
pretend you don’t want to look at?”
 This girl.
“Cut the shit, Lyric. Stop trying to spin this and pin it on
me because you didn’t get the reaction you were hoping
for. You know what you did was wrong,” I grate.
“What’s wrong is my mom cheating on you and you
allowing it,” she snaps.
“I’m not allowing it, I just—”
“You are allowing it.” One of her perfectly manicured
fingers jams into my chest. “You’ve had many an
opportunity to confront her about it and you just don’t.
Again, pussy move.”
Okay, I lied. Now is the moment I snap. There’s no
contemplating it, no second-guessing it. It just happens.
It being my hand locking around her throat.
“You’re treading a very thin line right now.”
“Oooh, I’m so scared,” she chuckles. “I’m honestly more
surprised you’re willing to stand this close to me, much less
put your hands on me. If you scrolled through my profile,
then you know I like it rough, Grayson. This is right up my
alley, so please, do continue. Turn me around and spank me
while you’re at it—I like that, too.”
Fuck my life.
I release her like she’s just doused me in acid, taking a
singular step back and all. “Why are you such a fucking
brat?”
I shouldn’t be surprised, really. She’s always been a
brat, that one, and apparently, adulthood isn’t going to
change that.
“‘Cause I like being punished,” she quips, enunciating
the last bit slowly, her lips curling around the word.
A word that has the power to conjure another reel of
obscene images I do not need to be entertaining. I shake
them from my mind before they can multiply and will my
cock to refrain from making a fool of us both.
“This is far beside the point,” I growl, hands balling into
fists at my side.
 Lyric crosses her arms all over again, blonde head tilting
to one side. “What is the point, then?”
“You have thirty minutes to get all these people out of
here or I’ll do it myself.” And I will. I’ll pull the damn plug
on that DJ and push every motherfucker out of here.
“Noise ordinance doesn’t go into effect until midnight.
I’ll do it then,” she retorts.
“No, you’ll do it now,” I warn. “You want to please and
keep your daddies? Learn to follow simple directions.”
I shouldn’t have said that, I know it damn well, but
reining myself in and not reacting is becoming harder and
harder to subdue.
Unfazed as ever, she cinches her gaze. “What the hell
would you know about being a daddy?”
Oh, baby…
A mirthless chuckle bubbles in my throat as I retreat to
the door and unlock it, needing to get the hell away from
her before I do something I’ll end up regretting later.
“You’re talking to the man who created CloudNine for a
reason. I know more than you could ever imagine. Now
make it happen and get these people out of my house
before I take it into my own hands.”
“I have a few things you could take in your hands.” She
smirks, threatening another flicker of filth within the
confines of my mind.
“Thirty minutes, Lyric. I’m serious.”
Serious enough that she heeded my warning because
the party was over exactly ten minutes later, and I didn’t
see her for the rest of the night.

OceanofPDF.com
 ♫ Sweetest Pie - Megan Thee Stallion & Dua Lipa ♫

BANGING, that’s all I hear. Cabinets, drawers, and pans, to

be specific, which is not helping the jackhammering
radiating through my skull. The obnoxious sounds drag me
out of bed and down the stairs far earlier than I would’ve
cared for, where I find my wonderful step-father clanking
his way around the kitchen.
Something he’s one-hundred percent doing on purpose.
Retaliation at its finest, if you will.
“Do you mind?” I snap, squinting through the bright
lighting as I approach the island. “Some of us are trying to
sleep.”
 “Yes, well, some of us are also trying to make breakfast.”
He doesn’t even spare me a look as he says this, his focus
trained on cracking a couple of eggs into a bowl and
whisking them at lightning speed—unnecessarily loud I
should add.
Sliding onto one of the stools, I drop my head into my
hands and rub at my temples. “Making breakfast doesn’t
involve all that noise.”
“I was looking for the right pan,” he explains.
Right.
“Because you don’t know where the pans are? You cook
at least twice per week.”
Literally. If mom isn’t ordering some sort of high-end
takeout or bringing home a fancy ass meal perfectly crafted
by her chef friend, Fabian, Grayson takes it upon himself to
put food on the table. Just another reason why I don’t
understand how she can consciously and willingly cheat on
the man.
“I said looking for the right pan, not the pans. Nancy
moves them around all the time, you know this,” he
counters, drawing another comeback on the tip of my
tongue…until my head throbs again, effectively silencing
me.
I squeeze my eyes shut and breathe through the blinding
—
“Migraine?” Grayson hedges.
I nod silently.
“Shouldn’t have drank so much.”
I could’ve sworn he snickered, but as I drag my gaze on
him, there isn’t a hint of amusement on his face. Either
way, the fact he’s chiding me once again like a damn child
irritates the absolute fuck out of me. “Did I look drunk to
you last night?”
“Hard to tell considering I found you grinding in Leland
Cortez’s lap with your tongue down his throat,” he leers,
shooting me that pointed stare.
 I roll my eyes exaggeratedly. “Doesn’t mean I was
drunk.”
“In any case, none of it should’ve happened.”
None of it—meaning not just the fact he caught me in a
heated moment with one of Hollywood’s youngest, most
eligible bachelors, but the party itself, period. He’s never
gonna let me live this down, I swear.
“Why are you still going on about this? I got everyone
out within ten minutes of your little temper tantrum.”
He’s not a fan of the temper tantrum reference; I can
tell by the way he pins me with those almost translucent
greens again. “It’s the principle of the matter, Lyric. We
already discussed this. Are you hungry?” The fork he was
using to aggressively beat those eggs clanks against the
bowl as he stalks toward the fridge for some butter, and the
cabinet beside it for what sounds like Motrin.
Just the mention of food makes my stomach churn.
“Ugh, no.”
“Well, you need to eat or that hangover isn’t going
anywhere.” Said bottle of Motrin appears on the counter in
front of me. “Grab some water and down two of those.
Pancakes or waffles?”
“Neither. French toast.”
“That wasn’t an option. Pick one.”
“Fine. Waffles.”
“Thank you. Now, water and ibuprofen, go,” he
commands, and while I know I shouldn’t, and I mean really
shouldn’t, I still utter the words anyway as I slide onto my
feet.
“Yes, Daddy Dearest. Whatever you say.”
He stills, stock-fucking-still. “Lyric…” My name falls
from his lips in that warning tone, one I should probably
heed rather than chuckling and patting his shoulder.
“Lighten up, old man. I was pushing your buttons.”
“Not the buttons you should be—”
 “Lyric?” calls another voice I wasn’t expecting to hear
until much later from the foyer.
Fuck.
I freeze beside Grayson, who’s now gone completely
rigid, and feel rather than see his head crank in my
direction, gaze narrowed on my form as Ryan Masters
ambles into the kitchen.
“There you are,” my childhood friend chuckles. “Can’t
be leaving me alone in your bed like that, girl.”
Insult meet injury, I think to myself, pivoting slowly to
face the blond. “Hey.” I paint a smile on my lips. “Sorry. My
head was pounding. You look decent considering how much
you drank last night.”
He was plastered. Like, can’t walk straight, can’t see
straight plastered, hence why he stayed the night.
Ryan bobs his head and rubs a hand down the back of
his neck. “Trust me, I’m as surprised as you are. How’s it
going, Mr. Kane?”
Grayson simply nods as he continues whipping up the
waffle batter, an obvious indicator that he’s not remotely
pleased about my overnight guest.
“Do you want something to drink?” I ask.
“Yeah, please, and aspirin too, if you have some. I can
feel a migraine coming on.”
Mine is about to get infinitely worse.
Handing him the bottle of ibuprofen, I retreat further
into the kitchen to fetch two glasses. “You hungry?”
“Nah, I’m good. I need to get home before Ally’s due at
work.”
Ally? As in his sister?
“Holy shit.” The white cabinet door slips from my grip
and slams shut as his response sinks in. My eyes widen and
all. “She’s working now?” The last time I saw that girl her
tits had just come in.
Ryan pops the cap on the Motrin as I sidle up to the
fridge and fill the glasses with both ice and water. “She
started at Lola's a few weeks ago. Loves it, apparently.”
Lola’s is this cute little boutique on Rodeo Drive. Carlie
loves that place. We’ve shopped there plenty since it
opened a couple years back.
“Okay, now I feel hella old,” I muse.
Behind me, Grayson snorts and when I steal a peek at
him, sliding one of the glasses across the counter toward
Ryan, he’s shaking his head as if I’m clueless.
“Tell me about it. She’s talking about dating. Makes me
stabby as fuck,” my friend grumbles, popping two pills into
his mouth.
“You always did say you’d give her a hard time when we
got here. Bet your dad’s loving that too, huh?”
Ryan makes this face behind the rim of the glass. “Let’s
just say his shotgun collection has never been cleaner.”
“Smart man,” Grayson mutters, pouring some batter
into the now heated waffle iron. “Boys these days have no
manners.”
Neither Ryan nor I say a word as we exchange a look.
He might scream “everything is tubular surfer boy” but
he’s not an idiot, can feel the red-hot waves of disapproval
emanating from the man on the other side of the counter,
and takes that as his hint.
I wish he wouldn’t, though, because as much as I enjoy
giving Grayson a hard time, I hadn’t intended for him to
know Ryan spent the night. This is going to turn into
another argument, and it’s the last thing I need or want
with the current throbbing of my temples.
“Alright, well, I gotta go. Ally insists on being ten
minutes early. See you soon, L, yeah?”
I nod. “Yeah, we’ll plan something with Carlie and the
old crew. Beach day, maybe?”
“Sounds good to me,” he concedes.
It won’t happen. Ryan and I don’t see each other as
often as we used to when we were all still in high school.
And by often, I mean never, unless we run into each other
at a party or at one of the more popular clubs.
“I’ll walk you out, c’mon.”
“No need, I can show myself out.” He wraps a big arm
around me in a hug. “Thanks for taking care of my big ass
last night. Feel better.”
“You know I got you.” I squeeze him back. “Tell Ally I
said hey and that I’ll stop by Lola’s one of these days.”
“I will. See ya later, Mr. Kane,” he calls out over his
shoulder as he heads for the front of the house, leaving me
to my impending doom.
An impending doom that’s about to hit sooner rather
than later.
The second the door clicks shut, the sound echoing
through the now silent space, I feel Grayson looming
behind me like the formidable force he is.
“Are you serious right now?” The thunderous timber of
his voice trickles through one ear and zips down my spine.
“What?” I play it off, turning to amble around him for
the sink, but he whips an arm out, his hand slapping
against the fridge, effectively blocking me in.
“Two men in one night, Lyric? Are you fucking serious?”
My stare jumps up to his face, brows furrowed
defensively. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Did I not catch you with Leland last night?” he grits
almost venomously, narrowing my eyes further.
“I was making out with him, not fucking him.”
“You were still involved with him only to wake up next to
that kid…” He points toward the door, inching his face
closer.
I don’t move a single inch, lifting my chin and standing
my ground. “The keywords there are wake up. I didn’t fuck
either one of them. You heard him yourself; I took care of
him. He was inebriated beyond belief when I shut the party
down. I couldn’t let him go home like that.”
 “I agree, but you couldn’t have put him in one of the
guest rooms?”
“Didn’t think you’d be okay with that, and since you
were in such a shitty mood, I didn’t bother asking,” I carp.
“I would’ve preferred that to finding out he slept in your
bed.”
His admission—because that’s what it is—tied with the
way that vein in his neck bulges… My heart does this little
pitter patter thing, stomach whirling in excitement. It’s
crystal clear.
He’s jealous.
He’s jealous and I fucking love every second of it.
“Why does it matter?” I cock my head to one side. “We
slept, not fucked.”
“Either way, it’s not appropriate,” he growls.
Yeah, he’s so jealous.
My lips curl in satisfaction. “It’s not appropriate or you
don’t like knowing there was another man in my bed when
it could’ve been you?”
Grayson glares at me and vice versa, a hiccup of time
passing between us, until finally he grates a lethal,
“Enough.”
“Why?” The smirk on my lips widens. “Don’t like being
called out?”
“Enough, Lyric.” Those hypnotizing greens flash as he
says this, rousing a chuckle to life deep in my throat.
“You really need to get laid, Daddy Dearest. Your asshole
is showi—”
In a matter of seconds, my back hits the edge of the
counter, his well-built arms falling on either side of my
body as his lips drop to my ear. “Are you hard of hearing? I
said enough.”
And yet I’m just getting started.
Turning my head, close enough to kiss him if I was
feeling ballsy, I mimic his stance, bringing my lips to his
ear. “Heard you loud and clear, Daddy.”
 Okay, so maybe I am feeling ballsy…
“Lyric…” he warns through his teeth, his jaw taut
enough to crack teeth.
“Yes, Daddy?” I bat my eyelashes all seemingly innocent,
earning me an irate rumble within his chest.
“You’re absolutely maddening, you know that?”
“Most brats are. You know you like it,” I grin.
“What I’d like is for you to behave yourself,” he leers.
“Now why would I do that when misbehaving is so much
more fun?”
He doesn’t reply, or rather, the way he takes another
step into my bubble, pressing me flush to the marble at my
back is his reply. “You’re lucky the situation is what it is.
Otherwise, I’d have you tied to my bed, begging me to stop
after you’ve come so many times you can’t see straight.”
My pussy clenches at the visual now sitting at the
forefront of my mind, unleashing the brat signal and
wondering what the fuck we could do to press his buttons a
little more, and make that visual a reality. “So you’re a
pleasure Dom, huh? Good to know.” I walk my fingers up
his chest and bop his nose. “Don’t threaten me with a good
time, Grayson, ‘cause I might just misbehave that much
more to make it happen.”

OceanofPDF.com
 ♫ Daddy Issues- The Neighbourhood ♫

I’M in the office mid-week, in the middle of a meeting no

less, when Lyric’s name pops up on my screen with an
incoming call. The grinding of my jaw as an instinctual
reaction to her is at an all-time high. At this rate, I’ll end up
with fucking nubs for teeth. Between the bratty, sassy as
hell remarks and the way that name—Daddy—falls from her
lips, I’m more wound up than a goddamn spring. I’m also
way past the point of trying not to admit I’m attracted to
her because let’s face it—that ship sailed long ago.
With all morals and boundaries in tow.
 Lines that were once unquestionably clear and
impenetrable are now blurred. Weak. The only thing
stopping me from caving and giving her what she wants is
the last tiny bit of self-restraint left in my arsenal, which
truthfully isn’t much. I’m grasping at straws here,
reminding myself several times per day why this can’t
happen, why it’s wrong. She’s my step-daughter. I’m
supposed to be the father figure she never had, and the
mother who, oftentimes, fails her, too.
The same mother who promised in front of hundreds of
people to love me and only me for the rest of our lives, but
has since then broken that vow several dozen times over…
I let Lyric’s call ring through to voicemail and focus on
Alvin who’s currently leading the presentation on possible
new additions to the site. There’s a time and place to
dissect the fraying aspects of my personal life, and now
isn’t it. But then she calls a second time and a third, raising
the hairs on the nape of my neck as a series of alarm bells
blare. What if something happened? What if she got into an
accident? What is she’s hurt? Her mother’s out of town; of
course she’d call me first.
As five different scenarios plague my thoughts, I lean
toward Nora who’s faithfully at my side taking notes on her
laptop. “Lyric has called me three times in a row. I’m gonna
take this real quick and make sure everything’s okay.”
My assistant bobs her dark head in understanding,
typing away furiously at her keyboard. “Go right ahead, sir.
I’ve got everything jotted down.”
I thank her and shoot onto my feet, waving my phone at
a now wide-eyed Alvin. “It’s my step-daughter. Please do
continue. I’ll be back in a minute.”
The second I close the meeting room door behind me, I
accept her fourth call and lift the phone to my ear. “This
better be an emergency. I was in the middle of a meeting.”
“Hello to you, too, Grayson,” she huffs, a plethora of
voices and loud music resounding behind her.
 A clear indicator this is more than likely not an
emergency.
“What do you want, Lyric?” I grit, hightailing it to my
office on the other side of the long hallway, passing rows of
semi-emptied workspaces and floor to ceiling windows
along the way.
“I need you to run home, grab something off my bed,
and bring it over the shoot I’m at.”
She wants me to what? “Did you not hear the part where
I said this better be an emergency because I was in the
middle of a meeting?”
“Yes, I heard you, and this is an emergency. I was
running late this morning and must have forgotten to pack
one of the outfits for the shoot. It’s still on my bed. All I
need you to do is grab it and bring it over to me. Please,
Grayson, I beg you. This shoot is really important to me.”
The visual instantly slaps me in the face...
Lyric begging for my cock.
On her knees.
Undoing my belt.
Looking up at me with clear ocean blue eyes.
Fuck. Stop.
“Can’t Carlie do it?” I question gruffly, undoing my tie
just a smidge as my throat bobs through an abrasive
swallow and I burst into my office.
“No, she left for the weekend on a family trip.”
Of course she did.
“I literally cannot leave this office right now.” Lie.
“We’re going over new additions for—”
“Grayson, please, please, please. I’ll do anything,” she
whines, and fuck if it doesn’t affect me in all the worst ways
possible. “I can’t leave. Mom and Carlie aren’t here. You’re
my only hope. Please, it’s for Dior.”
The line goes silent for several moments as I lean over
my desk, head bowed in defeat, and weigh out my options.
Alvin and the team have been working on this presentation
for several weeks now. Up and leaving would tell them I
give not three fucks about all the hard work they’ve put in
to make CloudNine better. But on the other hand, I know
how hard Lyric’s been trying to work her way up the ladder
on her own name, without the aid of her mother’s. Dior’s a
pretty big deal…
“How far away are you?” I finally sigh, scrubbing a hand
down my face in defeat because here I am, about to say
fuck my name and my business—for her.
“I’m only ten minutes away from your office. You’ll be
gone for like twenty at the most, maybe half an hour if
there’s light traffic.”
“And the outfit is on your bed?”
Lyric hums. “It’s in a plastic garment bag. You can’t miss
it.”
“Send me the address. I’m on my way.” I end the call
before she can reply, and quickly shoot Nora a text to
dismiss the meeting and let the team know we’ll resume as
soon as I return.
Takes me just about fifteen minutes to make it home
using the backroads. I leave the car idling in the driveway
and burst through the front door, racing up the stairs as
fast as my legs will carry me. When I push into Lyric’s
dainty room, though, and approach her bed, my nails dig
painfully into my palms.
Why?
Because the outfit on her bed isn’t an outfit at all, at
least not something she could wear out in public. It’s
fucking lingerie, complete with garter belt and stockings.
The growl that rumbles in my chest is absolutely ungodly.
Doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see she’s one-hundred
and ten percent done this purposely. Another way to get
under my skin, to push more buttons, to push me closer
toward the goddamn edge.
To the point of no return.
 I drop my head back in pure and utter flaming
frustration and ask the big guy upstairs what I’ve done to
deserve this. I mean, really, what in the actual fuck have I
done to deserve this hellish brand of torture? Yes, I’m
attracted to her in ways I shouldn’t be, and yes, I’ve had
one too many inappropriate thoughts flicker through my
mind since she started this mess. But I haven’t acted on it.
I’ve resisted temptation at every turn, kept my distance,
and yet here I am still finding myself in situations that
threaten to jeopardize it all. Unfortunately for me, it’s too
damn late to turn back now. I left, I’m here, and she’s
waiting for me to show up with her “outfit.”
This is it, though, the last fucking time.
After I drop this off, I won’t put myself in any
compromising scenarios ever again. If that means reverting
back to avoiding her like the plague until she takes the hint
and her little infatuation with me dies down, then so be it.
I’m still fuming when I pull up to the studio Lyric’s
shooting at another fifteen minutes later. It’s chaos, people
milling about in every which way direction, not one of them
noticing my presence. Given she’s not behind the camera, I
assume she’s in one of the dressing rooms waiting for me
to show up, and since I seem to be some invisible force field
amongst all the bodies moving about, I show myself back
there, scanning each name plate on the doors until I’m
standing before the last room at the very end of hall.
The sight of her name—Lyric Taylor—does some weird
shit to my innards. My pulse, already thrumming in ire,
now thrums with something else, too. I can’t quite put my
finger on it, but I’m too pressed for time to give it much
thought, tamping it down as I force my way into the room
without a single knock.
Lyric startles at my sudden entrance, a baby pink
manicured hand flying to her chest. Blue eyes wide, she
watches as I shut and lock the door behind me, her outfit
draped over my shoulder.
 “Grayson,” she breathes. “Jesus, you scared me.”
“You should be,” I grate, stalking toward her with
precise steps while simultaneously trying not to notice the
nude fur shawl or micro curve-hugging sheer dress she’s
wearing. “Lying and setting me up for your own sick and
twisted pleasure.”
One of her perfectly shaped brows arches in question.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
Eye rolling is a Lyric specialty, but this time it’s me who
rolls my eyes as I hold the garment bag up to her line of
sight. “Nice outfit.”
Surprisingly enough, her expression remains completely
stoic. “I wasn’t lying; I did forget it, meaning this wasn’t a
set-up. Paranoid much, Daddy Dearest? Or perhaps cocky
fits much better in this equation. Not everything is about
you.”
Remember when I said not reacting was becoming
harder and harder to subdue?
Yeah, well, here’s a prime example of it.
The hanger slips from my grip, clattering
unceremoniously to the tiled floor. I’m on her not two
seconds later, backing her into the nearest wall. Before her
back makes contact, I spin her around and shove her face-
first into it, winding her curled tresses in my fist. A single
yank and our stares intertwine, her beneath me, me
towering over her.
“I’m neither paranoid nor cocky. What I am feeling is
anger. I’m mad, Lyric—really fucking mad.” The heated
words graze the skin of her cheek. “You think I don’t know
what you’re doing?”
“Clearly, I don’t, so why don’t you enlighten me?” she
quips.
Do not choke her out. Do not choke her out. Do not
choke her out.
I chuckle against the shell of her ear, barely biting back
the urge to nip at it, to yank her head aside and sink my
teeth into the smooth slope of her neck. “Oh, but you do.
You’re a goddamn cocktease, acting like this was all an
innocent request and not something done with one sole
purpose.”
“And what exactly is this sole purpose you claim?”
“Breaking me.” I press her further into the wall.
“Taunting me. Pushing me to fucking edge until I snap and
give you what you want.”
“Wrong again, Daddy,” she coos.
“Stop calling me that,” I grit.
“Why? ‘Cause you like it?” The husky sound of her
devilish laugh raises every hair on my body at attention.
“It’s not just me who wants it. You can deny it all you want,
but you want it, too. That said, I already said it once, but
apparently, I need to repeat myself. None of this was
planned. I really was running late this morning and thought
I’d grabbed all of my outfits before leaving the house.
Obviously, I didn’t, hence why you’re here right now.”
“I don’t buy it.” I really don’t. “How convenient that the
one outfit you forgot was lingerie, right?”
She hitches a shoulder. “Could have been any of them.
The set was at the bottom of the pile ‘cause I knew we
wouldn’t be shooting in it until the end.” Fist tightening, I
tug her head back further, drawing an all too appreciative
hiss between her teeth. “Just digging yourself a deeper
hole, Daddy. If this is your way of trying to intimidate me,
it’s not working. I like my hair pulled. I like when you’re
rough. I like when you—”
“You’re a fucking brat,” I growl.
“So I’ve been told.” She smirks. “Now why don’t you just
do yourself the favor and lift my dress up, pull my panties
aside, and sink your cock inside my pussy? You know you
want to. Or do you want me to change into that outfit first?
I’m sure you’ve been wondering what it looks like on me
since you saw it…”
 I swear to God my blood pressure skyrockets. Her
words, the visuals, our positioning. I’m gonna lose it if I
don’t get the hell away from her in the next two minutes.
“I’m leaving now,” I glower. “But this conversation is far
from over. We’re talking about this once and for all tonight.
Your bratty little ass better be home by 8pm. Understood?”
Lyric bobs her head as best she can with my grip still
holding her in place, the very corners of her lips curled in
mirth. “Yes, sir.”
So much for not putting myself in any compromising
scenarios ever again.

OceanofPDF.com
 ♫ If You Let Me - Alina Baraz ♫

“SO, YOU DID LIE, THEN?” Carlie presses, her voice filtering
in through the speakers of my little Audi as I flip on my
blinker and veer off the 405 toward Beverly Hills.
“I mean kinda, but not entirely.”
“What does ‘not entirely’ mean?” she laughs.
“Well, for starter’s you really are on vacation, I really
was running late, and I really did forget it. By the time I
realized it was still on my bed, I was already parked up at
the studio. If I would’ve left and gone back, I would’ve been
even later, so I said fuck it and hoped he’d be willing to
drop it off.”
 “That’s what I like to call a happy accident.”
“Same, but he was not remotely happy about it. He was
pissed. Hot, but pissed nonetheless. Like, when I tell you I
was pressed flushed to the wall with his dick against my
ass, I mean flush to the wall. And the way he pulled my
hair, ughhh…” A shiver zips down my spine at the thought
of it.
“He’s pissed because, clearly, he wants you. I saw the
way he grabbed you out of Leland’s lap at the party, the
jealous look in his eyes. He’ll fold soon and fuck the living
shit out of you, watch.”
“I don’t know, dude. He said he wants to talk about this,
and I quote, ‘once and for all’ tonight, and if I know him,
it’s going to be a long list of all the reasons why we can’t.”
“Or it could be conditions for it to happen,” Carlie
counters, throwing in a little sigh. “Why the fuck are you so
cynical all the time L? Learn to see the glass half full.”
Not with this. I want him too much. “Have you forgotten
I haven’t had the best luck with men? I’ve been strung
along, played—”
“Fucking Reggie,” she grumbles, not allowing me to
finish. She fucking hates him.
Rightfully so because Reggie Bryant was honestly the
worst one out of the small bunch. The asshole plays for the
LA Rams, and he’s one hell of a player alright; wide
receiver, womanizer.
Don’t worry, I got my revenge.
“I should’ve known better. It’s not like he had the best
reputation when we met. But yeah, he’s a prime example of
my shit luck with relationships.”
“Well, Grayson isn’t Reggie or any of the other
fuckheads you’ve had to deal with. He’s older, more
experienced, definitely doesn’t have time for games.”
“And he thinks I’m playing one, which, technically, I kind
of am. I’ve been trying to break him down since Mom left
and—”
 “And it’s working,” Carlie reminds me. “He’s breaking,
dude. If this supposed conversation isn’t about how you
guys have to keep this thing quiet and fuck each other’s
brains out, I’ll treat you to lunch every day for a month. If
I’m right, though, you buy me lunch for a month.”
“Fine, deal.” She’s so gonna lose. “I’ll text you later
tonight and let you know. I just pulled up to the house.”
“Works for me. Mom’s calling me down for dinner
anyway. She made some reservation for this restaurant
tucked in the Rockies and doesn’t wanna be late.”
The house is dead quiet when I finally make it inside and
shut the door behind myself. “Gray?” I call out, nothing but
the echo of my voice resounding off the walls. “Grayson?”
Still no answer.
He did say 8pm, didn’t he? Setting both my keys and bag
on the front table, I amble my way through the first floor in
search of him. He’s nowhere to be found, though. Not the
living room nor his office. The kitchen is empty too, and
that’s when something on the island catches my eye. Upon
closer inspection, I realize it’s a newly opened bottle of red
wine, a clean glass, and note beside it. The note reads:

Serve yourself and come outside.

My stomach clenches tightly in anticipation.

Could Carlie have been right?
With a slightly shaky hand, I fill the proffered glass to
the rim and take a hefty gulp of the merlot. Whatever it is
he wants to discuss, I’m sure as hell going to need
something to take the edge off. Half the glass now drained,
fill it again and take off for the back doors, stepping out
into the mild night, my heels clipping and clopping against
the pavers.
“You’re late,” Grayson imparts as I catch a whiff of what
smells like freshly grilled burgers.
 He looks fine as hell, still rocking the same all-black
outfit from earlier in the day, only now the sleeves of that
black button down are rolled up to his elbows and he’s lost
the tie, the top few buttons undone.
Can we say scrumptious?
“By two minutes. I was here on the dot. Stopped long
enough to read your note, fill my glass, and come out here.”
He chuckles, the sound void of any actual amusement,
and motions toward one of the patio chairs with the
spatula. “Have a seat.”
I do as requested and settle into the chair closest to him,
watching silently as he flips over the burgers and closes the
grill from over the rim of my glass.
Those clear, leafy greens slide up, meeting my blues in a
heated stare. For several minutes, neither one of us says a
word. We just regard one another until finally he reaches
for his wine glass, drains the remaining contents, and
sighs.
Deeply.
“I don’t even know where to start with you.”
Kissing me. Lifting my dress. Spreading my legs. I don’t
say any of this aloud, obviously, ‘cause I’m damn sure that’s
not what he meant, so I opt for a, “From the beginning”
instead.
Grayson steps around the grill and pulls out the seat
opposite of me. “I should’ve told you to bring the bottle
out.”
“I can get it.” I make way to rise from my chair, but he
holds out a palm and shakes his head.
“I’ll get it. Sit and stay there.”
My eyes narrow slightly. I wanna tell him I’m not a dog,
but the sheer amount of don’t fuck with me right now
swimming in his pointed gaze has me gulping down the
retort faster than I can inhale a breath.
Yeah, Carlie’s definitely gonna owe me that lunch. He
doesn’t look like he wants to discuss anything other than all
the ways we need to stay the fuck away from each other
and cut the tension before my mom comes home.
And that’s a huge problem for me ‘cause I don’t know if
I can do that.
Toying with him, getting a reaction out of him is too
much fun. Seeing the way lust flares uncontrollably in his
eyes, how he’s hanging on by a thread. I’ve grown
accustomed to it, relish it, need it.
Almost as badly as I need him.
He’s gone but a minute, if that, promptly refilling both of
our glasses before dropping into the seat. “Why did you
send me that picture, Lyric?” The question comes as he
downs another generous sip.
I shrug nonchalantly. “Because I felt like it.”
“Why? Have I ever given you a reason to think I was
interested in you?”
Kind of. “No.”
“Then why risk it? Why expose yourself like that to your
step-father?”
I shrug again. “Because I was interested in you. I have
been for quite some time now, and given what my mom is
up to behind the scenes, I thought you could use a little
fun, a distraction, a little relief.”
Grayson laughs quietly, mirthlessly, a scoff shooting free
from his throat as he turns away from me, staring off
toward the pool. “I can—but not from you.”
Oh please. “I call bull.”
His head snaps my way so fast, I’m surprised it doesn’t
snap off his neck. “Excuse me?”
Glare at me all you want, Daddy. “I’m not dense,
Grayson. I see the way you look at me.”
“Because you’ve given me no choice! You did this!” he
shouts, waving an accusing hand in my direction. “You
altered my thought process, how I viewed you and felt
about you. I can’t unsee it now!”
“Do you want to unsee it?”
 “Yes! You’re my wife’s daughter, for fuck’s sake!”
“Correction, your cheating wife’s very legal daughter.
You act like I’m still sixteen.” I roll my eyes just saying it.
“Because in my head, you still are.” Rising from his
chair, he stalks back over to the grill and rips the top open.
“That’s how I met you. I’ve watched you grow up, graduate
high school, date and get your heart broken. You’ll always
be that sixteen-year-old girl to me.”
My blood boils, every last drop of it. “That’s the
stupidest shit I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth,” I
leer, earning me yet another unamused narrowing of his
eyes. “Oh, don’t look at me like that! You know it’s true,
nothing but a lame ass excuse. This isn’t Peter Pan,
Grayson. Everyone grows up.”
“Do you want cheese on your burger?” he grits,
completely disregarding everything I just said.
“No. I’m not hungry.” I cross my arms, holding his gaze
without falter.
“Well, you’re going to eat, or we’re done here. So I’ll ask
you again. Do. You. Want. Cheese. On your burger?” He’s
not gonna budge, waiting expectantly for my reply.
“Yes,” I huff. I’m fuming as he stalks back inside the
house for what I presume is said cheese, my knee bouncing
restlessly beneath the table.
He’ll always see me as the sixteen-year-old girl he first
met? Is he kidding me right now?
It’s fucking crap and he knows it, so much that when he
returns with our food in hand and sets a plate in front of
me before sinking into his chair, he doesn’t utter a single
word.
The fully loaded burger and garlic parmesan fries look
out of this world, but my appetite is non-existent. I can’t
possibly eat with the way my stomach churns, sitting stock-
still with my eyes glued to the plate.
“Do you understand why this can’t happen?” he inquires
after a beat or two, swallowing down a bite of his burger.
 “No, actually, I don’t,” I deadpan.
Grayson wipes his mouth and reclines into his seat, a
heavy breath falling from his lips. “You don’t understand or
you don’t care?”
“Both,” I admit. “I don’t understand why you choose to
remain faithful to a woman who obviously doesn’t care to
do the same, which is exactly what makes me not give a
single fuck.”
“Why does it bother you so much that your mother is
cheating?” he presses.
“For starters, because I’ve been cheated on, so I know
what it’s like to be on the receiving end of betrayal, and
secondly, because you’re a good man, Grayson. You don’t
deserve it and she sure as fuck doesn’t deserve you.”
She doesn’t deserve him by a long shot.
He takes another hefty bite, watching me intently as he
chews it and puts it away. “So if you know what it feels like
to be betrayed, why on earth would you want me to do the
same to your mother? Two wrongs don’t make a right.”
“It’s not that I want to help you cheat on her… I
wouldn’t wish that on anyone. But we all have needs, and if
she’s not attending to them, well then…” I let him use his
imagination for the rest of that statement, shoulders
hitching casually.
“It’s not your job to fulfill the things she should want to
be doing with me,” he counters, cutting my stare over to
where he sits.
“And I know that. The difference between me and her,
though, is I actually want to. I wanna make you feel good,
take your mind off work after a long day, distract you from
all the bullshit going on in our lives.”
Another cumbersome pause hangs between us, both of
us boring into the other until finally he says, “You can’t,
Lyric. It’s not right.”
“Neither is she doing what she’s doing, and neither is
you allowing it, but here we are,” I grumble.
 “Do you wanna know why I haven’t said anything to
her?”
I nod. “Please, do elaborate ‘cause I truly don’t
understand why you haven’t.”
“Then eat.” He points to my untouched plate before
popping a few fries in his mouth.
“I’m not hungry.”
“Eat or like I said, this conversation ends right now.”
My gaze pinches as I snatch up the burger. “You’re an
ass.”
“And you’re a brat. What else is new?”
I don’t answer him, taking a few small bites to appease
him. After I’ve gotten through a quarter of it and some of
my fries, he continues.
“I haven’t confronted her for a couple of reasons, the
main one being I’d really like to catch her in the act, see it
for myself with my own two eyes before telling her to fuck
off.”
Every inch of my face contorts in confusion. “Why would
you ever want to witness that?”
Grayson shrugs, wiping the corner of his mouth as he
reaches for his glass. “Visual confirmation.”
“You don’t need it. I saw it.” I reallyyy saw it. “She’s
definitely fucking him,” I chuckle, and not of the amused
variety.
“Is that how you found out?” he questions.
“Yes and no. Much like you, I overheard her talking to
him late one night. I think you were already in bed. She
passed by my room and the bits I heard piqued my interest
given I knew she wasn’t talking to you, so I followed her
downstairs and eavesdropped on her conversation. A few
days later, I went to visit her on set to see if she wanted to
grab lunch. She was so caught up in the moment, she didn’t
even hear me open up her trailer. I stood there for a good
minute or two in complete shock before bolting.”
 If eye bleach were a thing, I would’ve used a whole
bottle. That image is still burned into my retinas.
“How long ago was this?”
“A while ago. Now what’s the other reason?”
“If I confront her, it’ll end in a nasty divorce with our
names plastered everywhere. I don’t need anything else on
my plate, much less the world sticking their nose in our
business.”
“So you’re just gonna go on like this for the rest of your
life?” I chide.
“No,” he shakes his head, “I just... I can’t afford to do it
right now. CloudNine’s doing really well. My focus needs to
be there.”
“CloudNine has been doing really well,” I retort. “You’re
just using that as an excuse, a way to prolong the
inevitable. Why bury yourself in your work when you can
bury yourself in me?”
His wine glass clinks on the table, green eyes pinning
me as he grits his usual warning. “Lyric…”
“What?” I shrug. “It’s true. No one will ever know. It’ll
be our little secret.”
“It would make me no better than her. Hell, it would
actually make me worse,” he mutters.
“No, it wouldn’t. It would make you a man who fell
susceptible to his step-daughter’s seduction when his wife
failed to uphold their vows.”
He looks at me like I’m insane. “Do you not hear how
bad that sounds?”
“Nope. All I hear is karma knocking on Mom’s door.”
Karma she deserves. She’s my mom, I’ll always love her,
but what she’s doing to this man is wrong, and if she
doesn’t want him, well, I’m sure there’s a line of women
who’d be readily available for him.
Me included.
“We can’t,” he says with finality.
“Why?”
 “Because we can’t. End of discussion. This has to stop.”
“Have you at least thought about it?” I press because I
want to know.
No, I need to know.
“Of course I’ve thought about it,” he titters, shaking his
head in defeat. “Like I said, you left me no choice.”
“So you are attracted to me then?”
Our stares realign as he lifts the burger to his mouth. “I
never said I wasn’t.”

OceanofPDF.com
 ♫ So Damn Into You - Vlad Holiday ♫

WE EAT IN SILENCE, this sense of uncertain finality hanging

over our heads. I can tell by the way she glances over at me
every few minutes, a subtle smirk curling her lips that she
doesn’t believe a single word that just came out of my
mouth.
And you know what?
I can’t fault her for it.
The constant tension between us is so damn thick, you
could suffocate on it, and if she calls me Daddy one more
time—I’m going to lose it. From what I could see on her
CloudNine profile, we’re compatible. What she seems to
enjoy, I enjoy too, almost every single box ticked off in
perfect succession. Let’s just say that if I weren’t so
hellbent on nipping this in the bud before it festers
anymore than it already has, I’d be tempted to delve deeper
into that and see just how compatible we really are.
Pushing the plate away from herself, she wipes the
corners of her mouth and exhales deeply. “I can’t eat
anymore.”
Don’t say it. Do not sa—
“Funny how you claimed not to be hungry, yet there’s
only a few stray fries left on your plate,” I counter.
Lyric rolls her eyes, head rocking side to side in mock
amusement with a “Ha. Ha. So funny” as she slides her
glass my way and taps at the rim. “More wine, please.”
“No can do.” I lift the empty bottle and give it a shake.
“We’re out.”
“Like out out or there’s more inside?”
“I think your mother has an open bottle in the fridge.”
“Perfect.” She’s out of her seat before I can stop her,
leaving me cursing under my breath as she strides into the
house.
The last thing either one of us needs is another drink.
We already knocked back an entire bottle, and if she’s
anything like her mother, alcohol will only encourage her to
act on her desires.
And it looks like she’s already somewhat there because
rather than taking her seat when she returns, she pulls out
the one beside me and plops her ass down. Her glass, then
mine, she fills both to the rim before effortlessly making
her move.
I tense as her legs drape over the arm rests and into my
lap, her smooth, polished feet resting on my thighs. I’m
about to protest because didn’t we just talk about how this
needs to stop when she shushes me, literally lifting a finger
to my lips.
“Relax, will you?”
 I gently nip said finger, a foolish result of the four
glasses I’ve downed in the last hour. “This is
inappropriate.”
“They’re just legs, Grayson. Chill,” she chuckles.
Just legs, she says.
She couldn’t be more wrong, though. They’re soft, subtly
tanned, sexy legs. Toned in all the right places, lush in all
the right places. Lyric’s a fairly slim girl; not your typical
model thin nor enticingly voluptuous, either, but she’s got a
body made for sin nonetheless.
A body you just told her you shouldn’t be noticing. Stop
it.
Kind of hard not to, all things considered…
I don’t even know where to put my hands, restlessly
searching for a solution when she laughs again and one of
her small palms curl around my wrist, guiding my arm
downward.
“God, will you fucking relax? I’m not gonna jump on top
of you.”
Her grip eases once I settle my arms over her legs, but
that’s not before I nearly chug every drop of the merlot in
my glass. I’m not an idiot, know exactly what she’s doing. I
admitted that I was attracted to her—maybe I am an idiot—
and she’s taking full advantage, calling my bluff on my we
can’t do this decision. The closer she can get to me, the
more she can prove I’m full of—
“Let’s play a game,” she suggests, eyeing my now empty
glass with a perked brow as she sips on her own.
“Or we can go inside and call it a night,” I toss back,
trying to reclaim some power here. “We ate, we talked.
There’s no need to—”
Lyric groans and rolls her eyes. “You’re being a buzz kill,
dude. It’s still early as fuck and I’m not looking to spend
the rest of the night watching TV. Step-dads are allowed to
hang out with their step-daughters, ya know? It’s not a
crime.”
 Did she… Did she just call me dude…and a buzz kill?
My blood simmers to life in a mere breath. I shove her
legs off of me and snatch the bottle off the table, refilling
my glass—yup, you guessed it—to the fucking brim. Clearly,
I’m gonna need it to deal with her, her antics, and all that
damned sass.
I’ll show her a buzz kill.
The second I return the merlot to its spot and recline in
my seat, her legs are right back on me. “Fine. What kind of
game?” I question, interested to see where she’s going to
take this.
“Go Fish?”
Is she serious? “I don’t think we own a deck of cards.”
“Hmm, you’re probably right. Monopoly?”
“If we don’t have cards, we definitely don’t have any
board games.” Nicolette isn’t one for game nights.
“Truth or Dare?” she hedges, her tone sweet and
seemingly innocent, but I know better.
Nothing with this girl is done innocently.
Knocking back another sip, I shake my head. “Definitely
not.”
Lyric flashes me the most unamused look known to
mankind, tilting her head aside and all. “Oh, my God.
Really?”
“Do I look like I lack brain cells?” I know how you’re
going to spin that,” I counter.
“You’re no fun,” she huffs, sending her eyes for another
roll. “What about Never Have I Ever?”
One of my brows hoists at the unfamiliar game. “What
the hell is Never Have I Ever?”
Her stare widens for two point five seconds before she’s
mirroring my keen expression. “You’ve never played?”
“Obviously not if I’m asking you what it is.”
Eye roll number three was just on the horizon, but a
squeeze to her calf stops it in its tracks. “So basically, I
state something I’ve never done, like for instance, never
have I ever been skydiving. If you have done it, you drink,
and vice versa.”
Okay, so that seems innocent enough… “Fine, I’ll bite.
You go first.”
“Never have I ever stolen something,” she starts, getting
more comfortable in her seat.
I don’t drink. I work hard for everything I have and it
never would’ve flown as a kid. My mom, may she rest in
peace, would’ve whooped my ass. And my father…that
prick would’ve killed me.
My turn.
“Never have I ever played hooky.”
Lyric takes a sip without hesitation and as I shake my
head admonishingly, she shrugs and flashes me a grin.
“Never have I ever ridden on a motorcycle.”
Drink. It was fun. Not something I’d wanna do everyday,
though. “Never have I ever lost a bet.”
Again she drinks. I’m tempted to ask what said bet
involved, but knowing her, it’ll likely be something her step-
father should not know about. “Never have I ever broken a
bone.”
Another drink.
“What did you break?” she inquires, genuinely curious
from what I can tell, too.
“My arm. I’d just learned to flip dive off the dock of my
mother’s best friend’s summer home, and got a little too
close to the edge.”
Lyric cringes. So do I. Can still feel that shit as if it
happened yesterday. “Never have I ever dined and dashed.”
This time, she doesn’t drink, and I find myself uttering
the two words I probably shouldn’t say to her before I can
process it. “Good girl.”
The very corner of her lips quirk, but surprisingly
enough, she doesn’t comment, moving onto the next
question. “Never have I ever crashed a wedding.”
 Drink, and her mouth pops open at that one, gaping
expression more impressed than anything else.
“What? Who's? Anyone I know?”
“Probably not.” Though if she watches porn, which I’m
betting she does, yes… “Never have I ever been on a blind
date.”
She doesn’t drink and I’m honestly surprised to say the
least. “Really? I would’ve guessed yes.”
“Carlie tried to set me up once, but we have very
different tastes. I trust her with my life. The men
department, not so much.” We share a chuckle as she
visibly racks her brain for what to ask next. “Never have I
ever had a threesome.”
Anddd there it is, the not-so-innocent spin I was waiting
for.
I freeze in my seat, hoping my face remains as even and
stoic as I’m intending it to be. “Lyric, seriously?”
She scoffs a laugh and makes a show of nearly rolling
her eyes out of their sockets before I can stop her. “It’s a
common Never Have I Ever question, Grayson. C’mon, just
answer it.”
Don’t do it. She’s baiting you.
Do it. Don’t be a pussy.
Don’t do it, Grays—
Drink—a more than generous sip at that in an effort to
silence the voices in my head. She doesn’t seem remotely
shocked, and while it’s clear she wants to ask questions,
she doesn’t, motioning for me to continue.
“Never have I ever kissed someone of the same sex,” I
fling back, knowing deep down I damn well shouldn’t
encourage her, but not giving a single fuck anyway.
A small buzz is hitting me and it’s her turn to be
uncomfortable. Except she’s not, taking a drink without
batting a lash. Me, on the other hand, I’m trying not to
imagine what that looks like within the confines of my
mind.
 Shit.
“Never have I ever had sex in public,” she probes.
Drink. “Never have I ever sent a dirty text to the wrong
person.” And yes I mean me, a detail she’s one-hundred
privy to based on the smirk devilishly curling her mouth as
she takes another sip.
“If I understood the rules of the game correctly, you’re
supposed to drink if you have done it,” I censure.
“Exactly. That’s why I’m drinking,” she quips.
“Wasn’t really the wrong person, remember?”
Silence, but it’s not uncomfortable in an awkward way.
It’s uncomfortable in that the sexual tension is suddenly so
goddamn thick again I almost can’t breathe way. My gaze
tracks up her body of its own accord, starting at her legs
and zoning in on how thick and luscious her thighs look
from this angle, thanks to how far that little sky blue dress
has ridden up. I keep on, up her torso, over those tits
begging to be freed, the rise and fall of her chest a tell of
how much she’s struggling to fill her lungs, too.
Her lips..
Those hypnotizing, clear blue eyes.
God, she’s gorgeous.
“Never have I ever wanted to fuck my step-daughter so
badly I avoid her, tell her she’ll always be underage in my
head, and use the excuse that I’m married to her cheating
mother so I don’t act on my desires,” she murmurs, pulling
me out of my observation and back into the moment.
This girl…
My grip tightens around the wine glass, but I don’t lift it.
I refuse.
“You better drink, Daddy, or I’ll force your mouth open
and pour what’s left in the bottle down your throat myself.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” I challenge. Stupidly, I should add,
because I should’ve known she would.
No sooner do the words leave my mouth before she’s
snatching the wine bottle off the table and falling into my
lap, one leg on either side of me. Every inch of my body
locks up tighter than Fort Knox, and judging by the
satisfied smile slowly spreading across her beautiful face, I
probably look like a deer caught in headlights.
“Open up,” she demands.
I don’t. I don’t move, don’t speak, just regard her, the
semi-erratic heaving of my chest coming faster and faster
at the knowledge that we’re in one hell of a compromising
position.
“Fine,” she chuckles, bringing the bottle to her lips. A
quick tip of her head and the remaining liquid drips into
her mouth.
And then she blows my mind.
Purposeful fingers seal around my jaw, squeezing,
parting my lips enough for her to lean in and trickle the
wine past them. My cock stirs beneath my slacks at her
show of dominance and I try, I swear to God I do, but
there’s no holding back the groan that resounds from my
throat.
“Am I still sixteen to you now?” she breathes, nothing
but millimeters separating her mouth from mine.
Again, I don’t answer, throat bobbing as I swallow down
the merlot, my hands held out at my sides to avoid doing
anything I’ll regret later.
What I’d regret right then in that moment, though, is not
answering her, because two seconds later, she rolls her
hips into me, whirring a hiss through my teeth.
“Answer me. Am I”—another roll—“Still sixteen”—and
another— “To you now?”
“No,” I grit, mentally pleading with my cock not to
engage.
But he does, he jerks hard enough she feels it,
prompting her to carelessly discard the wine bottle on the
seat beside us. “Then stop giving me bullshit excuses and
give in already.”
“I can’t. We talked about this.”
 “Yes, you can.” Her lips just barely brush mine as she
grinds against me, fingers threading into the back of my
hair. “You’re allowed to be selfish, to choose yourself for a
change. You only live once.”
“It’s not right,” I try again, the last bit of my resolve
withering away the longer she pins me to this damn chair.
“Neither is my mom playing you for a fool.”
“There’s lines, Lyric.”
“Lines I’ve already crossed. Cross them with me.”
She’s right.
No, she’s not. Stay strong, Grayson.
“Lyric…” I grate, mentally beseeching her to have mercy
on me.
“Hmmm?”
“Off. Get off.”
“That’s what I want—to get you off,” she counters, her
teeth tugging at my bottom lip, drawing free another
involuntary groan. “Just relax and put your hands on me,
Grayson. I promise I’ll make you feel good.”
That’s what I want.
To get you off.
Put your hands on me.
I’ll make you feel good.
My. Head. Swims. It’s like every drop of the merlot is
finally hitting me full force, stampeding through my veins,
igniting my blood. I don’t know what the fuck to do. Half of
me agrees with her, pleading with me to just go for it, to
dive in headfirst and explore every inch of her. To take
everything she’s willing to give. To choose my-fucking-self.
The other half, though, now holding onto that last
frazzled thread for dear life, drowning beneath the choppy
waves of lust, implores me to keep my head on straight. To
think about the consequences and how drastically feeding
my baser needs will alter everything moving forward.
Do it.
Don’t do it.
 Do it.
Don’t do it.
“Do it,” she whispers, as if reading my thoughts. “Do it,
Daddy. Let me—”
Fuck it.
All rationality slips into oblivion and the devil on my
shoulder finally wins the battle. I crash our mouths
together with such speed and such force, Lyric gasps on
contact. A hand tangled in her hair, an arm curled around
her waist, I devour her lips, my tongue licking hungrily in
her mouth. She’s so responsive, more than willing to
accommodate the invasion and easily falling into the pace I
set as she melts in my embrace. She literally molds against
me like she was always meant to be there. A sweet little
moan meets my ears then, a relieved sigh blasting into my
mouth, provoking an appreciative groan deep inside my
throat. She tastes sweeter than I ever could’ve imagined,
so right and yet so damn wrong.
A heady combination of heaven and hell.
“Finally,” she sighs again, rocking into me and my now
very hard cock. “Fucking finally. Take whatever you want.”
I want it all.
“Touch me, Grayson. Please touch me.”
Her voice… It’s so needy, breathy, brimming with lust.
I’m useless to deny her, my fingers tightening in her hair,
yanking her head back. With her neck bared, I start down
the smooth column, kissing, licking, nipping, and sucking
my way down to her chest.
The soft, rounded tops of her breasts…
“Oh, God, right there,” she whines softly. “Do it, do it, do
it.”
“Do what?”
“Touch me.”
“Where?” I grin against her skin ‘cause I know where—
but she’s gonna work for it.
“Right there.”
 “Where is there, Lyric? Use your words.”
Another whine shoots past her lips as she bucks
impatiently in my lap, her gaze still forced on the dark sky
above from the force of my grip. “Why the need for
specifics? I just told you…”
“Because I wanna hear you say it. Tell me what you
want.”
“My tits, please.” She all but rips both the dress and bra
straps off her shoulders. “Touch them, lick them, suck on
them.”
“There it is. That’s a good girl,” I hum, reaching a hand
around her to snap the bra band open. “See? Was that so
hard?”
Lyric shakes her head as the lacey garment falls
between us, exposing the bane of my existence—or banes, I
should say—in the flesh. Seeing them through my phone
screen was one thing, but seeing them up close and
personal, perky and full?
Fuck.
I hesitate for just a moment, tentatively reaching out for
them with unsteady hands. Touching her like this ensures
there’s no coming back from this. Kissing her, I could move
past—maybe—but tonguing her pretty pink nipples, feeling
the soft weight of her breasts?
Yeah, there’s definitely no going back from that…
“Just fucking do it already,” she fusses, guiding my
hands the rest of the ways, and the second I squeeze, she
drops her head back, shuddering in anticipation.
“Perfect handfuls,” I muse aloud, bringing one up to my
mouth, my tongue flicking the rigid peak one, two, three
times before sucking it between my lips.
Rolling the other between my fingers.
It’s right about then the world around us and all of its
possible repercussions drowns out into nothing and
instincts kick in full force. Her and me, that’s all that exists
right now; feeling every delicious inch of her body, hearing
those cock-twitching moans, watching her come apart for
me…
“God, yes, that feels so good,” she mewls, and I’m so
swept up in the moment, in how soft and decadent she feels
in my mouth, I don’t register her steering my hand between
her legs until the pads of my fingers brush the lace of her
panties. “I want you here. And then I wanna taste you.”
Popping off her nipple, I drag a knuckle through the soft
material, my lips working their way back up her chest, her
neck. She’s warm as hell, wet, a fucking dream, honestly.
“Naughty girl. You want my cock in your mouth?”
Lyric nods almost frantically, working on undoing the
buttons of my shirt. “Every inch. I wanna make you come so
hard, you can’t form a coherent sentence when I’m done
with you.”
Jesus Christ.
With my knuckle still teasing her, I wrap a hand around
her throat and pull her closer, going for round two with her
mouth. Tongue, teeth, every movement is lithe yet languid,
precise and purposeful. She follows my lead faithfully, her
main focus on working my length free from the confines of
my slacks, and once she’s successful, stroking me like it’s
her life’s mission, I ease back, curling my arms behind my
head. “Go for it, baby. Give it your best shot.”
Lyric hums deviously as she climbs off my lap and
presses one last kiss to my lips. The way she sinks to her
knees has my cock jerking in her grasp, anxious for her
touch, for her hot little mouth, to see how different she is
from her mother…
Starting at the underside of the base, her stare tangled
with mine, she drags her tongue up to the tip, luring a hiss
through my teeth. She teases the tip for several moments,
almost lovingly, before wrapping her lips around me and
gliding half way down my length.
Then back up.
Down.
 Up.
Another round of tormenting flicks to the tip and she’s
going back down…only this time she takes all of me.
“Fuuuck.” My head falls back of its own accord, hands
gripping the armrests for dear fucking life. The urge to
rake them in her hair and guide her movements is nearly
impossible to tamp down, but I focus on what she’s doing
and the fact she doesn’t need guidance.
She knows exactly what she’s doing and she does it with
such zeal, like getting me off and making me feel good is
equally as gratifying as receiving—the complete opposite of
my wife.
“So good, baby. You’re doing so good,” I praise, which
only fuels her to double her efforts.
Wrapping her hand around the base, she pumps it as she
anchors her attention on the tip. Flicks of her tongue, light
nips of her teeth, it’s sublime, igniting the fuse at the base
of my spine as my balls tighten in response.
“Keep that up and I’m gonna blow,” I warn, righting
myself to watch her. “Unless you want me coming in that
delicious little mouth, you better ease up.”
Evidently, said warning means shit because she keeps
on, gazing up at me with nothing but determination in
those clear ocean blues.
Could she be any more perfect?
“I’m serious, Lyric. I’m gonna come if you don’t stop.”
And again she doesn’t, removing her hand to go deep
again, taking me all the way to the back of her throat. My
hips piston involuntarily just once, engaging her gag reflex,
and it’s only then she eases back with a smirk, a visible
string of saliva clinging to both the head of my cock and
her bottom lip.
I’m done, absolutely done, pulling her off her knees as I
shoot on my feet, the chair scraping against the pavers.
“Panties off. Get on the table,” I order.
 Lyric moves with not an ounce of hesitation, shimmying
the garment down her legs as I drop my pants. She’s
climbing on the hard surface and spreading her legs just as
quickly. The movement rides that little dress all the way up
her legs, exposing the part of her I’ve been both dreaming
of yet dreading to see.
You thought I was a goner before? I’m double fucked
now.
She’s completely bare, smooth as all hell, wet and
waiting and wanting…
Shit.
Sidling up to her, my cock caught in my fist, I run the tip
between her pussy lips, burying my face in the curve of her
neck. “So wet already. This for me, baby?”
“Yes.” She shudders, fingers curling around the front of
my shirt. “All for you.”
I brace myself on her thigh, squeezing the soft flesh as I
continue the torment; up and down, up and down, over and
over again. Every swipe draws forth the sweetest of
whimpers, and by the time she scoots closer to the very
edge, desperate for me to fill her, she’s a soaking mess.
“Please,” she whines. “Please do it.”
“Do what?”
“You know what.”
“Say it,” I demand, the very, very tip of my head already
breaching.
She’s gonna kill me once I get inside her.
Lyric smooths her palms up my chest, locking her arms
around my neck as she brings her lips to my ear and tugs at
the lobe. “Fuck me, Daddy.”
“Good girl,” I groan, unable to withhold it. “Protection?”
“Don’t have it, don’t need it. I’ve got the implant.”
“Lyric…” I can’t fuck her bare. I can’t. I’ll be triple fu—
“Relax.” She kisses her way along my jawline, scooting
the slightest bit closer to work me inside. “We’re covered
and I’m clean. I wouldn’t want a barrier anyway. I wanna
feel you. Every solid inch, every vein, every rid—”
I’m in. Against my better judgment and with nothing but
a single thrust and I’m in—filling her, burying myself until I
bottom out, hitting the deepest part of her. The sound that
leaves me is purely carnal and nothing short of primal, eyes
squeezing shut in bliss as my head lolls back. Every hair on
my body goes rigid at attention as she gasps in relief, her
body molding to me, accepting me as if I was always meant
to own it.
“Oh, my god,” she moans. “You’re so big.”
And you’re so small. So fucking tight.
“If it’s too much, tell—”
Setting a finger to my lips, she shakes her head. “It’s
perfect, you’re perfect. Keep going.”
I hold my thrusts steady, not too slow, not too fast. One
or the other will have me coming far too quick. I already
know I’m not gonna last as long as I want to. She feels too
damn good.
“Faster,” she breathes. “Faster, please.”
“I can’t,” I rasp, my cock already pulsing harder and
harder with each thrust. “I’ll come.”
“Who gives a fuck? We can go again.”
She’s got a point… “How hard do you want it then?”
Fingers raking through my hair, she tugs at the roots,
forcing my eyes on her. “Rail me.”
This girl is going to be the death of me.
I give it to her exactly how she wants, curling my arms
beneath her legs for leverage, holding nothing back. My
breaths come in panted growls, increasing in volume as she
moans for me and praises my strokes, her tits bouncing
with every thrust.
“Play with your clit,” I command, knowing that as soon
as she falls apart, I’ll be right there with her.
Leaning all her weight on one hand, she brings the other
up to my mouth, running two fingers along the seam. “Wet
them for me.”
Yeah, I’m done for.
I open for her and lap at those two digits, drenching
them in my saliva. Satisfied they’re now wet enough, she
pulls them free and sets them to that sensitive little bud,
rubbing deft circles in time with my movements.
The fuse at the base of my spine returns full force, my
cock already throbbing in warning. “I need you to come,
baby. I’m right there.”
“Just a little more,” she pants, rolling her hips to meet
me tit for tat. “Just a little bit more and I’m gonna come all
over your dick.”
I can’t wait.
“Give it to me, Lyric,” I growl, relishing the sound of our
skin slapping in the silence of the night. “Fucking give it to
me, let me have it.”
A few more purposeful strokes and she’s falling apart.
For me. She’s falling apart for me, with my name on her
lips. It’s the most beautifully erotic thing I’ve ever seen in
my entire life, a sight I engrain in my memory before
succumbing and emptying myself deep inside her.
Mine, a small voice in my head whispers. But I push it
away, far the fuck away, and focus on the fact we’re
definitely going for round two.
‘Cause I could watch her come all day, and I’ll be
damned if we don’t go all night.

OceanofPDF.com
 ♫ Wiped Out! - The Neighbourhood ♫

THREE TIMES. I fucked her three times last night.

Outside on the patio table.
The couch in the living room.
And my bed.
The bed I share with her mother. The same one she’s
still in right now, sleeping soundly on her stomach while I
get ready for work.
I observe her from the end, rolling up my shirt sleeves
far more aggressively than necessary. There’s a pit in my
stomach that refuses to dissipate since the high of our little
rendezvous lifted, one I know without a doubt is built upon
guilt. Regret.
Was it the best night I’ve had in a long time?
Yes.
Doesn’t change the fact it never should’ve happened.
The moment she situated herself in my lap, I should’ve
moved her, should’ve gotten up and called it a night. After
all, I’d already told her we weren’t happening, that it
couldn’t happen. But we’d been drinking; a bottle and a
half to be exact, and alcohol fuels bad decisions. I mean, I
fucking called it, didn’t I?
It was bad enough I was carrying around the whole nude
text message debacle, stowing it away in the deepest
recesses of my mind so I could fucking live with myself for
enjoying the sight of my wife’s daughter.
Now I’ll have to live with this too—fucking her daughter
—for the rest of my life.
What is there to feel guilty about? my subconscious
rings out. Lyric is right, you know. Yes, she’s your step-
daughter, but your wife doused your vows in gasoline, lit
them on fire, and flushed the ashes down the toilet. You
think she loses sleep at night?
No.
Then stop giving a shit and let yourself indulge. Lyric is
of age, beautiful, has one hell of a sexual prowess, and
while you claim her brattiness drives you mad, you know
you love that shit. You’re a brat tamer, Grayson. She needs
someone like you in her life. She was made for you.
No, she wasn’t. I’m supposed to be her father figure, not
feeding some pseudo-incest affa—
Will you, for one second, stop trying to convince yourself
she’s anything other than a willing adult? Step-daughter or
not, she’s not a child. She’s a woman with needs and
desires, and she actually gives a fuck about yours.
That’s what I want.
To get you off.
 Put your hands on me.
I’ll make you feel good.
Her words from those final moments before everything
changed forever echo within my mind. My cock kicks
beneath my slacks, not at all remorseful of the fact we
buried ourselves deep inside her. Hell, he’s eager and
ready for another round.
Another round that can’t and won’t happen.
That’s what you said the last time.
Well, this time my wall will be impenetrable. No matter
what the little vixen in my bed says or does, we will not be
participating in an encore performance.
You’re an idiot. One bat of those lashes and you’ll fall to
your knees for another taste.
I ignore the ridiculous thought and pad into my closet to
finish getting ready. Vest, tie, Oxfords; done. I’m opening
the garage and easing the Bugatti down the driveway less
than ten minutes later.
It’s still early, 7:41 according to the clock on the dash,
leaving me enough time to stop and grab some coffee for
me and the early birds. They love that shit. It always puts a
pep in their step when boss man waltzes in with good
coffee in hand, ensuring their work ethic and the overall
positive office vibes remain immaculately intact.
Americano with two sugars for me.
An iced Spanish Latte for Nora.
And a few dark roasts for the others, cream and sugar
on the side so they can fix it up however they like.
By the time I make it through the drive-through line,
pay, and make it to the office, it’s almost 8:15.
The sleek elevator dings upon arriving on the fifteenth
floor. Hellos and good mornings are instantly thrown my
way as I stride down the sea of still mostly-empty cubicles
to my office. As always, I return them with a smile and a
friendly tip of my head. Nora’s hot on my tail the second I
stroll past her desk with customary notebook in hand.
 “How was your big evening, Nora?” I inquire, setting the
cupholders on my desk and my laptop bag on the floor.
She just recently opened a CloudNine account—which
surprised the absolute fuck out me to be quite honest—and
asked if I would vet this guy who’d asked her out to dinner
after several weeks of chatting. I couldn’t find anything in
his background check and his profile was quite open,
shamelessly listing his kinks and what he’s looking for in a
potential partner. He also frequents Bluebird quite often,
which is one of the best sex clubs in LA. I’ve been there
several times myself, pre-Nicolette of course.
“Oh, it was fine.” She blushes, tucking a wayward strand
of dark hair behind her ear. “He’s a bit more forward than
I’m used to and really intense.”
“Good intense or bad intense?”
“Good, I think. I’ve never had a man look at me the way
he did. I could feel it down to my toes.”
“Did it make you uncomfortable?”
“No.” She drags her head side to side. “But it made me
kind of nervous, like butterflies swarming my stomach
nervous.”
A knowing chuckle rumbles within my chest as I
dislodge her coffee from the cupholder and extend it her
way with straw in tow. “Butterflies are good. You want
butterflies. I trust he behaved himself?”
Nora nods and peels off the safety seal from the top of
her lid, plopping in the straw and taking a quick sip. “We
ate, talked until they practically kicked us out, then headed
to Marble Slab for some ice cream. After that he drove me
home, asked if he could kiss me instead of assuming I’d be
okay with that on our first date, and that was it.”
“No second date?” I hedge.
“Next weekend.” Her cheeks heat all over again. “He
asked right before I got out of the car.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear it went well and you had a good
time. You deserve some fun in your life with how hard you
work,” I affirm.
“Thank you, Mr. Kane. I appreciate it.” She smiles and
tips her head graciously. “Is there anything you need from
me right now or did you want to go ahead and get settled in
before we review your schedule for the day?”
“Go relax and enjoy your coffee. We’ll get started at 9,” I
dismiss her, parking my ass in my chair.
With a curt nod, she slips out of my office, clicking the
door shut as I boot up my computer and take that first
welcome sip of my coffee. The dark, bitter espresso slides
down my throat, promising much-needed energy and
productivity to make up for yesterday’s abrupt exit. I
haven’t even finished logging in, though, when my phone
vibrates in my pocket, trapping a frustrated groan in my
throat. It’s more than likely Nicolette. She usually calls
early in the morning when she’s out of town, a tactic I’ve
come to learn so that she doesn’t have to worry about
wasting her precious time and checking in with me later.
Only it’s not my wife.
It’s Lyric. A text from Lyric with a video attachment, to
be exact.
Jesus fucking Christ.
A small fountain of coffee pours out from the spout of
the plastic lid as I slam the cup onto my desk. My heart
instantly catapults into my chest cavity.
Do I open it? Ignore it?
The latter, you idiot. It has to be the latter. I’m at work,
don’t have time to be falling into one of her traps—because
that’s exactly what this is. She interrupted my workday
yesterday, feigning an emergency that was far from it, and
now here she is somewhat trying again. And this time she’s
taunting me with a visual.
Yep, I’m ignoring it. I have to, tossing the phone onto my
desk and returning my attention where it needs to be—
work.
Open schedule.
 Open email.
Read through one of many emails.
That’s as far as I make it before my gaze cuts back to
the phone of its own accord. Evidently, my attention span is
shit when it comes to anything involving Lyric Elizabeth
Taylor. I know they say curiosity killed the cat, but I’m
reaching for my phone before I can rein in an ounce of self-
control and click on the notification.
Our text thread pops up, revealing what looks to be like
a seemingly innocent video. Knowing her it’ll be anything
but. My thumb hovers over the play button for several long
moments as I mentally debate whether or not to view it.
Eventually, I find myself clicking on it, dropping the volume
on my phone as low as it’ll go just in case…
She’s still in my bed, holding out the camera somewhere
near my pillow. Her blonde hair’s a mess, a devious smile
stretching across her perfect lips. “Good morning,” she
hums, her voice sultry and raspy from sleep. “I rolled over
to cold sheets and was slightly confused by the lack of you
in them.” Her fingers cinch around said sheets, hugging
them to her naked chest. “Then I remembered it’s Thursday
and not the weekend, which means you’re working. What
time are you coming home? I want more of last night.”
The video cuts and my stomach clenches as I lock my
screen, head slamming back into my seat. I knew this was
coming, her thinking there was going to be repeats and
what not. Why wouldn’t she when I told her we’d never
happen and less than an hour later I was buried to the hilt,
bringing her to the edge, her delicious moans vibrating
through every part of my being.
I fucked up.
I fucked up royally.
And while I don’t want to hurt her—that’s the last thing
I’d ever want to do—I have to handle this now before it gets
any worse.
Me: There can’t and won’t be anymore. Last night was a
mistake.

OceanofPDF.com
 ♫ Bad Girl - Avril Lavigne ♫

DING!
The telltale sound of the elevator as it smooths to a stop
on the fifteen floor alerts the employees of CloudNine of my
arrival. Several heads turn my way as I sashay out of the
cart in direct route to Grayson’s office, intrigued
expressions flittering across their faces. I flash them my
best smile, head held high, and zero in on my target.
He won’t be expecting me; I never replied to his text—
which is exactly the whole point. I want to catch him off
guard.
 His assistant, one he doesn’t fuck—unlike my mother—
clearly doesn’t recognize me. She wouldn’t, honestly. I’ve
only been here once before with my mom when she and
Gray first got married. Nora rises from her seat with a
quickness when she realizes I’m not stopping to check in
with her first.
“Miss? Miss you can’t go in there,” she blurts, nearly
tripping over her own two feet as she races to stop me from
going any further.
She’s a tiny, voluptuous thing, though, and while I’m by
no means considered tall, I have legs for days, aiding me in
reaching Grayson’s office before she’s successful.
“Miss, I said you can’t—” I throw the door open, earning
every spec of his attention. Those striking green eyes
immediately widen at the sight of me breaching the
threshold of his space. “Go in there,” Nora finally finishes,
nervously tucking her hair behind her ear as she skitters
around me to face her boss. “Mr. Kane, I’m so sorry. I tried
to stop her but—”
“Quite alright, Nora.” He waves her off. “This is my step-
daughter, Lyric.” The grated emphasis on step-daughter
irritates the absolute shit out of me, but I smile
nonetheless, holding my hand out to her.
“Nice to see you again, Nora. We met once before a few
years back. I was younger then.” I aim the last bit at
Grayson, widening my smile with purpose.
Stop playing the kid card, Daddy. It’s getting old.
“Oh, my God, yes, that’s right!” She flushes and shakes
my hand in a flurry of embarrassment. “I’m so sorry, Miss
Taylor. Can I get you anything to drink?”
“No, thank you, I won’t be long.”
Nora tips her dark head and takes that as her cue,
making herself scarce. I wait until the door clicks shut and
a good fifteen seconds tick by, ensuring she’s gone, before I
move even an inch.
 “What are you doing here, Lyric?” Grayson mutters,
watching my every move as I approach.
I don’t answer immediately, too caught up ogling his
commanding presence behind his desk, a wall of windows
at his back. He looks handsome as hell, more irresistible
than usual. White dress shirt, black tie, a black vest. His 5
o’clock shadow seems darker today, my fingers itching to
feel it beneath my touch.
Fuck. Me. Daddy.
“You know exactly why I’m here.” My palms meet the
cool glass of his workspace, all my weight shifting forward
to look him dead in the eye. “Did you really think that text
was going to deter me?”
That stupid-fucking-text, I should add.
“It should,” he grates. “‘Cause I was entirely serious.”
“Just like you were so serious about us never
happening? Please, Grayson, give me a break,” I carp,
rolling my eyes to the heavens.
A habit I’ve come to learn he hates with a raging
passion, and all the more reason for me to keep doing it.
His eyes flash in warning, jaw growing taut as he glares
at me. “Like I said, last night was a mist—”
“Don’t.” I hold a hand up, effectively cutting him short.
“Just don’t. We both know that’s absolute bullshit. You
wanted it as much as I did.”
“Momentary lapse of judgment. Alcohol often does that,”
he deadpans, and still I don’t buy it.
Not for a second.
I was there last night. I felt the all-consuming magnitude
of our connection. The way his body owned me, knew
exactly what to do with me, and not because he’s a man
with years of experience. No, he knew what to do with me
because he wants me as badly as I want him. He would’ve
moved heaven, hell, and everything else in between to
watch me come apart beneath his touch.
And I did—three glorious times.
 “Bullshit again, Daddy,” I sass.
There’s no missing the way he inhales a deep breath to
steady himself, eyes narrowing slightly. “I’ve asked you, on
more than one occasion, to stop calling me that.”
“Sure as fuck didn’t mind it last night, did you?” I retort
with a smirk, recalling the way his strokes increased almost
manically every time the name left my lips. “Balls deep in
my pussy, my moans in your ear, begging you to rail me
harde—”
“Enough,” he clips out. “We’re not doing this here. It’s
beyond inappropriate. You need to leave before someone
overhears and then we’re both fucked.”
“No.” I lean in closer, knowing damn well my tits are
jutting out at him thanks to the revealing neckline of the
mauve bodycon mini dress clinging to my figure. And for
the record, yes, I wore it with the sole intention of teasing
him.
He deserves it after that once again, stupid text.
Considering he looks like he’s ready to explode, I’d say
it’s working.
“Lyric,” he grits in warning.
“Yes, Daddy?” I hit him with the most angelic expression
I can manage, batting my lashes and all.
“Stop it,” he demands, his fingers digging into the
armrests of his chair.
“Or what?” I challenge.
He growls, I swear he does, low and deep within his
chest as he stares me down for several long moments.
There’s not a doubt in my mind he’s using every ounce of
self-restraint he knows to not shoot out of his chair, fly
around his desk, and choke me out.
I wish he would, though.
“You need to leave, Lyric. Seriously.”
I drag my head side to side. “I’m not going anywhere
until we talk about this, so we can either do it the easy way
and get through it now, or I can sit here for the rest of the
day and pester you about it until you break.”
Grayson throws himself back into his chair in defeat and
sighs profoundly, staring up at the white ceiling as if
beseeching the gods for a reprieve. “Why do you insist on
testing me at every turn? I tell you no, you do it anyway. I
ask you to leave, you refuse to do it. That mouth of yours is
going to get you into trouble.”
“Trouble is my middle name,” I taunt.
“Lyric—Brat of The Century—Taylor is more like it.” He
sighs again and scrubs a hand down his face. “I’m going to
ask you nicely one more time: Please leave. I’m working, do
not have time for your shenanigans in any way, shape, or
form. You want to rehash this later and have the exact
same conversation we did last night? Fine, but it has to be
later. I have a meeting in a few hours to cover what I
missed yesterday when I left to handle your ‘emergency’
and need to catch up before then. And as aforementioned,
you just waltzing in here guns blazing is highly
inappropriate.”
“Inappropriate would be me sitting on your desk and
spreading my legs so you can see I have no panties on. I’m
not doing that, now am I?”
“Jesus-fucking-Christ,” he hisses, face nestling in his
hands as he leans his elbows onto the desk. “Get out, Lyric.
Get the fuck out.”
Watching this man lose his shit is everything. I’m living
for his reaction, a satisfied grin stretching my lips. “Make
me, Daddy.”
“If I have to call security to escort you out of here, this
will not fare well for you later,” he warns.
“Threatening me with possible punishment isn’t a
threat. Sounds more like a good time if—”
I don’t think I manage a full blink before he’s blasting
out of his chair and around the desk. Another half blink and
he’s curling a hand around my arm, literally dragging me
out of his office without a word. You’d be right to say he’s
fuming. I think even Nora can feel the heat emanating off
his person as we whiz past her desk.
“I’ll be back in an hour,” he tells her, his tone seemingly
calm and collected. “Going to lunch.”
I just faintly make out her meek “Yes, sir” before the
elevator doors slide open and he shoves me inside,
smashing his thumb into the G.
I’m expecting the fuse to blow as soon as the doors
close, but nothing happens. He doesn’t even look at me, his
gaze trained firmly on the numbers decreasing with each
floor on the panel. Rather than push him any further, I keep
my comments to myself, reveling in the electrical current
zipping through me at the feel of him holding me still.
Might seem silly ‘cause I mean, it’s nothing more than his
hand curled around a very non-sexual spot. But his touch is
literally like a live wire, a thrilling shiver rushing down my
spine at all the possibilities of what could happen in the
next few minutes.
When the doors slide open to the parking garage,
Grayson whips me out and keeps on toward his car, my
heels clipping and clopping on the cement as I struggle to
keep up with him.
“You’re making this situation a whole lot harder than it
needs to be,” he leers, his patience long fucking gone.
“How so?”
“By not accepting it for it is and just letting it go. We had
a little too much to drink, made a grave mistake, and that’s
it. It never should have happened to begin with and it can
never happen again.”
“You keep saying that, but are you really gonna stand
there and tell me that if I pulled you back into that elevator
and got on my knees, you wouldn’t be hard for m—”
My back hits the side of a car not two seconds later,
thrusting my heart into my chest like a slingshot. I’m not
entirely sure if it’s his or not, I can’t tell with how
dangerously close he is, caging me against the hard
surface. The expression on his face, though? That I can see
clear as day. Feral, one-hundred percent feral.
Primal.
Like a hunter who just cornered his prey, driving up the
tempo of my pulse.
My breathing.
“I’d be hard as fuck,” he seethes, ghosting the tip of his
nose along my jaw. “And that’s a problem. That’s a huge
fucking problem. I can’t feel this way about you.”
“And what way is that?” I question, my voice just above a
whisper.
“Like I could devour you whole over and over again, and
it would never be enough.” A hiccup of silence passes
before he scoffs softly, almost self-deprecatingly, and
shakes his head, reaching into his pocket. “Get in the car,
Lyric.”
Beep, beep!
The car at my back unlocks, one of his arms curling
around my hips to tug on the handle and open the
passenger door for me. I slide over enough to fit through
the opening and plop my ass onto the smooth sable leather.
The door shuts, my heart now lodged in my throat after his
admission, and as he ambles around the back, I can’t help
but wonder why I’m in his car and what’s about to happen.
Because I highly doubt we’re going to lunch.
Slam!
My head snaps toward the sound, chest rising and
falling in anticipation of the unknown, as my blues lock
with those fiery greens now searing me from the driver’s
seat. Without breaking eye contact, he slips the
switchblade key into the ignition and drops his foot on the
brake pedal, quickly smashing his thumb into the silver
push start button on the console between us. The engine
rumbles to life, louder than normal as it reverberates off
the concrete walls of the garage. Then he cuts the air on,
scoots his seat back, and the next thing I know, he’s
beckoning me.
Patting his lap.
Do I…do I move? I’m fused to the seat beneath me,
unsure of what to do. Is he fucking with me?
“Now. Let’s go. I won’t ask you again,” he demands,
obviously noting that, for once, I’m hesitating.
He’s entirely serious, too, prompting me to kick off my
strappy Louis Vs and crawl my way into his lap. Not an
easy feat in this tiny ass car, I’ll tell you that, but I make it
work. I’m not even fully situated, though, before I’m caught
in his clutches; one hand fisted in my hair, the other death-
gripping both swells of my ass.
“Is this what you wanted? My full, undivided attention?”
His voice, my God. It’s deathly quiet. Deep. Sexy as hell.
I nod, bottom lip caught between my teeth at the delicious
sting of my scalp as he tightens his hold.
“You know that’s not gonna fly. Your words, Lyric—use
them.”
“Yes, it’s what I wanted,” I breathe, clawing at his tie.
“Well, you got it, so go on, talk.”
I open my mouth to speak, but suddenly, there’s no
words to be found. His scent, intoxicatingly all-man, slams
into my senses with such force my head spins. “I…”
“You what?” he hisses, bobbing my throat through a
harsh swallow.
“I’m… I’m not backing down on this.” I refuse. I’m sure
his text was meant to wound and warn me off, but it did the
exact opposite.
He’s running scared, and there’s no way in hell I’m, as
he said, “letting it go.”
Grayson rolls his eyes and expels a deep breath, yanking
my head back to expose my neck. “I gathered as much
given the fact you’re here.”
“Do you understand why?” I question, shivering at the
feel of his lips just barely ghosting my throat.
 “No, I honestly don’t, so why don’t you enlighten me.
You got what you wanted. I caved, played your body like
the finest violin. Isn’t once enough?”
“Not when I know you feel this.” I roll my hips into him,
goosebumps pebbling my skin at the appreciative heap of
air he sucks through his teeth. “The buzz, the electrical
current that lances from me to you and back again. You can
wave it off all you want, but our attraction is undeniable.”
“It’s also wrong,” he stresses. “And that’s undeniable,
too.”
Here we go again.
“We’ve gone over this already. How is it wrong? Because
I’m your wife’s daughter? She doesn’t give a flying fuck
about you, otherwise she wouldn’t be cheating.”
“Two wrongs—”
“Don’t make a right. Yeah, yeah, I know,” I scoff, earning
me the warning prick of his teeth sinking into the column of
my neck. “I might have joked about you getting even when
I sent the picture, but this has nothing to do with revenge.”
He bites me harder, drawing forth a soft, involuntary moan.
“It does, however, have everything to do with the fact that I
want you. I have for as long as I can remember.”
Grayson pulls away, then, interlocking our gazes anew,
his brows pinched as he regards me. “But why? Why me,
your mother’s husband, when there’s plenty of men your
age who—”
“Because I don’t care for guys my age and you’re my
type, in more ways than you can possibly understand. Let’s
put aside the fact you’re fine as hell, and don’t give me that
look ‘cause you know you are…” He gives me that dubious
look anyway. “You’re the walking definition of daddy. A
natural leader who’s always in control, loves a good
challenge, and knows when to be heavy-handed, yet also
knows how to be a caregiver, how to be kind and gentle.
Funny. That’s what I want, what I need.”
 “Were your other daddies not up to par?” he grates, and
I almost chuckle.
Almost.
Clearly, the thought of me calling another man Daddy
has been eating at him more than he’d probably ever
admit.
“I’ve never had a daddy,” I confess, fiddling with the end
of his tie. “No one ever fit the bill. Either they were abusive
pricks parading as Doms for the power, or they catfished
me and turned out to be more beta than Alpha in person. I
need someone who can keep me in line and put me in my
place, yet spoil the absolute fuck out of me and actually
give a fuck.”
I see it, for a split-second, the wave of relief that
overcomes him at the knowledge that I’ve not given just
anyone that card.
That honor.
But it’s gone before I can commit it to memory, a solemn
downward tilt of his lips left its wake.
“I can’t be your daddy, Lyric.” His voice comes much
softer this time, a stark contrast to his unrelenting hold on
my body. He even shakes me a little. “I can’t be your
anything.”
“You can, you’re just pussying out again.”
“I’m not pussying out.” Yeah, you guessed it. He’s not
remotely happy I’m hitting him with that for what probably
feels like the millionth time. “I made a commitment to your
mother.”
“A commitment she already threw in the trash. Why do
you keep backtracking to something that’s so utterly
broken? It’s stupid and pointless.”
“Because it’s still the truth. I’m married to her, not
dating,” he stresses. “There’s a piece of paper legally
binding us together, and whether she’s honoring that or
not, that still makes me unavailable.”
 “By your choosing,” I carp back. “She’s clearly very
much available for David. I’m not asking you to be in some
air-tight romantic relationship with me. I’m asking you to
attend to my needs the same way I want to take care of
yours.”
“That’s still a commitment,” he censures, an underlying
finality in his tone that has me rushing to abolish it.
“I won’t expect anything from you other than sex. We go
on about our lives as normal outside of the bedroom.”
But he shakes his head still, as if he’s firmly made up his
mind. “Can’t do it.”
We’ll see about that.
“Fucking pussy,” I grumble.
“Lyric…”
“Don’t Lyric me, Grayson. I’m just calling it for what it
is, or rather you for what you are. You know damn well you
needed what happened last night, and you loved every
goddamn second of it. Instead of taking the offer, you’re
choosing this high and almighty route as if you didn’t
already go against your broken vows. It’s dumb as fuck, so
dumb I can’t even respect you wanting to—”
He crushes me against him and smashes his lips against
mine so damn fast, our teeth clash. His tongue immediately
sweeps into my mouth, seeking every bit of control over the
tempo. I let him without hesitation, falling easily into his
pace as I internally rejoice the collapse of his self-control
and grind against him. All it takes is a few rolls of my hips
and he’s hard for me, pushing me down on him.
Got ‘em.
“I don’t know whether to fuck this sassy little mouth of
yours or spank you until your ass sings,” he rasps, breaking
away from my mouth to pepper kisses down my throat.
Wet kisses.
Scrapes of his teeth.
Licking.
Sucking.
 “Why not both?” I quip breathily, undoing his tie and
tossing it into the passenger seat beside us.
His mouth quivers against my skin as he yanks at the
material of my dress, pulling it up and over my ass. The
warmth of his palm skitters across one cheek, drawing my
bottom lip between my teeth in anticipation. He caresses it,
kneads it, gives it a teasing jiggle.
And then he goes for it, striking my ass just once.
The delightful twang of pain seeps through me,
dispersing through every limb that shoots an encouraging
moan free. That’s all the ammunition he needs, repeating
the action a second time, then a third. The grip on my hair
eventually falls away, exchanged for a tight necklace
around my throat as he alternates sides and angles,
soothing rubs and squeezes in between.
He knows exactly what he’s doing.
“Again, do it again,” I coax. “Harder.”
Grayson titters, the husky sound resounding from deep
within his throat. “A little bit of a masochist, are you?”
“Yes.” No shame in my game, either.
“You’re naughty as fuck is what you are,” he growls,
clamping his teeth at the neckline of my dress, tugging it
downward to free my breasts. “A goddamn tease,
demanding and set in your bratty, entitled ways. How I’m
letting a girl—”
“Woman,” I correct him. “I’m a fucking woman,
Grayson.”
Another spank, the hardest one yet, lands right between
the underside of both ass cheeks. My eyes squeeze shut in
bliss as the glorious sting spreads. “Do not interrupt me
when I’m talking. It’s rude.” At my silence, the hand curled
around my neck tightens. “Do you understand me?”
I nod, knowing damn well what’s about to follow, and as
predicted, another slap to my ass resounds within the
confined space. “Answer me, Lyric. Do”—spank—“You”—
spank—“Understand”—spank—“Me?”
 The words are right there, hanging on the tip of my
tongue, but I bob my head instead, earning me yet another
one of those animalistic growls I can’t get enough of and a
lightning quick hand.
Smack!
Smack!
Smack!
Smack!
Smack!
“How many times do I have to tell you to use your
words?”—spank—“Answer me.”—spank—“Do you
understand?”
“Yes!” I moan. “Yes, I understand!”
“Excellent.” He strikes me one last time and quickly
rubs it out, greedily kneading my flesh. My ass is on fire
and undoubtedly red, adorned with his handprint. “Now
take my cock out like a good girl, so I can fuck you with it
like the bad one you are.”
Doesn’t have to ask me twice.
His belt, then the button and the zipper. By the time I’m
slipping my hand beneath his briefs to pull it free, he’s
already lost his vest and undone the top few buttons of his
shirt. And the second my small hand wraps around his
thick, rigid length, pumping him from base to tip, he
groans, green eyes darkening with lust.
Need.
A need we both know only I can sate.
His heated gaze drops between us, and I think it’s the
first time he notices my lack of under garments. “You
weren’t kidding about the no panties thing,” he half
chuckles, half hisses appreciatively. “Were you banking on
getting fucked this afternoon?”
“Hell yes,” I admit shamelessly. I was more than banking
on it. “I wanted to be ready for you.”
“How ready are you?”
“After that spanking? Soaking wet.”
 “Fuck,” he grits. “Let me feel, baby. Slide my cock
between your lips.”
“I’ll do you one better,” I murmur, sliding onto his length
in one effortless motion until I’m fully seated, luring
another husky groan out of him and a relieved sigh out of
me.
His hands fall to my thighs, fingers denting into my skin
from the force of his grip. “Goddamn, you’re wet as fuck.”
“I told you.”
“Yes, you did.” He sucks one of my nipples into his
mouth, tongue flicking teasingly against it. “Now ride my
cock, Princess. Show me how badly you need it. And make
it quick…we’ve got less than thirty minutes until I need to
get back to work.”
Ride my cock.
Princess.
I’m done for—and so is he.
One way or another, this man will eventually be mine. I’ll
sell my soul if I have to.

OceanofPDF.com
 ♫ Your Guilty Pleasure - Henry Verus ♫

“OH, God, like that. Just like that,” Lyric moans in my ear as
I drive into her early Saturday morning.
She got up to use the bathroom and when she crawled
back into bed with me, the little minx slid right onto my
cock, ensuring I was wide awake. I let her have her fun,
bringing her to the edge with the help of my thumb petting
her clit, but right before she exploded, I rolled her over and
reclaimed full control.
We’ve been at it since, taking our time, my strokes
steady and unhurried. She feels too good like this, nestled
in my bed, panting beneath me, begging to come.
 And to think this will all be restricted soon.
“How the fuck am I supposed to keep my hands off you
when your mother gets back?” I rasp.
“With how often she’s out of the… Fuck, there, right
there.”
I can’t help but chuckle at her inability to formulate a
complete sentence right now. Honestly, I’m surprised I can
either. Her cunt is tighter than all hell, suffocating me,
sucking me in impossibly deeper the closer she treads
toward the depths of euphoria.
“With how often she’s what, baby?”
“She’s out of the house,” she explains, softly dragging
her nails up my back. “She’s never here, even when she is
in town. I think we’ll have more opportunities than you
think.”
She’s not wrong. Nicolette is rarely in the house. The
woman has never been a homebody. Even on her days off,
she’d rather be out galavanting around Rodeo Drive or
holed up in Calabasas with her friends than be here.
“That doesn’t mean we can be careless, though.” I fuse
our lips together, delving my tongue inside her mouth,
swallowing her soft moans as I pick up the pace just
slightly.
Lyric nods in understanding, yet a part of me wonders if
she really does understand. I took it easy on her yesterday,
went along with the motions despite knowing there’s still
so much we need to talk about. Wasn’t hard, really. Being
with her is a little slice of heaven I never thought I’d have
again, unless I grew a fucking pair and finally asked her
mother for that divorce.
“We’ll figure it out,” she vows, breaking away from my
mouth. “Later, though. Right now, I just want you to fuck
me into this mattress until I can’t see straight.”
Gladly.
Curling a hand around her jaw, I tilt her head aside,
peppering wet kisses along her face, down her neck. She
hums appreciatively, teeth embedded in her bottom lip as I
pump in and out of her. I’d die happy like this, I swear it,
but I can’t wait till we have our very necessary discussion
and I can tie her up. Lyric at my full disposal is going to be
absolutely glorious.
A thought that’s stopped dead in its tracks when my
phone starts vibrating on the nightstand. I fall completely
still, already knowing who it is without even looking at the
screen.
“Keep going,” Lyric coaxes, locking her legs around my
waist. “You can call them back later.”
“I can’t.” I’m reaching for the offending device, bringing
a finger to my lips in a warning for her to keep quiet as I
answer the call with a husky, “Hello?”
“Good morning, sleepy head,” Nicolette coos, her voice
lively and cheery as if she’s been up for hours.
I should pull out of her daughter right about now, I
really should, but the little brat won’t allow me to, knowing
damn well who’s on the other end of the line.
“Morning,” I reply.
“You sound like you’re still in bed.”
“I am.” Balls deep in your daughter’s pussy.
“Well, that’s not like you,” she chuckles. “It’s what? 9:30
over there?”
“Late night.” That’s all I give her, moving in and out of
Lyric at a snail’s pace.
“Hopefully having some fun. You damn well need it with
how much time and effort you pour into that website.” If
you guessed she sounds rather condescending about it,
you’d be right. I wouldn’t go as far as saying that she’s not
supportive of my endeavors, but she definitely doesn’t
understand it.
How could she when she’s, ultimately, vanilla. The
kinkiest she's ever gotten is allowing me to blindfold her
with one of my ties, and even then, that lasted a whole five
minutes.
 “Nope, nothing exciting. Just reviewing and approving
new updates to the site.” And fucking your daughter until
three in the morning.
Nicolette tsks in chiding, and I can just imagine her
shaking her blonde head. “You really need to get out more,
sweetheart. You’re far too young to be cooped up in that
house, working your life away.” Again, condescending.
She’s one to talk.
“I’m building a brand, Nicolette. If I don’t show up for it,
who will?” I counter.
Me, Lyric mouths, urging me closer with a beckoning
finger at my chin to softly peck my lips. I will.
My balls tighten in response. This girl makes me feel so
fucking seen, it’s not even funny.
“That’s what your employees are for, dear. You’re the
CEO. You shouldn’t be putting in this many hours.”
I could go on and on about why my presence and
dedication to this company is vital, but I’d rather not waste
my breath. “It’s too early for a lecture,” I carp, pushing
deep inside Lyric until I’m literally rutting against the
absolute deepest part of her.
The mewl that follows has me popping a hand over her
mouth and holding the phone far away enough for me to
hiss a, “Keep quiet or I’m stopping” in her ear.
“I’m not trying to lecture you, I’m just— Nic, they’re
ready for you.” David. I’d know that motherfucker’s voice
anywhere.
Every drop of blood in my veins ignites like a wildfire as
rage takes its flaming-red hold. When this first started, it
used to be jealousy that consumed me.
Then I stopped giving fuck about her, fell out of love.
Now there’s just rage. A burning rage because not only am
I being played for a fool, but she feels not a drop of
remorse about it either.
“I’ve gotta go, baby. I’ll call you later,” she croons. “I
love you.”
 No, you fucking don’t. “Love you, too.”
I end the call and toss my phone onto the nightstand,
refocusing my attention on the woman beneath me. Or try, I
should say because I’m suddenly conflicted all over again.
There’s a part of me that’s still clinging to guilt and even a
little fear, warning me that this could end badly. But the
more Lyric reminds me that the woman I just hung up with
doesn’t give a flying fuck about me, the smaller it becomes.
However, for now, it’s still there, taunting me, berating
me about what a shitty man I am, that although Lyric is
very much legal, I’m a predator, a sicko for succumbing to
my step-daughter’s seduction and indulging in her body.
Fuck, make it stop.
Nestling my face in the crook of her neck, I inhale her
deeply for comfort and pull out to the tip before sliding
right back in with a slam, intent on blocking the voices out.
Lyric moans softer than expected, threading her fingers
through the back of my hair. “You okay?” she questions
softly, not missing a single beat.
“Fine.” I nod, trying my damnedest to tamp down the
sense of alarm now coursing through me.
She doesn’t buy it, though, hugging me tighter against
her small frame. “You seem far from fine. Tell me what’s
wrong.”
I’m married to your mother, that’s what. I shouldn’t be
doing this with you, I know I shouldn’t. I should’ve been
stronger, resisted you, forced myself to hold onto that self-
control and kept my distance until you realized we were
never going to happen.
“The guilt is eating at me,” I admit, fisting the sheets
around her head as the mental peanut gallery continues its
assault. “And I hate it. I hate it because she feels none of it,
yet I seem to feel all of it.”
“‘Cause you’re a good man,” she reasons. “Despite the
fact she’s hurt you, you don’t want to hurt her. That’s
something you should be proud of.”
 “Hard to feel proud given our current position.”
Silence engulfs the room, one that clogs the air and
lingers for several long, suffocating minutes. I don’t move,
she doesn’t speak, until finally she claims my face in her
hands and forces me to look at her.
“Don’t run again,” she whispers, her thumbs caressing
the span of my cheeks. “I know that’s your first instinct, to
put space between us, but it’s a futile effort, Gray. You have
to see that by now. Yes, I forced your hand in some ways,
and I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m not. You would’ve caved
eventually.”
Would I, though?
Perhaps if she hadn’t been so adamant, if she’d given up
after I told her no the first time, all of this wouldn’t have
escalated. I’d have kept my head on straight, reminded
myself she was off-limits, told myself she’s too young for
me. I mean, she’s twenty-four years my junior. Twenty-four.
Not five or ten, or even fifteen. Twenty-fucking-four. I’m
okay with age-gaps, have always believed age is nothing
more than a number—but twenty-four years?
Then again, Lyric seems to be wise beyond her years
and she isn’t the type to just give up. When she wants
something, she goes after it. The most subtle of hints and
interactions probably would have contributed to me
crossing the line at one point or another.
“Stay with me,” her voice pulls me out of my
introspection. “I can feel you slipping away.”
When I glance down at her, she’s steadily honed in on
me, those usually clear, brilliant blues darker, her brows
furrowed. I expel a deep, regretful breath, dropping my
forehead to hers.
“This is wrong,” I croon. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”
“And yet we are and we have. We can’t go back in time
and change it.”
“But we can stop repeating it.”
“That won’t stop us from feeling what we feel, though.”
 No, it won’t because like she said, running from this is
stupidly futile. Now that I know what she feels like, what
she sounds like, what her sweet little pussy smells like after
I’ve brought her to ecstasy, I’d never be able to keep my
distance for long. I’d explode.
Damn pink bikini. This is all its fault.
And that fucking nude, too.

WE WENT our separate ways for the rest of the day. Lyric
acknowledged the fact I clearly needed some space and left
the house before noon. I hate saying I felt like I could
finally breathe for the first time since hanging up with her
mother, but it’s the truth.
What have I gotten myself into?
Let’s put aside the whole Nicolette thing and the fact
that, technically, I’m now no better than her, cheating on
her with her own daughter. Said daughter claimed we could
keep this casual, but can we really? Sex is different for
women. The release of endorphins aids in creating
attachments, feelings. I can’t afford for her to become
attached or develop any sort of non-sexual feelings for me.
A true relationship with her, one that far exceeds just sex,
would never be possible, even if I divorce her mother.
Could you imagine the tabloid headlines for that?
CEO of CloudNine dating his ex-wife’s daughter?!
From mother to daughter, Grayson Kane’s new arm
candy.
Dirty little secret or the product of fate?
I’m not a man easily embarrassed nor do I ever feed into
the bullshit thrown into the latest celebrity gossip
magazines—which is plenty when you’re married to a
movie star—but something of that nature could ruin me and
everything I’ve worked so goddamn hard to build. Not to
mention, Nicolette would probably try to pin my balls to a
silver platter, then force-feed them down my throat if she
found out I’ve put hands on her little, not-so-little girl. She
may not be the most attentive, present mother, but that
doesn’t mean she doesn’t love the life she created and
raised virtually by herself.
The sound of the garage door leading into the kitchen
opening and quickly closing meets my ears from the
confines of my office. I go stock-still in my seat, hoping and
praying she heads upstairs and lets me stew in my thoughts
for a while longer, but that would be too easy, right?
Appearing at the threshold, she raps her knuckles softly
against the door, donning a small smile as my uncertain
gaze meet her ocean blues.
“Hi,” her voice comes only a notch or two above a
whisper.
“Hey.”
“Can I come in?”
No, because then you’ll be closer, and when you’re
close, I lose all sense of self-restraint and rationality. I
motion toward the chairs in front of my desk and recline in
my seat.
She doesn’t take one.
I should’ve known she wouldn’t, bracing against the
leather beneath me as she ambles around my desk and
situates herself on top of it.
“So what’s the verdict?” she inquires.
I’m fully aware of what she’s referring to and still one of
my dark brows heaves. “Verdict about?”
“Are you gonna run and let your fears get the best of you
again or are you gonna tough it out and find a way to make
this work for both of us?” For once, there’s nothing
remotely sassy or challenging in her tone. She’s asking a
genuine question, probably hasn’t stopped thinking about it
since the moment I pulled out of her and told her I needed
some air.
I’m unsure of how to respond, though, mostly because I
haven’t figured it out. Do I think either one of us are strong
enough to call it quits right here, right now and just go on
about our lives like we haven’t spent the last three days
lost in one another? No, definitely not. But how long would
we be able to keep up with this charade before either she
develops feelings that could result in devastation, or her
mother finds out?
“I’m guessing you’re going with the former?” she muses
at my silence.
Can’t say I blame her for automatically jumping to that
conclusion, and yet my blood simmers at her assumption
anyway. “Did I say that?”
“You don’t need to. Your lack of a reply says it all.” It’s
there, dripping steadily in her tone. Disappointment. And it
kills me. I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again; I don’t want
to hurt her.
Sighing, I run a hand down my face and scoot closer,
parting her legs and wedging my way between them. My
arms fall over her thighs, hands grasping her hips as I drag
my stare upwards.
“Do you understand the resistance? Why I keep jumping
back and forth between succumbing and retreating?” I
question.
Lyric bobs her head. “Mom.”
“It’s not just your mother,” I stress. “Yes, that’s a big
part of it, but there’s so much more. Our age difference for
one is…”
“On the larger side, I know,” she agrees. “But I’ve told
you that’s what I like. Guys my age are idiots. They act
more like little boys than little boys do.”
No lies detected.
Men in their twenties still have the mentality of a pre-
pubescent teenager.
 “Twenty-four years, Lyric. Twenty-four years sit between
us,” I emphasize.
“I know how to do math, Grayson.” She rolls her eyes.
“Age is just a number, and we’re both consenting adults, so
does it really matter in the grand scheme of things?”
Yes…but also no.
“Alright, so let’s put the age factor aside for now. Don’t
you see how this could end badly?” I solicit. “You claim we
can keep this casual, strictly sex, but can you really handle
that?”
“I wouldn’t have suggested it if I didn’t think I could,”
she harps back. “I’m not an idiot.”
I have to take a second to breathe before responding
because, Jesus Christ, this girl and her mouth. “I never said
you were. I’m simply stating a fact.”
“It’s not a fact. It’s a presumption you’ve formulated in
your head about me, that I don’t know what I’m asking for
and am, apparently, not mature enough to handle a friends
with benefits relationship.”
I open my mouth to reply, but the words just sit there on
my tongue, refusing to make their way into existence.
Probably because, for the second or third time today, she’s
right. I’m projecting my worries and fears onto her, which
isn’t fair.
Expelling a deep breath, I drop my forehead against her
stomach, my grip on her hips tightening. “This is crazy,” I
murmur.
And crazy is only putting it lightly.
It’s fucking asinine, a disaster waiting to happen.
Her dainty little fingers thread through my hair and tug,
forcing my head up. “It’s only crazy because you’re
overthinking it, which on the one hand, I get it, I do.
There’s a lot to consider here, but at the same time, if we
play it right, this could work out better than you’re
allowing yourself to imagine.”
 Oh, I’ve imagined it, trust me, and that’s part of what
scares me—because what I see could be the key to keeping
what’s left of my sanity amidst my wife’s betrayal.
I don’t answer her, though, my stare bouncing back and
forth between her pretty eyes.
“Get in the bath with me?” she inquires softly.
“Lyric, that’s not a—”
Her index finger falls against my lips, silencing me in an
instant. “For relaxation and discussion purposes only. I
won’t touch you again unless you decide this is something
you really want to proceed with.”
Say no, say no, say no, I mentally chant to myself. Lyric.
Naked. In a bathtub. Her body dripping wet, everything I
want to see and touch hidden beneath the surface. That’s a
no, a big-fucking-no—but I can’t. I can’t find it in me to
deny her, obliging with a simple nod that lands us in my
oversized clawfoot bathtub not five minutes later.
Warm water.
Surrounded by bubbles.
Her back against my front.
We sit there in silence for quite some time. There’s
nothing remotely awkward or forced about it. Actually, it is
rather relaxing, soothing. So much that, at one point or
another, I lay my head back against the edge and close my
eyes. She does the same, only her head hits my chest. I
keep waiting to feel her touch, but as promised, it never
comes. She’s on her best behavior, which tells me she’s
really trying to make this work, to show me that, although
she can be a brat, she knows when to be serious, too.
“Can I ask you something?” the question suddenly
leaves me and breaks through the stillness of its own will.
Lyric hums, the water around us sloshing the tiniest bit
as I sit upright behind her.
“What’s your interpretation of a daddy?” I’ve been dying
to know. It means something different to every woman.
 “You,” she chuckles playfully, manipulating bubbles into
shapes on the surface. “But no, in all seriousness, to me, a
daddy is a man who cares for you; mentally, physically,
emotionally. A man who guides you, teaches you,
encourages, motivates, and supports you. He’s
experienced, not only in the bedroom, but in life, too. He’s
got his shit together, is more than reliable, so much that,
you feel safe with him, like you can talk to him about
anything. He knows when you need to be put in your place
and when you need to laugh, to be cared for. He’s your
rock.”
Well, damn.
Yes, I’m surprised by her answer because, honestly, I
didn’t think it meant this much to her or that she’d given it
this much thought. The girl has high standards and
expectations. A good thing, obviously, but it’s a lot to
uphold.
And if I’m being real, I’m out of practice. The last
submissive I had was years ago and I wasn’t her daddy. Her
Dom, yes, but that’s as far as our dynamic went. They’re
two completely different playing fields. I’ve only ever had
one sub call me Daddy, and our relationship didn’t last
long. In the end, we just weren’t as compatible as we
initially thought.
“I’m both pleased to hear you have such high
expectations and slightly intimidated by it,” I confess,
draping my arms over the sides of the tub to keep my damn
hands off her.
“Why intimidated?”
“Perhaps intimidated is the wrong word. Worried. It
worries me.”
“Why?” she hedges.
“Because there’s a deep level intimacy threaded in those
expectations—hell, in a daddy dynamic period, and that
goes way beyond just sex, Lyric,” I explain, earning me an
almost inaudible scoff and a shake of her head.
 “Friends can have intimate, meaningful relationships,
too, ya know? Not everything has to be romantic.”
Yes, I suppose she’s right—again.
I’m still not convinced, though. It’s one one of those
things that’s way easier said than done.
“Friends can also develop feelings for one another. I’m
not in a position to give you anything more than—”
“So if it evolves on my end and I start feeling a certain
type of way, we’ll end it. Problem solved.”
This girl.
“What did I say about interrupting me?” I quip, my tone
light and witty.
Lyric peers at me over her shoulder and flashes me a
saucy wink. “Just saving you time given I knew what you
were going to say.”
A chuckle reverberates deep in my chest. The sass on
this one… She needs someone to put her in her place,
alright.
And it can be you…if you stop overthinking every five
seconds, my subconscious reminds me. You have what it
takes. You know you do.
Possibly, but it’s the attachment thing tripping me up
still…
“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asks after a
beat.
“Like what?”
“With those pensive, pinched brows?”
I reach out for her, hesitating but a moment before
cupping her face in one of my hands, my thumb running
along her cheek. “Because I don’t want to hurt you, baby.”
She sighs, I swear she does, and melts into my touch.
“You’re not going to hurt me, Gray. I told you already… I
know what I’m asking for. What I’m getting into.”
“But you’re so young and the heart can be such a fragile
thing. The last thing I want or need is you developing an
attachment that can never be anything more.”
 We stare at one another for several minutes as the
weight of my statement hangs heavy in the air. I want to
ask what she’s thinking, feeling, anything to do away with
the silence engulfing the room, but she beats me to it.
“Can I touch you?” she whispers, and while she’d
promised not to, the fact she’s asking and not just taking
like she has the last few nights doesn’t sit right with me. I
don’t like it, my stomach wringing sourly.
Releasing my hold on her, I recline against the tub and
lift my hands in surrender. “Take what you want, Princess.”
She’s pivoting and crawling into my lap faster than I can
blink, water escaping over the rim and sloshing onto the
floor from the sudden movement. Her wet hands rake
through my hair, holding me still as she gently ghosts our
lips together. “I want you, Grayson, in any way you’re
willing. Give me the chance to prove to you we can make
this work.”
Damn it.
I can’t think when she’s this close, can’t fucking
breathe. My heart’s beating a hundred times too fast, and
my cock’s one rub of her cunt away from going rock hard
beneath her.
“We could be so good together,” she continues, grinding
against me with purpose. “You’ve had a small taste already;
you know we can.”
I nod ‘cause it’s true. The way she moves with me when
I’m inside her, the way her body feels against me, how
seamlessly she fits me. The fucking sounds she makes for
me. And if you want to throw in what I learned from her
CloudNine profile—what she likes, kinks, limits—it’s all
there in writing, in black and white.
We’re undeniably compatible.
In one, languid motion, she sinks onto my cock,
wrenching a guttural, carnal groan free as I death-grip the
tub’s edge with both hands.
 “Say yes, Gray. Be my daddy,” she coaxes against my
mouth, that wicked little tongue lapsing across the seam.
“We can do this. No one will ever know, I promise you.”
I want you, Grayson.
I know what I’m asking for.
Know what I’m getting into.
“Fuck it,” I growl those last famous words and succumb
to my fate, latching onto her waist and thrusting upward
until I bottom out. This could prove to be the worst decision
I’ll ever make, or the best…“Yes.”

OceanofPDF.com
 ♫ Freak - Doja Cat ♫

Daddy’s Rules:
1. Daily check-in. Text, video and/or phone call. How are you
feeling? Are you having a good day? Bad? Is there anything
important you want to share with Daddy? Accomplishments?
Failures?
2. Follow directions. What Daddy says goes. *Negotiations
are possible but not promised.
3. No masturbating; Daddy wants all of your pleasure. If you
must though, a video is expected from start to finish.
Unedited. No filters.
4. HYDRATE and eat proper meals, this includes snacks.
Starvation, fasting, and fad diets are a big NO. A healthy
princess is a happy princess, period, point blank. Also makes
for a happy daddy.
5. Self-care is top tier. Whether it’s a manicure, pedicure,
facial, massage, getting your hair done, etc, Daddy expects
provided self-care allowance to be used AT LEAST once per
week for some form of self-care.

I’VE RE-READ the iPhone note Grayson shared with me at

least ten times, my smile growing wider each round. Thank
fuck Tiffanie, my hairstylist, has my highlights processing
and is busy attending to other clients on the other side of
the salon, otherwise she’d probably be asking why the fuck
I’m cheesing like a loon so early on a Monday morning. I’m
usually down to spill the latest tea with her, but I can’t
share this. I promised Gray it’d be our little secret, and I
intend to keep that promise.
Excluding Carlie, of course. Grayson wouldn’t be mine if
it wasn’t for her pushing me to send that damn nude. I’ll
just have to swear her to secrecy.
My smile widens at the thought. He’s mine. My “friend”
with the added benefits. My Dom. My fucking daddy. And
he’s expecting me to follow rules. Rules I practically asked
for when I said I needed someone who could keep me in
line. I won’t lie, though, when he initially mentioned them
during one of our conversations about expectations
yesterday, that innate brat mode within me clicked right on,
promising one hell of a rebellion if said rules were too
restrictive. As you can see, they’re far from it. I can work
with these, although my eye is rather twitchy as I review
number three.
Looking like an alien, neon pink foils laying all over my
head, I type out my reply.
Me: NO MASTURBATING?! That’s not fair! *whines*
Me: I do it every night before bed! Helps me sleep!

I’m not lying either. Every night. Religiously. Makes me

pass the fuck out and stay out. How am I supposed to—

Daddy: Please refer back to rule #2.

My eyes go for a spin because I should’ve known he’d

answer with that. And yes, I already changed his name in
my phone ‘cause why the fuck not? But it also protects his
identity. Should someone glance at my screen and catch
wind of our exchange, they’d never think it’s my step-dad.

Me: Rule #2 also states: “Negotiations are possible but not

promised.”
Daddy: Re-read it. POSSIBLE but not PROMISED. You
masturbate, Daddy wants the evidence EVERY. SINGLE.
TIME. End of story, no negotiation.
Me: That’s so tedious tho! What if I forget?
Daddy: Easy… DON’T forget.
Me: *eye roll* EVERY time…really?
Daddy: Yes, no exceptions.
Me: And what if I don’t follow directions?
Daddy: Do you really need to ask that question?
Me: Are you gonna punish me, Daddy? ;)
Daddy: Abso-fucking-lutely.
Me: You’re gonna regret that. 0:)

The second I hit send, I’m biting down on my lower lip

as mischief courses wildly through my veins. He’s not going
to like that answer and I already can’t wait to see just how
much it pushes his buttons. Based on his almost
instantaneous reply, I’m willing to bet quite a bit.
Daddy: Watch yourself, Princess.
Me: Or what?

I nearly cackle, slapping a hand over my mouth to muffle

the sounds of my amusement.

Daddy: It’s all fun and games until that pert little ass is
bright-fucking-red.
Me: Been there, done that.
Daddy: And there’s plenty more where that came from.
Don’t test me.

The included open hand emoji unleashes a swarm of

butterflies to wreak havoc through my stomach. I swear I
can feel it smacking across my ass, too, that familiar,
tantalizing warmth blooming beneath my skin. I’m instantly
transported back to Thursday afternoon, locked in the
confines of his car…
“You’re naughty as fuck is what you are,” he growls,
clamping his teeth at the neckline of my dress, tugging it
downward to free my breasts. “A goddamn tease,
demanding and set in your bratty, entitled ways. How I’m
letting a girl—”
“Woman,” I correct him. “I’m a fucking woman,
Grayson.”
Another spank, the hardest one yet, lands right between
the underside of both ass cheeks. My eyes squeeze shut in
bliss as the glorious sting spreads.“Do not interrupt me
when I’m talking. It’s rude.” At my silence, the hand curled
around my neck tightens. “Do you understand me?”
I nod, knowing damn well what’s about to follow, and as
predicted, another slap to my ass resounds within the
confined space. “Answer me, Lyric. Do”—spank—“You”—
spank—“Understand”—spank—“Me?”
 The words are right there, hanging on the tip of my
tongue, but I bob my head instead, earning me yet another
one of those animalistic growls I can’t get enough of and a
lightning quick hand.
Smack!
Smack!
Smack!
Smack!
Smack!
“How many times do I have to tell you to use your
words?”—spank—“Answer me.”—spank—“Do you
understand?”
“Yes!” I moan. “Yes, I understand!”
“Excellent.” He strikes me one last time and quickly
rubs it out, greedily kneading my flesh. My ass is on fire
and undoubtedly red, adorned with his handprint. “Now
take my cock out like a good girl, so I can fuck with it you
like the bad one you are.”
“Girlll, who the hell has you blushing like that?” Tiff’s
voice drops me back into the here and now, snapping my
gaze up to meet her awaiting browns.
“No one,” I blurt, covertly locking my phone screen and
slipping it between my legs. “Just thinking.”
“About?” she presses, checking the foils in my hair.
“You’re brighter than a tomato.”
So was my ass.
“I’m talking to this new guy.” Hey, it’s not a complete lie,
right? “Let’s just say he has one hell of a dirty mouth on
him.”
Tiff snickers, though she hums in understanding. “Gotta
love the dirty talkers. They keep things interesting.”
Yes, they do. “Agreed.”
“Alright, all of these look good, so I’m gonna take the
rest out and then we’ll get you over to the shampoo bowl. I
think this is the lightest you’ve been yet, L.”
 My brow quirks. “How light are we talking?” I ask,
observing her as she removes the foils through the mirror.
“Platinum card, for sure.”
Good, that’s what I was going for. Keeps me looking
different from my mother. She prefers her blonde on her
warmer side, closer to our natural dirty blonde color. “Fuck
yes, let’s do this. I can’t wait to see it styled.”

AFTER FINISHING up at the salon, I meet up with Carlie for

lunch. I’d planned to tell her about Grayson, but she
doesn’t seem remotely in the mood to hear about my new
arrangement. Evidently, she met some guy in Colorado over
the weekend, they hit it off, and now she’s wallowing about
never seeing him again. They exchanged numbers and all
of that, but it doesn’t make much of a difference to her, and
I can’t say I blame her. Long distance relationships aren’t
exactly ideal, much less for the faint of heart.
“He was so fucking fine, L, and so damn sweet,” she
whines, forking her salad around the plate. “Blond hair,
blue eyes. The guy next door vibes except sexier.”
She looks miserable, honestly. I feel terrible, but also a
bit taken back. I’ve never seen her like this before. Carlie
usually doesn’t give three fucks and she’s more on the…
aggressive side.
“I’m guessing you guys hooked up if you’re this down
about it.”
Carlie nods and drops her fork carelessly. It clatters onto
the plate, earning us a few looks from the tables nearby.
“Best lay I’ve ever had, dude. Big dick, amazing kisser.
God, the first time he kissed me on the ski lift, I thought I
could come from that alone. His tongue is…magic.”
 Sounds like someone I know.
“There’s no way you can see him again?” I press,
popping a cherry tomato into my mouth.
She shrugs. “I’m sure I could take a weekend trip by
myself. Colorado’s beautiful and I really did love it there.
But I’m not trying to do some long-distance thing in the
long run. I want someone local who I can see regularly,
fuck regularly. Not someone who I’m gonna have to count
down the days before I can see again and worry about what
he’s doing all the days I’m not with him.”
Again, can’t blame her for thinking that way. Even the
strongest of relationships are put to the test when there’s
hundreds upon hundreds of miles between them.
“Once a month vacations could be fun, though,” I offer.
“Or you guys could alternate. One month you go there, the
next he comes here.”
“Or we could just move there and then I’ll see him all
the time,” she quips, gray eyes gauging my reaction as she
says this. “Would you be down for a change of scenery?
New town, new guys, way less traffic.”
Hell no.
Brow quirked, I press my lips together. How do I say this
nicely without making her sound like a total idiot? “You
wanna move over a thousand miles to be with a guy you
just met?”
My best friend blushes and scrubs a hand down her
pretty face. “Yes?” She doesn’t sound too confident about
that. “I don’t know, maybe? I really like him.”
“And I get that, but moving is a big deal and you barely
know him. Get to know him before you do something rash.”
Notice how I exclude myself from that equation. I’d miss
the fuck out of Carlie if she ever actually did move, but
there’s no way in hell I’m going with her.
Especially now that I’ve got the man I’ve been lusting
after for years.
 “I guess you’re right,” she sighs, signaling to the
waitress who’s currently a few tables over.
I use the silent moment to my advantage and pluck my
phone from my purse to text said man, but when I click the
screen to life, there’s already one on the display waiting for
me.

Daddy: We need to further discuss interests and limits. I’m

itching to tie you up and have my way with you.

My insides flutter chaotically. He’s gotta know I’m game

for that if he really did sniff around my CloudNine profile.
Then again, Grayson is quite thorough, more than likely
wanting to delve deep into my kinks, my curiosities, and my
absolute hell nos. Flicking my gaze across the table, I find
Carlie still mindlessly forking her food around, giving me
about twenty seconds to type out a reply and return my
attention to her before she notices.

Me: Tonight after dinner? I’m always down to be your rope

bunny.

Rope, cuffs, his tie, a belt—whatever he wants. I’d

seriously let that man do whatever he wants to me. My
pussy throbs just thinking about it. I’m about to shove my
phone back into my purse when it vibrates in my hand
again.

Daddy: I want *you* for dinner.

This man.

Me: Then I want you for dessert.

OceanofPDF.com
 ♫ Keep It Down - Migrant Motel ♫

I SWEAR on everything holy I’ve been hard all day,

fantasizing about all the ways I’m going to take this girl
and all the very unholy things I’m going to do to her when I
get home. Even through simple text messages, she knows
what buttons to push. I can read the sass in her tone, how
that inner-brat enjoys testing me.
I love it, I won’t lie.
Gives me something to look forward to that isn’t limited
to my job. That undying sense of guilt still lingers,
threatening to inundate me should I allow it, but I’m
realizing that it’ll always be there—so long as I’m married
to Nicolette anyway. I’ve gotta push past it—or maybe
repress it—if I actually want to enjoy this arrangement with
Lyric.
“It’s so light, though, sweetheart. Too light,” her voice
clamors the moment I step into the house from the garage
door, halting me in my tracks.
No.
“That’s what I wanted, mom,” Lyric drones.
No. No, no, no. Why? Why the fuck is she back early? It’s
been what, three weeks since she left? She was supposed
to be gone an entire month.
Ambling into the kitchen, I find both women in my life
sitting at the island. Nicolette’s running her fingers
through her daughter’s hair, examining the strands, while
Lyric rests her chin in her hand, staring out toward the
backyard. Anyone could see she’s not thrilled to see her
mother and, frankly, neither am I.
We were supposed to have another week to ourselves.
The closer I approach, the louder the sound of my steps
grow, prompting my wife to glance over her shoulder. A
beaming smile stretches her lips and she quickly rushes out
of her seat, bounding toward me as if she were so happy to
see me. I don’t for a second buy it because let’s not forget
what the woman does for a living. It’s all an act, a way to
keep me from growing suspicious of what she does behind
the scenes.
Her arms lock around my neck and before I can so much
as steal a peek at the woman I want to see, she smashes
her mouth into mine. I’m left with no choice but to slide my
palms around her waist and kiss her back. Last thing I need
is to raise her suspicions of the game I’ve now joined her in
playing before I even really get to play.
It’s then I glance over at Lyric who’s clearly unhappy
with the scene playing out before her, turning her head
away when our gazes intertwine. Anger, jealousy, even
sadness; I see it all painted on her face, and despite the
fact I told her I couldn’t give her anything more than just
sex, it fucking wrecks me.
Nicolette eases back then and peppers small kisses all
over my face. “It’s so good to see you. I missed you so
much, honey.”
Sure you did.
“We missed you too.” I offer her a small smile. “And
you’re back early.”
She bobs her head and makes this disgusted face, mock
shivering and all. “The director got sick, then the producer
and one of the make-up artists. They dismissed us before it
spread any further and said we’d revisit filming times for
the few remaining scenes.”
“So you have to go back?” Please say yes.
“It’s possible, but they were mostly indoor scenarios
that can easily be recreated somewhere local or even on-
set, so maybe not.” She pecks my lips again and pats my
chest. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. You’ll be the first to know
if I do. For now, I’m going to shower and get this travel
stink off me, then we can order dinner.”
I nod wordlessly and watch as she swoops back over to
Lyric, setting a kiss to the top of her head before taking off
for the front of the house. At the sound of her footsteps
ascending the stairs, I make my way closer to Lyric, who
still won’t spare me a glance. I beseech her to do so in
complete silence, hoping my presence looming over her will
gift me the sight of those captivating blues, but she doesn’t
budge, stare firmly trained ahead.
The second the echo of the bedroom door clicking shut
rents the air, I tangle my fingers in her hair and tug, forcing
our eyes to connect. “Don’t be mad, baby. It’s not my fault.”
“I know,” she concedes with a sigh, softening beneath
my touch. “I’m just…bummed. I thought we’d have another
week together and now that’s ruined.”
Releasing my grip on her freshly styled tresses, I drop it
to the back of her neck and pull her closer, pressing my lips
gently against hers. “We’ll find time,” I promise her. “Like
you said, it’s a cold day in hell when she’s in the house for
more than a few hours.”
Lyric nods, urging me closer with a yank of my tie, that
wicked little tongue teasing the seam of my mouth.
I open for her without hesitation, relishing her taste as
she deepens my kiss. “You look beautiful, by the way”—kiss
—“I like what you did with your hair.”
“Really?” she sounds surprised. “Mom said it was too
light.”
“I heard.” I nearly roll my eyes as I say this. “Ignore her.
It looks great on you.”
Her smile is utterly palpable. “Thank you. Would you
have noticed if you hadn’t overheard?”
“Absolutely. It’s significantly lighter.”
“A man who takes notice of the little things, huh?
Noted.”
“I’d notice anything you do, Princess. Anything and
everything.” And that’s the damn truth.
Lyric hums appreciatively, urging me closer still as her
arms wind around my neck. “God, I want you so bad,” she
breathes. “I thought about you all day, about us, what we’d
do once you got ho—”
I’m yanking her out of her seat and toward my office
before she can finish. Probably not the greatest idea and
definitely a huge risk, but I need at least five seconds with
her alone if we’re going to be forced to spend the rest of
the evening with her mother. We’ve just barely breached
the threshold when I scoop her up and claim her mouth all
over again, blindly locking the door behind us and erasing
the necessary space to my desk with just a few steps.
“Think you can be quiet?” I question, depositing her on
the cool surface.
My little brat nods eagerly, plump bottom lip caught
between her teeth as she watches me make quick work of
undoing my pants and whipping my cock free. She spreads
her legs wider for me, blush pink flower-print dress rising
higher up her thighs, and pulls the white lace keeping her
sheathed aside, revealing that gorgeous cunt.
Smooth, bare, it juts out at me, begging me to put my
mouth on it. “I’m dying to taste you,” I admit, all but
salivating as I take her in. “But if I do now, I fear not being
strong enough to stop, and then she’ll undoubtedly catch
us.”
There’s no verbal reply to follow, just two of her
manicured fingers dragging through her lips, then
sweeping over her clit a few rounds before dipping inside. I
inhale a sharp breath, watching in heated fascination as
she fucks herself with such familiarity. Not that I’d doubted
our exchange earlier in the day, but seeing her in action
brings it all back full circle, and now I’m hoping to have
videos land in our thread more often than not. If this is
what I’d get to see every time, I’ll freely and gladly give up
the control of owning every single orgasm. She’s a vision of
pure lust and temptation if I’ve ever seen one. Propped up
on an elbow, head dropped back, the softest moans
tumbling off her lips.
I’m painfully hard, stroking myself to release the
pressure quickly taking hold.
“Come here, Daddy,” she whispers, righting herself to
look me in the eye.
I’m on her before either of us can blink, draping myself
over her tight little body. I was expecting a kiss or her hand
grabbing hold of me, guiding me inside her…
No.
Those fingers buried in her cunt find their way into my
mouth, her sweet, slightly musky taste blasting over my
taste buds. I groan carnally, likely too loud, and shut my
eyes in bliss, releasing myself to take hold of her wrist and
keep her fingers right where they are. Like a man starved, I
lap at those dainty digits until there’s nothing left but her
soft skin, and when our stares reconnect, I’m met with a
devilish smirk.
“There, you tasted me,” she quips, reaching between us
to align me at her entrance. “Now fuck me before she
comes back downstairs.”
I already knew I was screwed when it came to this girl.
I’ve known it and acknowledged it since the moment that
pink bikini tripped the wiring in my brain and flipped the
attraction switch, but I think it’s right about then, right in
this moment that I finally realize just how fucked I really
am.
If word gets out about us, she could be my biggest
downfall. My ultimate destruction, decimating not only my
reputation, but everything I slaved for years to build for
myself.
And yet, she’s quickly proving to be my salvation, the
needle stitching together all the pieces of my heart her
mother tore apart.
The thought has me pushing inside her, burying myself
so deep in her tight cunt, I don’t know where she starts and
I end. Bottomed out with nowhere else to go, I repeat the
motion, easing back to the tip and driving right back in
until I rut against her. “You’re perfection,” I grunt in her
ear, catching the lobe between my teeth. “Every inch of
you, everything you say, do…you’re perfect for me.”
A terrifying awareness given our arrangement, how I
may never be able to have her beyond this, but it is what it
is. I’ll take her any way I can have her.
How long will just sex be enough though, the little voice
in my head whispers. How long before you both fall so deep
there’s no way you’ll be able to—
Lyric mewls beneath me, smoothing her palms up my
chest and around my neck, drowning out all the things I
don’t want to and can’t think about right now. “Aren’t you
glad I was so adamant now?”
 “Yes.” Stamping kisses along her jawline, I thrust in and
out of her. “Yes, I am.”
“Then no more running, right?” she presses. “‘Cause I
can’t take it, Grayson. I can’t let myself think you want this
and that we’re good, only to lose you a few days later.”
“No more running,” I vow, “I’m all in, baby. You wanted
me, you got me.”
She said it first; it’s pointless and stupid. There’s no
denying or snuffing out the connection between us. The
circumstances might not be ideal, but why torture
ourselves? Life is short and tomorrow is never promised.
“Promise me,” she pants, locking her legs around me. “I
need to hear you say it. Please.”
My fingers seal around her throat then as I fuck her with
abandon, the desk trembling beneath us, and bore deep
into her eyes. “I promise you, Princess. Daddy’s not going
anywhere.”
“Fuck…” her eyelids flutter shut, mouth falling slack.
“Say it again.”
A knowing grin spreads my lips. “Daddy’s”—thrust—
“Not”—thrust—“Going”—thrust—“Any”—thrust—“Whe—”
“Oh God, I’m gonna come!” she moans. “I’m gonna
fucking come!”
Yes. “Give it to me,” I grit, bringing my thumb to her clit
as I ram into her. “Give it to me, baby. Cream all over
Daddy’s cock.”
A few more purposeful pumps and she detonates, her
cunt clamping greedily around my length. The moan that
blasts free from her throat has me slapping a hand over her
mouth to silence her as I draw out her release and chase
my own.
She’s gonna fucking milk me dry.
And she does, God, she does. The second I free those
beautiful tits and clasp one in a death-grip, I’m done,
spilling myself inside her with a suppressed growl until I
collapse on top of her in a sated heap.
 Too bad Nicolette ruins the high not twenty seconds
later, calling out for me as she descends the staircase once
more.
So glad she’s back…said no one ever.

OceanofPDF.com
 ♫ I Want You - Dasilva ♫

THIS HOUSE IS GORGEOUS. It’s big enough for me and Carlie

with two bedrooms and an office, tons of entertaining
space, a dreamy, all-white kitchen that includes one hell of
a pantry. There’s a pool, too, and a spacious garage. The
list goes on and on, meeting all of our requirements and
then some. You think I’d be excited, right?
I’m not, trailing along faithfully behind my best friend as
we view each space. I feel like shit because she, on the
other hand, is very much excited. We always talked about
this as kids, how we’d grow up and live together before we
went off and got married. And that was the plan…
 Until Grayson happened.
“I think this is the one, L,” Carlie beams, trailing her
fingertips along the marble counter of the island in the
kitchen. “It’s got everything we need, plenty of room for all
of our shit. We can even get a puppy!”
I hum in response with a nod in tow and pretend to
examine the interior of the fridge.
She’s not stupid, though, and my lack of enthusiasm is
more than prominent. I’m not trying to ruin the experience
for her. It’s just…not what I want anymore.
“What’s wrong? You don’t like it?” she hedges.
Sighing, I shut the luxury refrigerator and turn toward
the girl who’s had my back since we were five, meeting her
at the island. “It’s a beauty, Cece…”
At my sudden pause, she motions for me to continue.
“But…”
Please don’t hate me.
“But I don’t wanna move out anymore. Now right now
anyway.”
One of her perfectly threaded brows arches in question
as she regards me. “Why not? Is your mom still bitching
about it?”
I shake my head and pull her over to the stools situated
on the other side of the island. She follows my lead and
parks her ass on one of them, waiting intently for me to
come out with it.
“I want you to know that I didn’t tell you sooner because
you were down and out about Dean.” Better known as
Colorado dude who, by the way, she’s going to visit at the
end of the month. “As your best friend, I knew how much
the whole thing was weighing on you and I didn’t want it to
seem like I was rubbing it in yo—”
“Dude, just tell me!” She grabs both of my hands and
squeezes, clearly on pins and needles.
“One more thing and then I will,” I promise, needing to
get this out before the words come out of my mouth.
 Carlie nods expectantly.
“You’re sworn to secrecy. Like this has to go in the
vault.” God, does it ever.
Pulling an invisible zipper over her mouth, she quickly
crosses her heart before winding her pinky with mine,
prompting me to get on with it already.
“It’s Grayson.” That’s all I give her, interested to see
where her mind goes and if she’ll catch on without me even
needing to say it.
“What about him?” she presses. “Is he still playing cat
and mouse with you?”
Chuckling, I fish my phone free from the back pocket of
my jean shorts and bring the screen to life. I was going to
open up my text thread, you know, let her glaze over our
recent conversations herself, but there’s a text from him
sitting on my lock screen notifications.

Daddy: Take this quiz, the long one. I want results within
the next hour.

There’s a link attached, and to say my curiosity is piqued

would be understatement of the year. I stuff it down for the
time being, though, noting what time he sent it and when
my reply will be expected. Setting the iPhone onto the
counter, I push the device toward her, allowing her to read
what it says.
Carlie leans in and I swear I see the realization flash
across her face in seconds flat. Those gray eyes widened in
surprise, she cranks her head toward me and points at my
phone. “Is that him?”
I nod.
Her jaw pops open. “Are you guys…”
I nod again, a ghost of a smile tickling my lips.
“Bitch, whatttt?” she squeals. “Since when?”
 “Remember the photo shoot/lingerie fiasco when you
were out of town?”
Carlie bobs her head. “You were supposed to talk later
that night.”
“And we did. He said it couldn’t happen. But we were
also drinking, and an hour later, he was railing me into the
patio table.”
My best friend cackles, and I mean full-on, head thrown
back fit of laughter cackles. Amidst her amusement, I
quickly regale her with the events that followed, from that
initial there can’t and won’t be anymore text the morning
after to last week when he promised me he wasn’t going
anywhere. I fill her in on our arrangement, too, and how
hard it’s been to find time alone with my mom back in
town.
“So, basically, it worked. You successfully seduced your
step-dad, and now he’s your fucking daddy!” she whisper-
hisses, not at all fazed by the type of relationship I’ve
gotten myself into.
She’s on CloudNine, too, for entirely different reasons….
“I mean, yeah, but like I said—not the easiest feat. The
back and forth was both maddening and exhausting. For a
second there, I really thought he was going to firmly draw a
line and I wouldn’t be able to cross it again. Although, at
least I would’ve had free lunch for a month had that been
the case,” I quip, reminding her of our little bet.
Carlie smirks, brown eyes going for a quick spin. “Guess
you owe me lunch then, huh? But no, seriously, I told you
he’d cave at some point or another. The signs were all
there. I was a little unsure at first given he went radio
silent after seeing your titties, but the party changed my
mind. He looked like he was ready to rip Leland’s head off
his neck when he caught you on top of him.” We share a
laugh because it’s true. That damned vein in his neck was
ready to bulge out of his skin. “And for the record, you
could’ve told me about this last week. Yeah, I was feeling
shitty about Dean, but I’m always here to celebrate the
good shit with you.”
I love this girl with my life. Throwing myself at her, I hug
her with purpose, my lips spreading in a grin as she hugs
me back. “I know and I love you, but you weren’t in the
headspace for it and you needed me to just listen, not blab.
Plus, I’m not supposed to be telling anyone, so seriously—in
the vault it goes.”
“You know I got you.” She holds me at arm’s length
then, examining me with a keen eye. “Which means that
now it’s my turn to be your best friend and give you my two
cents because it’s my duty.”
My stomach wrings slightly at the almost motherly tone
of her voice, but I bob my head for her to continue.
“Are you sure you can handle something so casual yet so
deep with him?” She’s shushing me, setting a finger to my
lips before I can so much as open my mouth to reply. “I
know you said friends with benefits, but he’s not just your
friend, L. Your dynamic calls for so much more, a deeper
level of trust and understanding most friends with benefits
don’t need.”
“I got this,” I affirm, though I’m not so sure if I’m trying
to convince her...or me. “Like I told him, I know what I’m
asking for, what I’ve gotten myself into. If this is the only
way I can have him, then so be it.”
“But is ‘so be it’ going to be enough for you?” she
presses, reclaiming both of my hands.
I shrug nonchalantly, flashing her my best smile for good
measure. I don’t want her worrying. “It has to be. This is
the only way.”
She nods and gives my hands a squeeze, yet the subtle,
not-so-subtle thinning of her lips tells me she’s not
convinced. However, she knows when to push and not push,
and decides to leave it at that, turning her attention back to
the phone. “What’s this quiz he wants you to take?”
 “I don’t know.” Slipping free from her grip, I reclaim the
device and click on the text notification. Our thread
instantly opens up, allowing me to tap my thumb on the
attached link.
The website loads, fusing our stares together as we
exchange a look. I wouldn’t say mine is more surprised, but
my best friend chokes back a laugh, a wicked grin
spreading across her mauve-painted lips. “That’s the quiz I
told you about that one time.”
My eyes widen in realization. “The one that said you
were…”
“Yuppp.” She claps her hands excitedly and pulls me off
the stool. “C’mon, let’s go grab that lunch you owe me. You
can take it in the car. Better hurry, too. He said he expected
results in an hour and that was over twenty minutes ago.
The long version of the quiz is gonna take you at least
thirty minutes to get through.”
While my best friend thanks the realtor for his time and
mentions she’s very much interested in renting this place
out—I guess she’s still planning on moving out regardless—
I get to work, inputting all the standard information.
Gender, age, sexual orientation. Beneath that is the prompt
for the shorter or longer quiz. I select the long one as
requested and move onto the last setting: scope. There’s
three options: one that shows all questions, one that omits
questions aimed at submissives, masochists, etc, and one
that omits questions aimed at Dominants, sadists…
You get the picture.
I hit the all option, mostly because I’ve always
considered myself to be a switch. Not that I could ever be
all Domme 24/7, like someone I know, but the thought of
restraining Grayson and having my way with him at least
once makes my insides clench with excitement. My thumb
smashes against the Next button and the test begins.
First question right off the bat is: I like to be dominated,
especially in the bedroom.
 “Ha!” I cackle beside Carlie as we slide into her Benz,
and without question I select the bright green absolutely
agree option on the right hand side of the answer bar.
Her brow perks as she clicks her seat belt in place,
prompting me to tilt my screen so she can see. She reads it
quickly before cutting on the engine and pulling out of the
driveway. “Yeah, that’s definitely an absolutely agree for
you.”
Leaving me to it, she opens up the sunroof and blasts
the music, Jack Harlow’s “First Class” thrumming through
the speakers, and navigates the Calabasas streets to one of
our favorite little spots back near Beverly Hills. My
answers are all over the place, some being in the flaming
red absolutely disagree category while others are more
neutral or in the somewhat agree/somewhat disagree
categories. The further into it I get, the more I start to
notice a pattern. All the questions directed at subs are
automatic greens, unless they’re hardcore slave/pet related
or directed at age-play. Not yucking anyone’s yum—don’t
come for me—they’re just not my things. There’s a few
Dom-aimed questions that also get greens, though most are
either red or in the neutral yellow. By the time Carlie parks
up in front of The Ivy, I’m reading through my results and
not the least bit surprised by any of it.

Brat: 100%
Exhibitionist: 98%
Rope bunny: 94%
Submissive: 93%
Masochist: 87%
Experimentalist: 86%
Degradee: 82%
Voyeur: 74%
Switch: 71%
Primal (Prey): 62%
 Slave: 55%
Vanilla: 22%
Non-monogamist: 15%
Pet: 10%
Age-player: 0%

A grin creeps across my face as I screenshot said results

and send them over to Grayson.

Me: [Photo attachment]

Not a full minute passes before his reply hits our thread,
as if he’s been sitting there for the last hour patiently
waiting.

Daddy: Lol well would you look at that…

Me: ???
Daddy: [Photo attachment]

His results pop up and when compared beside mine

prove how like-minded and compatible we really are. Even
Carlie seems impressed as she goes through the list with
me, bumping her arm against mine in approval.

Dominant: 100%
Brat tamer: 98%
Daddy: 98%
Voyeur: 95%
Rigger: 94%
Experimentalist: 91%
Primal (Hunter): 86%
Sadist: 84%
Degrader: 83%
Exhibitionist: 72%
Master: 57%
 Owner: 54%
Vanilla: 20%
Non-monogamist: 16%
Switch: 13%
Ageplayer: 0%

Daddy: You know what this means right?

Me: No, what?

I’m nibbling at my bottom lip in anticipation and step

out of the Benz, looping my arm through my best friend’s
as we head inside the restaurant to be seated.

Daddy: You’re mine.

OceanofPDF.com
 ♫ All I Need - Lloyd ♫

ONE OF THE worst parts about not being on the same page
with your spouse is how easily you forget things said in
passing. Like, for instance, an out of town birthday
extravaganza. Nicolette’s long-time friend, Renee Powers,
moved across the country to New York with her husband
and two young children a little over a year ago. They
haven’t seen each other since, and it’s not until my wife
reminded me—at the last minute—that we’d be in New York
for the weekend to attend her best friend’s husband’s
surprise birthday party, that I remembered her telling me
about it at all.
 As you can probably imagine, I wasn’t thrilled. For a
solid few hours, I contemplated how I could possibly get
out of it. If she went on her own, that’d give me and Lyric a
few days to ourselves, something I know we’ve both been
craving since Nicolette came home early, limited to stolen
moments in the shadows and an excess of late-night text
messages. But it might pose questions because although
Nicolette hasn’t brought it up, her outward demeanor
perfectly intact as always, I know she’s still feeling a
certain type of way about the night I face-fucked her and
left her to tend to herself after getting off. I don’t need or
want her sniffing around. This thing with Lyric is
complicated enough as it is.
So I sucked it up, broke the news to her daughter—who
understood why I was going but was not remotely happy
about it—and we were on a plane the following afternoon.
That was yesterday.
Now, we’re at this lavish Great Gatsby themed party
that’s already in full swing. There’s a professional cigar
roller stationed in one of the corners, offering guests
freshly rolled stogies, a jeweler in another, renting out
headpieces and the finest in jewelry for the women from
the Jazz Age, and an old-school photo booth between them
that prints off those little strips of five. Dancing, chattering,
laughter, there’s a little bit of everything going on at once.
The man of the hour has already arrived, looking
genuinely surprised as all his friends and family belted out
a harmonious “Surprise” above the melodic sounds of the
Roaring 20’s filtering in through the speakers. My wife is
as happy as can be, glued to her best friend’s side as they
wander around the opulently decorated ballroom of blacks,
whites, golds, over-the-top feather centerpieces, and
twinkle lights hanging from every inch of the ceiling.
And me?
I’ve taken permanent residence at the bar, working on
my third bourbon for the evening. Every now and then
Nicolette will blow me a kiss from across the room or make
her way over for a chaste peck. You know, anything to keep
up the appearance that we’re still happily married. Like
right now, as she and Renee try their hand at The
Charleston, she flashes me a wink and gives me a little
shake of her ass. I won’t lie, she looks quite beautiful
tonight. Blonde hair styled in those quintessential 20’s
curls, blood-red lip, and a strapless silver dress dripping in
diamonds—sans the white fur shawl she arrived with—she’s
every bit the gorgeous, classy woman I fell in love with
once upon a time.
Sometimes I look at her and a part of me begs me to
confront her, to demand we work this out and find our way
back to one another. But then hate, now rooted so deeply in
my being, sweeps in and reminds me there’s no moving
past her betrayal. No amount of therapy could ever make
me trust this woman like I once did. I’d always be
wondering when, not if, she’ll stray again, worried to high-
fucking-heaven what she’s doing every minute of every
goddamn day, especially when she’s off filming on location.
And I refuse to live in a perpetually paranoid state for the
rest of my life.
Lifting my glass, I offer her a crooked smile and tip of
my head before downing what remains of my drink.
Bringing a palm to her lips, she blows me another kiss and
turns back to her friend, clutching the small train of her
dress out of the way.
“Another one, sir?” the bartender asks, noticing the now
empty tumbler in my hand.
“Please.” Setting the glass onto the polished wood, I
slide it his way just as my phone vibrates within the inner
breast pocket of my tuxedo jacket.
I fish it free without thinking, my mind hazy thanks to
the alcohol, only to realize with perfect clarity it’s Lyric…
and she’s FaceTiming me.
Fuck.
 I haven’t stopped thinking about her since we left, but I
can’t do this right now. It’s too loud, and even if it weren’t,
there’s too many eyes, too many ears. A singular hint I’m
talking to a woman that isn’t my wife, regardless of the fact
she’s my step-daughter, and the rumor mill will start
churning about.
Silencing the vibration, I stow the phone back where it
belongs and force myself not to wonder what she was ca—
The vibration starts up again, cutting off my train of
thought, but this time, I don’t silence it, thanking the
bartender as he returns with a fresh drink. I waste zero
time nursing the damn thing, downing half of it right then
and there in hopes the hefty gulp will slip me from nice
buzz territory into the beginnings of being too drunk to
care about anything.
That’ll take at least another twenty minutes and another
drink or two, though, and the little minx knows how to play
the game, remember? A third call comes through, the
vibration lancing through the sable material clinging to my
skin to my limbs, dispersing all the way to the tips of my
fingers.
Goddammit.
Throwing back the remainder of my drink, I slam the
glass onto the gleaming wood and signal the bartender
with a crook of two fingers. He pads right over, quirking a
brow as I lean closer. “If my wife comes looking for me…” I
point at Nicolette who’s still on the dance floor. “Serve her
another glass of champagne and let her know I’ll be right
back.”
“Yes, sir, of course,” he acquises.
And with one last look at her, not a drop of remorse to
be found, I slip out of the ballroom on quick feet through
the backdoors, greeted by the silence of the hotel’s
corridor. One of them anyway. A small group of women
stride past me, offering friendly, coy smiles, as I’m
whipping out my still vibrating phone from its confines and
finally accept the FaceTime. Takes a moment or two for it
to go through, but the sight of her instantly takes my
breath away upon connection.
“Hi, Daddy,” she greets meekly, curving my lips in a
lopsided smirk.
“Hey, Princess. Everything okay?”
Lyric nods and curls into the couch, cuddling her pink
furry blanket to her chest. “Fine. I’m just bored. I miss
you.”
Fuck me, man.
The look in her eyes right now… So angelic and
innocent, the devious, tempting brat tamed and nowhere to
be found.
“I miss you, too.” I drop my voice low enough only she
and I can hear, breathing past the small pang in my chest
as I lean up against the dark wood-paneled wall.
The ache lingers manages to linger, so much that I find
myself rubbing at it.
“You guys at the party?” she asks.
“We are. I stepped out to answer your calls. If you’re
okay, though, I should probably get back inside before your
mother realizes I’m gone. I’ll text you la—”
“Wait, no, don’t leave me yet.” She pouts, and all I can
think is, I don’t wanna leave you at all, baby. “Let me see
your outfit.”
“It’s just a tux,” I chuckle, extending my arm to show
her as much as I can.
“Fine as hell,” she purrs. “Fits you like a glove.”
Her pussy fits me like a glove, too, but I don’t say as
much, my chest puffing up slightly at her compliment.
“Thank you.”
“No, thank you.” Two seconds later a prompt appears on
the screen: Lyric took a FaceTime photo. “That’s going
straight to the spank bank.”
This girl.
 My chest rumbles in amusement all over again, while my
cock thumps against my thigh at the prospect of what that
means. “Don’t forget, no spank bank action unless you plan
on sending Daddy the evidence.”
“Or…” Her entire face lights up with mischief, or rather
darkens with mischief. Gone is the sweet angel who
innocently needed my attention just moments ago. In her
place now sits the princess brat who destroyed my self-
control and trapped me in her delectable clutches. And she
wants my attention, too—clearly for not so innocent
reasons. As always. Scooting to the end of the couch, she
shoves her blanket aside. “Daddy can watch me in action
right now.”
An enticing offer, yes, but I can’t. Now isn’t the time nor
the place. I rock my head side to side, willing the anxious
fucker in my pants to calm the hell down. “You know I
can’t, baby.”
“You sure?” Reclining slightly, she extends the phone in
the same way I did moments ago, and reaches for the hem
of her black tank top, lifting it up and over her tits.
They fall free, hanging heavy with need, those pretty
pink nipples taunting me with what I could’ve had if I’d
stayed back home with her. My mouth waters, pulse kicking
up in speed as I scan both ends of the hallway for possible
party goers who might’ve stepped out for a smoke and are
on their way back in. Thankfully, there aren’t any.
“Lyric,” I warn through my teeth, sucking in a breath as
she grasps one of her breasts and tweaks the rigid peak
between her fingers. “I can’t do this right now. Your
mother’s probably already wondering where I went.”
But as always, my warning does nothing, only
encouraging her to test my limits, to push my buttons until
I either snap in exasperation or bend in yearning. That
devilish smirk finds its way on her lips as she slips her hand
beneath the waistband of her baby pink shorts. “Ditch the
witch and come play with me, Daddy. You know you want
to.”
Oh, I do, I really fucking do, especially now that all that
bourbon is slapping me across the face, lust licking through
my veins like it was her mouth on my cock.
“Please,” she begs quietly, crumbling my resolve more
by the second. “Please watch me.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I don’t reply, wrenching open the ballroom door and
poking my head inside to survey the vast room for the
woman who should have my full attention. Takes a few
moments with all the damn bodies milling about, but I
finally spot her near the photo booth, wrapped up in what
looks like an engaging conversation with Renee and a few
other women, that fresh glass of champagne I asked the
bartender to serve her in her hand.
She’s been looking for me…
“Keep touching that pretty pussy, Princess,” I order
quietly, releasing the handle with a quickness and all but
flying down the hallway. “We’ve got ten minutes. Fifteen
tops.”
“Yesss.” Her grin is infectious, though it doesn’t last
long, pouty lips parting as she continues rubbing her clit
beneath her shorts.
Do not get hard, do not get hard, do not get fucking
hard, I mentally chant to myself—like a fucking teenager—
smashing my thumb into the call button at the elevator
banks. “Nice and slow, build it up,” I command, my gaze
flicking between the screen and taking inventory of the
Ritz’s lobby for anyone I may recognize. “I don’t want you
coming until I get upstairs.”
“I won’t, I promise. But hurry.”
“I’m trying. This damn elevator is taking a century and a
half.” The stairs are out of the question. There’s no way I
can make it up forty flights without dropping dead before
she finishes.
 “God, it feels good.” Her little mewls of pleasure
resound through the speakers, prompting me to quickly
drop the volume on my phone the lowest it can possibly go
to avoid anyone overhearing us. “I wish it was you,
though.”
I wish it was me, too. “Pretend it’s me, baby.”
“I am,” she breathes. “Those thick fingers filling me,
spreading me out, dragging my juices up to my clit…”
Anddd I’m hard, palming the fucker down as I internally
war with the damn elevator to just open alr—
Ding!
The steel doors open and out comes a small group of
people on their way out for the night, flocking past me
without a second glance. I fly inside the emptied cart like a
bat out of hell and smash my thumb into the forty on the
panel. Once the doors close, ensuring I’m alone, I deflate
like a balloon and return my full attention to what’s
happening on the other end of the phone…
“Shorts off, baby. Let me see you,” I rasp, itching to whip
my cock out and relieve the pressure she’s built up in
minutes flat.
Lyric obliges without protest, stopping long enough to
set her phone on the coffee table, rise from her place on
the couch, and shimmy the tiny garment down her legs,
leaving me with one hell of a prime view from the waist
down.
Smooth as always, but visibly wet.
“Fuckkk.” I’m gonna lose it, hating the fucking distance,
wanting nothing more than touch her, feel the warmth of
her skin in my hands. “Turn around. Give me a peek of that
ass.”
She does, spins on her toes, that bubbly little thing
bouncing as she sets her hands beneath each globe and
jiggles them in front of the camera.
Jesus Christ.
“Slap it,” I grit, my grip on the metal railing deadly.
 Again, she yields to my command, the delicious sound
echoing through the elevator.
I drag my eyes up to the panel long enough to note
we’re about half way there. When I return to the little minx,
she’s bent over the couch on her knees, every inch of her
exposed as she works two fingers between her legs from
the front and spreads her cunt.
Wide.
“My pussy needs you,” she moans, sliding her middle
finger inside that hot little hole. “So wet and warm, ready
for you to take me however you want.”
I should’ve stayed. I should’ve fucking stayed with her
and said to hell with Nicolette and her possible
questioning. “The things I’m gonna do to you when I get
home…”
“Tell me.” She’s still driving that finger in and out. “Tell
me all the dirty things, Daddy.”
Ding!
“I will…in twenty seconds when I get inside my room.”
Lyric hums as I race down the brightly lit corridor to the
door, fishing my wallet from the pocket of my slacks for the
keycard.
Into the slot it goes.
Green light.
The telltale beep.
I’m in, the door slipping from my grip as I rush into the
bathroom and throw the lock in place.
“On your back, Princess. I wanna see that gorgeous face
twist up with pleasure when we come,” I grunt, propping
my phone up against the mouthwash bottle and slipping out
of my jacket.
Belt.
Button.
Zipper.
My cock’s out, rock-fucking-hard and angry as all hell. I
stroke it with a firm hand, boring into the phone as Lyric
situates herself to my liking and rips her tank over her
head, leaving her completely bare for me.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” I tell her. “Such a good girl
for Daddy. I’m the luckiest bastard in the world.” And I
mean every goddamn word.
“You’re lucky? Have you seen yourself? A whole
masterpiece of a man,” she purrs, gliding her fingers
through her sex. “You look so hot right now. I swear I could
watch you do this all day.”
Same. “Rub that clit, baby. We’ve gotta hurry.”
“Then tell me all the dirty things you’re gonna do to me
when you get home. I’ll explode before you can finish.”
“My mouth on your pussy,” I start. “I hate that I haven’t
been able to taste you yet, at least not the way I want to.”
“And how’s that?”
“Bound to my bed so I can spread you out and do
extremely naughty things to your princess parts, make you
come—over and over again.”
“Oh, God…”
“I wanna feel that clit throbbing between my lips, your
cum coating my tongue…”
“Fuck.”
Fuck is right. Simply relaying this to her has me nearing
the edge myself, my strokes violent and unforgiving.
“And then what?” she pants, winding an arm beneath
her leg to slide two fingers inside her cunt. “After I come,
then what?”
“Flip you over, still bound, and slide my cock inside you
until I’m hitting the deepest part of you, rutting against you
repeatedly with every thrust.”
“I want that right now,” she whines, actually fucking
whines. “Get on a plane and come home to me.”
I wish. “You’d be waiting for hours.”
“I don’t care. The end result would be worth it.”
“What’s that?”
“Getting to see you… Me coming all over your cock.”
 “Shit,” I hiss, teeth bared as that vision blends with the
image before me, tightening my balls in warning. I’m gonna
come so hard, it’s not even funny…and I’m not even inside
of her. “It’s right there, Princess. I’m gonna blow. Tell me
you’re there, too.”
Lyric nods, eyes clamped shut as she unravels for me.
“So close.”
“Look at me, baby. Eyes on me,” I demand. Those
beautiful blues snap open, fusing with my ardent stare.
“There we go. Just like that. Now tell me what you need to
come for me.”
“Tell me what you like about me, what I do to you,” she
breathes, increasing the speed of her ministrations, those
wet, luscious sounds blasting through the speakers of my
phone.
Praise. She needs it, craves it, more than all those dirty,
sinful words of degradation she loves, too. “Just you,” I
groan, hoping she can hear the verity behind those two
little words. “All of you. You drive me absolutely wild, Lyric.
Every inch of you and that delectable body is perfection. I
can’t get enough of you, and if it were possible, I’d show
you off to the world with nothing but pride. Everyone would
know you’re mine, that you belong to m—”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m gonna come!” A guttural moan
and her body seizes, her release quite literally exploding
out of her.
My jaw pops open in complete and utter shock.
She’s fucking squirting for me…and I’m a goner, cursing
a litany of expletives as I give my cock three more pumps
and shatter right along with her, head bowed, gripping the
edge of the bathroom counter for dear life. Rope after rope
of hot cum shoots into my palm, coating my hand the same
way I wish I could coat her.
“I wish I could…” she pants, trembling through the
aftermath of her orgasm. “I wish I could screenshot you
right now.”
 “Why’s that?”
“‘Cause you look like a god when you come apart.”
I can’t help but chuckle at that, slowly floating back
down to reality. Our stares lock through the screen,
matching grins spreading on both our lips. Her chest
heaves as swiftly as mine as she plucks the phone off the
coffee table and lays back into the couch cushions,
propping an arm behind her head.
She’s never looked more beautiful; flawless skin dewy,
her cheeks heavily flushed and those blonde tresses an
absolute mess.
“You’re one to talk,” I counter in awe, “First you squirt
for me, and now…You look stunning right now, Princess.
Don’t move.” A quick wash of my hands and I’m capturing
the image for all time. “Got it.”
“Spank bank collection?” she quips, but I shake my
head.
“No, just the princess collection.”
Seems impossible, but her cheeks bloom more than they
already are and that grin spreads into a full-blown beaming
smile. “That was fun.”
“It was,” I agree, returning my appearance to its default
state.
“Now would be the perfect time to curl up on your chest
and watch a movie.”
“Yes, it would.” Sounds like fucking heaven, to be
honest.
Cuddling into the rosy blanket, she silently regards me
for several moments before pulling the sweet and innocent
card from the deck all over again. “Come home, Daddy.
Please.”
My heart rips in two…or at least that’s what it feels like.
“I can’t, baby. Not without your mother.”
“Tell her it’s an emergency. She won’t even care. Not
when she’s with Renee.”
 Fair point. But still… “We don’t need her asking
questions.”
“Fineee,” she sighs. “I’ll just cuddle my pillows then.
Text me later?”
I bob my head, swallowing deeply at the disappointment
in her tone. “If I get five minutes to myself, you know I
will.”
We exchange goodbyes and the call ends, leaving me
staring at the screen in longing as a million and one
thoughts sprint through my mind. Thoughts that have the
ability to overwhelm me if I allow them to.
I can’t do this right now.
It is what it is.
Pocketing the phone, I lean all my weight onto my hands
and drag my gaze up to the mirror, boring into my
reflection long and hard. What I see glowering back at me
tells me everything I’ve already known but need to come to
terms with. And though I exit the room not long after that,
striding down the hallway to catch the elevator back down
to the party, I’m not going back to spend the rest of the
night with my wife.
No, I return long enough to spout off another lie, a tale
of how CloudNine was hacked and my team is in an uproar,
struggling to secure it. I tell her I need to leave and
reassure her that it’s okay for her to stay, that we’ll see
each other tomorrow evening.
And then I grab my shit and hightail it to the airport,
hopping on the next available red-eye back to L.A—because
although this blurs the lines of just sex more than they
already are, I’m starting to realize I don’t care.
Daddy will be home soon, baby.

OceanofPDF.com
 ♫ La Vie En Rose - Emily Watts ♫

Me: You were right. I can’t do this…

THAT’S the text I sent Carlie a few minutes ago. My heart

feels heavy, like there’s an anchor in my chest weighing me
down. The fact he even answered my FaceTime, let alone
went along with my spur of the moment play time spoke
volumes. This is more than—
My phone vibrates with Carlie’s reply.

Cece: Do what?
Me: This thing with Grayson.
 Two seconds later, my phone vibrates again, but this
time with an incoming call. I set it on speaker and lay the
phone on the pillow beside me.
“What do you mean this thing with Grayson? What
happened?” my best friend inquires, sounding as concerned
as you’re imagining.
“I’m falling for him, Cece,” I confess. “Hard.”
She sighs, deeply I should add, and judging by the
sounds that follow, she’s venturing somewhere more
private before she hits me with, “I hate to say this bestie
and I promise I’m not trying to rub it in your face, but…I
called it.”
“I know.” I nod, mindlessly staring at the TV. “I thought I
could do it, that strictly sex would be better than nothing,
but I want him for me. I have wanted him for me. I was
stupid and naive to think I could handle anything else.”
“You’re not stupid. A little naive sometimes, yeah, but
aren’t we all? What triggered the realization?” she
questions, breaking the dam wide open.
I regale her with the events of what took place a little
over an hour ago, including every tiny detail short of his
dick size and the sounds he makes when he comes. By the
time I’m trailing around to the end, my best friend is
already tsking between her teeth.
One of my brows hoists curiously. “What?”
“You’ve got it, you’ve got it bad…” she sings, earning
her a faint chuckle as she continues on with the rest of that
lyric. “But so does he, at least that’s what it sounds like.”
My heart thuds at the possibility, stomach flipping about
wildly with hope. “You think so?”
Carlie hums and I can all but see her nodding. “He
stepped out to answer your calls, told you he misses you,
snuck away to play along with you. He’s feeling it, too, I’m
telling you.”
“Don’t tell me this shit, dude. I don’t wanna get my
hopes up.” I can’t. If he’s firmly set on the “this has to be
just sex” line, I’ll end up crushed, battered and broken by
my own desires and musings of the heart.
“I’m just saying,” she chuckles. “He’s showing all the
signs, L. I mean, think about it… If it were just sex, he
wouldn’t have answered, wouldn’t have said he missed you,
wouldn’t have snuck away while he’s out of town with your
mom to spend time with you, sexual or not.”
She’s got a point. “So what do I do?” I probe.
“Nothing. Just hold on tight and keep doing what you’ve
been doing. If it’s meant to be, it’ll fall into place on its
own.”
“What if it’s not?” I hedge, gulping as a pit forms deep
in my core.
“Then it’s not and you cut it loose. The sex might be
great, but your heart is a fragile thing and you need to
protect it at all costs. I’m confident, though…”
“About?”
“You’re falling, and he’s gonna be right there to catch
you.”

CARLIE CAME over for a little while after our call to keep me
company. We killed a bottle of pink moscato on the couch,
talked, laughed; all things I desperately needed to distract
myself from the complicated situation at hand. She left just
before midnight, wanting to get some phone time in with
Dean before she needed to crash, and I promptly took my
buzzed ass to bed. I passed out almost as soon as my head
hit the pillow, and I was sleeping soundly…until a dull throb
between my legs cracks my eyelids open to the darkness of
my bedroom. It’s not until I try reaching out for my phone
to check the time, though, that I become consciously aware
of what’s happening.
I can’t move.
My arms are extended over my head, wrists bound to
the headboard with what feels like a belt. What the fuck?
My insides instantly sour, heart shooting up to my throat as
fear spikes through every inch of my body. “What in the
actual fuck?” I bark, struggling against my restraints in a
panic to pull myself free.
And that’s when the sheets are pulled from my body,
revealing the man who has the power to shatter my whole
world into little pieces nestled between my legs. Thank
fucking God. My nerves calm as quickly as they peaked, but
that doesn’t stop me from blinking a few times ‘cause this
can’t be real.
“Grayson?” I squeak. Am I imagining this shit?
Dreaming maybe?
“Hey, Princess,” he coos, his voice quiet and
tantalizingly husky.
“What are you—” The question dies in my throat as his
deft tongue slides between the lips of my sex.
I’m dreaming. I have to be. This isn’t real. I just spoke to
him hours ago. He’s in New York with my mom.
“Oh, it’s real, alright,” he replies because clearly my
thoughts weren’t so internal after all, his soft bout of
laughter rumbling against my skin. “You wanted Daddy to
come home. Here I am.”
“H-how? When?”
“We hung up and I hated it, hated the way I felt, hated
knowing you were alone wishing I was here. So I went back
downstairs, told your mother CloudNine had been hacked,
and left. Got on the next available red-eye back to LA.” He
licks me again and I shudder, my nails digging into my
palms as my heart—that hopeful little thing—skips another
beat.
 “You left…for me?” I question, stressing the last bit in
disbelief.
Grayson hums in response, gently lapping at my clit,
those large, capable hands squeezing my thighs amorously.
Words fail me not only at his admission, but the way his
mouth ravishes me. He wasn’t kidding when he said he was
dying to taste me. The more lax I fall in his grip,
succumbing to his ministrations, the more he gives me,
adding a finger to the mix, then two. Although more
languid than anything else, he’s no less purposeful with
every move he makes, pushing me closer and closer to the
edge.
“Gray,” I pant, my chest heaving as those familiar brisk
tingles start building at the base of my spine.
He doesn’t reply, shaking his head side to side as he
sucks on my clit and buries his face deeper, the prickle of
his scruff only adding to the rush of pleasure ripping
through me. And the second those thick digits crook
against that spot, I nearly crumble.
“Oh, God, right there.”
Another satisfied hum reverberates against my center.
“That’s it, baby girl. Come for Daddy,” he coaxes, slurping
me up, increasing the speed.
That angle. I know that angle, drawing a smile on my
lips. “You’re trying to make me squirt again, aren’t you?”
Grayson groans at the mere mention of it and bobs his
head between my legs. “Hell yes I am.”
“Faster then,” I egg him on. “Fuck me faster.”
Grunting, he heeds my command and pulls his mouth off
me, raising onto his knees for leverage. His other hand
joins the party, too, replacing his tongue on my clit. Doesn’t
take much. He’s close as all hell in minutes time, if that, the
wet sounds renting the air combined with the mewls and
moans falling from my lips a tell of just how close,
prompting him to go harder. Even in the dark, I can see the
sexy as fuck veins in his forearms protruding as he gives it
his all. Hot as fuck to watch, my walls clamping down
around his fingers in response.
“Fuck yes, right there,” he grits through his teeth,
knowing damn well I’m teetering. “Give it to me, Lyric.
Come for me.”
I’m coming before my name even rolls off his tongue,
literally gushing all over him when he suddenly withdraws
his fingers with a hiss. I almost scream in protest as my
orgasm begins ebbing away, but he’s already dragging me
toward him by the thighs. A mere blink and his cock thrusts
inside me, his thumb falling to my clit all over again. He
does nothing but press down on it as he pistons in and out
of me and I’m free falling into euphoria.
Yanking against my restraints as my body bows into him
and his name blasts free from deep in my throat.
I haven’t even come down from the high yet and feel the
belt slip away from my wrists. And then he’s on me, caging
me into the mattress, fusing our lips together.
“I love feeling you come on my cock,” he mumbles
against my mouth. “There’s nothing like it. I could do this
with you all day, baby.”
Same.
“I still can’t believe you’re here right now,” I muse,
winding my arms around his neck.
“Well, believe it ‘cause a few more strokes and I’m
gonna blow inside this sweet pussy, mark you up, make you
mine more than you already are.”
My eyes clamp shut as his words penetrate every layer
of my being, embedding themselves in my soul. Are they
real? Does he mean this? Is he gonna regret this tomorrow
and break my fucking heart? “We’re spiraling,” I warn him,
fingers threading in his hair.
“I know.” He nods, peppering kisses along the curve of
my neck. “I know, baby, and I don’t give a flying fuck. I
want you, this, us. No more running, remember? ”
No. More. Running.
OceanofPDF.com
OceanofPDF.com
 ♫ Blinding Lights - The Weeknd ♫

Nine months later - Present day

“THAT’S IT, just like that! Don’t move!” Marco Mannion, one
of Vogue’s most reputable photographers, belts out above
the shutter of his camera.
My mom just won her second Oscar, and after I scored
the cover of Elle—on my own, thank you very much—Vogue
came knocking with a mother/daughter cover offer.
Obviously, my mother was quick to jump on it and wouldn’t
take no for an answer when I claimed needing to think
about it. I’m not stupid, wouldn’t have said no considering
how big a deal Vogue is, but I wasn’t thrilled about having
to shoot with her. She’s impossibly demanding and I had
the strongest gut feeling she’d sour the whole experience
for me.
And wouldn’t you know—my gut was right.
I’m dying for this to wrap up so I can get the hell out of
here. Not only to put some much needed distance between
us after spending the whole morning with her, but because
the sooner we end the day, the closer we’ll be to her
leaving for three months. Grayson and I have been
counting down the days since she “broke” the news to us
shortly after my birthday at the beginning of the year—ya
girl is finally twenty-one—and we’re down to the wire. She
leaves in a week.
Seven days.
One-hundred and sixty-eight hours.
Ten-thousand-eighty minutes.
Can’t come soon enough.
“Beautiful, ladies! Now give me nice big smiles!” Marco
directs, crouching on his haunches for a different angle.
“Sheena, can you fix Nicolette’s train?” he calls to one of
his assistants. “It’s not showing enough.”
The girl races toward my mom and quickly spreads out
the electric pink train of her gown as instructed.
Meanwhile, all I can think is, thank fuck I don’t have one of
those. Our dresses are similar and the exact same color, but
where hers is long and elegant, mine is short and flirty. A
little more revealing, too, with the plunging sweetheart
neckline. I’d take mine over hers any day.
“Perfect, thank you,” he praises, snapping another few
shots.
Are we done yet?
He’s gotten at least two-hundred images today, if not
more. My cheeks hurt. I’m hungry, tired of being poked,
prodded, and going blind thanks to the continuous flashes.
 “Nicolette, move just a tad behind Lyric and put your
arms around her shoulders, maybe give her a motherly
peck on the cheek.”
My mother obliges without hesitation and locks her
arms around me, pressing her barbie pink lips to my skin.
Marco’s assistants all “Awww” as if we’re the cutest things
in the world. If they only knew how rare this is, how askew
my mother’s maternal instincts really are. Literally takes
every ounce of self-restraint I know not to roll my eyes and
keep my smile firmly intact.
Marco moves around us, his finger tapping away
furiously at the shutter. I’m willing to bet he takes another
fifty shots before finally calling it a wrap.
I all but dash off the set and scurry to the dressing room,
hoping to get changed and out the door before my mom
walks in. I don’t wanna make small talk about how good
that went, don’t wanna make lunch plans with her. Nothing.
Hanging the dress back onto the rack, I start gathering all
of my stuff when my phone goes off somewhere inside my
bag. A smile tickles my lips, expecting it to be Grayson—
he’s probably on lunch—but it’s not.
My brow hoists as I stare at the name on my screen and
accept the call, bringing the phone to my ear. “Leland?”
I’m beyond shocked. He’s called me maybe a handful of
times in the few years I’ve known him.
“Hey, L. You got a minute?” his smooth voice meets my
ears.
“Yeah, I’m just leaving a shoot. What’s up?” I slip my
duffle bag over my head and loop my purse through my
arm, starting for the door.
“Are you free tonight?” he questions, arching my brow
all over again.
“Um, yeah, I guess so. Was just gonna lounge in my pjs.
Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, everything’s great…kind of,” he chuckles. “Some
of my buddies are throwing me a birthday thing down at
Altitude and, apparently, my ex is on the guest list. Don’t
ask me why they thought it’d be a good idea to invite her,
but here the fuck we are. I’m not looking to go stag if she’s
gonna be there and was kinda hoping you’d go with me so
she fucks off.”
I stop in the middle of the hallway and replay what he
just said in my head. He wants me to go as his date so his
ex-girlfriend will leave him alone? The fuck? For starters,
the thought of going out tonight, to a club no less, makes
me wanna walk into oncoming traffic. I’m too tired for that
shit. And two, Grayson is not going to be happy about me
spending the night with another man. We’re way past the
“this is just sex” thing—not that it lasted long—‘cause
there’s definitely feelings involved, but we haven’t really
discussed where that leaves us now, or what it means for
the future. All I know is he’s the only man I spread my legs
for on command and I like it that way.
“I don’t know, Leland. I don’t wanna get into any sort of
confrontation with he—”
“Last thing she’d do is confront you. Trust me, Stella’s
prissy as fuck. She’s crazy, yeah, thinks she’s still got a shot
with me, but not ‘I’ll fight a bitch’ crazy. She values her
appearance too much for that. If she sees me with you,
she’ll take the hint and leave.” He seems confident enough
in that statement, but my stomach is already churning in
protest at the thought of how Gray will react if I agree to
this.
Especially since it’s Leland. After catching us making
out, he’s not very fond of him.
“You sure about that?” I hedge.
“Positive. I wouldn’t put you in a compromising
position,” he vows, and I believe him, I do.
But Daddy…
“Honestly, it’s been a really long day,” I start, trying to
let him down easy. “I just wanna go home, shower, and veg
out in my bed. I’m not really in a par—”
 “Please, L. I know it’s last minute, but I’m down to
return the favor whenever. Anything you need, I got you.”
The kid sounds desperate and my inner-empath ramps up
at the sheer amount of distress in his voice.
Leland has never been anything but nice to me. He’s fun
to hang out with, easy on the eyes—I mean, he’s currently
one of Hollywood’s most sought-after heartthrobs—and
although his friends are a bunch of attention-seeking
playboys, they’re fun, too. I haven’t been out in a while,
either, other than to dinner and a few lowkey house parties
with Carlie, so maybe it could be a good time? And if the
papz are out, they’ll have a field day at the sight of me and
Leland, which wouldn’t exactly be the worst publicity for
my career…
“Fine,” I sigh, starting back down the hallway as my
mom appears at the other end chatting with Marco. “What
time tonight?”
“I can pick you up at ten?” he offers, that panty-
dropping smile clear as day in his voice.
Fucking hell, I’m gonna pass out in this club. “Ten
works, but I’m not trying to be out all night. I’ve gotta be
up by nine to take Carlie to the airport.”
Leland titters softly. “I’ll have you home by two at the
latest.”
“Sounds good. See you tonight.”
“See ya, beautiful.”
Click.
What the hell did I just get myself into?

I’M ALMOST DONE GETTING ready when there’s a knock at

my bedroom door. I pad out from the en suite, hooking my
earring in place, to find Grayson leaned up against the
threshold, arms crossed over his chest. How he can look so
damn fine in a white t-shirt and gray sweatpants is beyond
me, but those ridiculously juvenile butterflies unleash in my
stomach, heart skipping a beat as he flashes me that
crooked smirk. It’s the first time I’m seeing him since
getting home about an hour ago. I purposely went to
Carlie’s after we had lunch to avoid having to spill the
beans, and when I finally waltzed in through the front door,
he was holed up in his office. Needless to say, I rushed
upstairs like a madwoman and hopped in the shower.
“Where’s mom?” I ask, keeping my voice low.
He tips his head toward their room. “Showering.” Those
poignant greens rake over me as I stride past him into my
closet to grab my stilettos, and when I don’t emerge
immediately, opting for the upholstered button bench
nestled between the wall-length shelves, he fills the
doorway with his presence.
Yes, I’m stalling, okay?
You would be, too, if he was your Daddy.
“You going out tonight?” he questions simply.
I nod, slipping my feet into my heels. “For a few hours,
yeah.”
“If you plan to drink, you better not be driving.”
“I’m not driving,” I gulp, hoping like hell he’s not about
to ask me who’s picking me up.
Shutting the door to my closet, he steps further inside
the room, stopping mere inches away from me as I rise to
full height. Even in six-inch heels, he’s still a whole head
taller than me. A grin spread his lips, his palms smoothing
around my waist, dipping to the swell of my ass. “You look
breathtaking,” he murmurs. “Sexy as hell. If I was an
insecure bastard, I’d feel a certain type of way about you
leaving the house in this scandalous little number.”
Kill me. Just kill me now.
 Guilt, fresh and hot, rampages through my veins as he
leans in to claim my lips. There’s nothing urgent about it,
just an everyday, passionate kiss, but I find myself winding
my arms around his neck regardless.
Clinging to him.
Kissing him back in an effort to chase said guilt away.
It doesn’t, only makes it worse, because although
Grayson is still married to my mom, he’s very much mine,
and I’m about to go hang off another man’s arm for the
sake of a favor and possible publicity.
I’m no better than my mother.
The thought has me wanting to blow chunks.
“What’s wrong, baby?” As always, he doesn’t miss a
beat. “Why the long face?”
I hitch a shoulder, burying said long face in the crook of
his neck. “I’m just tired.”
“Then why are you going out? If your body needs rest,
don’t force it to keep running.”
“It’s a birthday thing. I felt bad saying no.” Not a
complete lie.
No, but you’re still leaving out the part where you’ll be
attending as the birthday boy’s date.
Grayson pulls me back then, tucking my hair behind my
ear. “It’s okay to say no, Princess. You can’t please
everyone all the time. Birthday or n—”
Ding dong!
My heart ricochets against my chest and back again like
a frisbee. I freeze in place, heels rooting to the plush carpet
beneath me as I suck in a quick heap of air. He’s here…and
he rang the doorbell… Why wouldn’t he just text me that
he’s outside?
With a smile, Grayson sets another chaste kiss to my lips
and gives my ass a little slap. “I’ve got it. Finish getting
your stuff together and come down when you’re ready. I’ll
keep Carlie occupied so she doesn’t rush you. I know how
she is.”
 Fuck my life. Of course, he’d think it’s my best friend
picking me up.
I should tell him. I should tell him now so he’s not taken
by surprise, but the words refuse to come out of my mouth.
By the time I think I might be able to speak, he’s already
halfway down the stairs. In a panic, I rush around my room
and shove my ID, my credit card, and my phone into a small
clutch, trying to work out how the hell I’m going to diffuse
the bomb that’s about to—
“Hey, Mr. Kane, how’s it going?” Leland’s voice booms,
shooting my shoulders up to my ears as the image of
Grayson’s surprised and probably lethal expression flits
through my mind.
“Leland?” He sounds utterly confused. “What can I do
for you?”
“Oh, I’m just here to pick up Lyric.”
Instant-fucking-silence. Doesn’t last long, but it’s telling
enough. “I see,” Grayson muses, prompting me to move
and get my ass down there before he acts without thinking
it through.
Not that I think he would, but just in case.
At the sound of my heels clicking down the stairs, he
pivots to face me, holding the door wide open. Those
exquisite eyes, framed by dark, pinched brows bore into
me, all but screaming of how displeased and silently
infuriated he really is. They wound me, almost suck the air
right out of me like a dozen blades penetrating my lungs,
but I keep myself moving. I have to. It’s too late to turn
back now.
“I’ll be home before two,” I tell him, my eyes pleading
with him not to jump to conclusions.
Please don’t be mad.
This means nothing.
I’ll explain everything later.
I’m still yours, Daddy.
 He nods and offers nothing more than a “Have fun” as
Leland holds out a tattooed hand for me.
Tentatively, I take it, slipping past Grayson with the knot
of all knots lodged in my throat. Ire rolls off him in white-
hot, scorching waves, directed right at me and the man
currently taking me away from him. If Leland feels it, too, I
wouldn’t know ‘cause he doesn’t seem remotely affected
nor intimidated. As he leads me down the steps, a large
palm slipping to the small of my back, it’s only then I
realize there’s a limo parked in the circular driveway.
His lips fall to my ear as he reaches for the handle. “I
didn’t wanna say anything in front of your step-dad, but
damn, L…you look fucking gorgeous. That dress is killer.”
I smile, but it doesn’t reach my eyes the way it would
have had the compliment come from the man very much
still standing at the door, watching Leland’s every move.
“Thanks, Le.”
“I’m serious.” He takes hold of the back of my neck,
forcing our stares to mingle for longer than a moment. “I’m
glad I asked you to be my date and not someone else.
Feeling lucky as fuck to have you on my arm tonight.”
Do not kiss me. Do not kiss me. Do not fucking kiss me, I
mentally implore him, but he must read the complete
opposite because two seconds later, he’s leaning in, gently
pressing our lips together.
Fuck.

AS PREDICTED, the paparazzi are out full-force when we

arrive at Altitude. They swarm behind the ropes on either
side of the black carpet leading into the building as Leland
and I, along with his buddies—Saul, Antoine, and Rodrigo—
step out of the limo, cameras flashing with every step we
take. I’m typically not one who hides from the papz. I do my
best to ignore them and hold my head high, yet for as much
as I thought being seen with Leland might be a good idea,
I’m not feeling it anymore, somewhat cowering away from
them. I don’t care about the publicity or what opportunities
it could open for me, too bogged down by guilt and regret.
All I wanna do is climb back in the limo and have the driver
take me home to the man who owns every facet of my
being.
Leland must sense my unease because he curls his arm
around me tighter and glues me to his side, ushering me
inside with quick steps. It’s dark as fuck like any other
club, neons and disco lights the only thing keeping the lush
space illuminated. The Weeknd’s “Blinding Lights” blares
around us as we slip past security and head for the stairs
toward VIP.
White couches and tables.
Sky blue walls.
Pulsing neons on the ceiling covered beneath puffs of
“clouds.”
It matches the club’s name perfectly, like something
you’d see gazing out the window of an airplane. The
bouncer stationed outside the entrance for VIP moves aside
and allows us through without question. Rounds of “Happy
Birthday” are instantly thrown around as many a face I
don’t recognize notice the birthday boy making his
entrance. I use that as my getaway, squeezing my way
through the throng to take a seat on one of the couches,
but before my ass even hits the leather cushion, Leland
swoops in and pulls me onto his lap.
That panty-incinerating grin spreads his lips as I regard
him. He really is very good-looking. Short, dark hair,
honeyed eyes with green flecks throughout. Straight nose,
full, rounded lips, a dusting of scruff highlighting a chiseled
jawline. I actually find myself gulping because the more I
look at him, the more I see a younger version of the man
probably stewing at home.
We’re talking down to all-black outfit and all.
The only difference is the ink on his body. With the top
three buttons of his shirt undone, part of his chest piece is
visible. Same with his arms. Like Grayson often does, he’s
got the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, revealing toned
forearms decorated in black designs that trickle down to
his hands. I’m not big on heavily tatted dudes, but they suit
him, and if he weren’t my age—and my heart didn’t beat
helplessly for another—I might actually give it a go with
him.
“What can I get you to drink?” he asks over the music,
running a knuckle down the string of diamonds trailing
between my breasts.
“I’m thinking just a few shots and then I’m tapping out
for the night.”
I will not allow myself to get drunk. Not even a buzz.
Lush Lyric often does stupid shit she might regret later. I
already have enough regrets for the night as it is.
“Oh, come on. Really?” His grin spreads further,
painting one on mine of its own accord.
“I have to be up early, remember? Last thing I need is a
hangover with a chipper Carlie at that hour.” I could cringe
just thinking about it.
My best friend is a morning person. I, on the flip side,
am very much not.
“Alright, alright, shots it is. Yo Saul!” he calls to his
friend who’s already charming the panties off this pretty
little redhead. Saul drags her along with him as he makes
his way over to us, leaning in toward Leland. “Get me a
bottle of tequila. Whatever their top-shelf is.”
Saul nods his dirty blond like the dutiful wingman he is
and disappears to fetch Leland’s request with his conquest
in tow.
 “I don’t need a whole bottle,” I laugh, playfully shoving
his shoulder. “Two shots would’ve sufficed.”
“I’m having some, too, don’t worry,” the birthday boy
titters, tightening his hold on me and squeezing my thigh.
Then he swoops a quick hand up and seizes my chin,
reeling me in closer. “Remind me again why don’t we hang
out more?”
Because I’m in love with my step-dad.
And just like that, my smile dwindles. Not completely,
but only a ghost of it remains. I hitch a shoulder, not at all
missing how his golden stare flicks back and forth between
my eyes and my lips.
“We need to change that,” he states, “And I’m not just
saying that ‘cause Stella is watching us right now.”
Don’t kiss me. Don’t kiss me. Please don’t fucking kiss
me, I chant for the second time tonight, and again he takes
that as his cue, fusing our mouths together. Whether or not
it’s for show, I don’t know, but he’s not my daddy, and I
don’t like it.
Even if we did make out that one time.

OceanofPDF.com
 ♫ MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT- Loveless ♫

I CAN’T EVEN BLAME her.

As much as I want to, toxic green envy consuming every
inch of my body, I can’t. This thing with Lyric evolved from
just sex to I don’t know what the fuck this means territory
faster than we could blink. Literal weeks, that’s all it took
to fall captive to our dynamic and become so wrapped up in
one another, nothing else mattered.
And after nine months, we’re all in.
Well, as all in as we can be given the circumstances.
We’re not in a normal relationship. We can’t be. I’m still
very much married to her mother, and she’s free as a bird,
able to do as she pleases because to the world, and in all
technicality, she’s single. Doesn’t matter that within the
confines of my mind she’s mine, that my heart now beats
for her and only her. At the end of the day, until we’re able
to freely be together, I can’t tell her not to see anyone else,
to be exclusive to me, to be mine in every way possible.
How would that be fair?
And who knows if we’ll ever get there. For all I know,
she could get tired of all this hiding and sneaking around,
and tell me to go fly a kite.
Maybe she’s there now… Maybe that’s why she’s out
with him, that little voice advises, and if it weren’t because
Nicolette were fast asleep beside me, I’d probably be losing
my shit. More. I’d probably be losing my shit more than I
already am. More than I already have for the night.
Opening the door and finding Leland Cortez on the other
side, rather than the snarky redhead I was expecting, took
me more than aback. The more impulsive side of me I’ve
learned to control with age wanted to throw my fist in his
face, while the mature, rational side of me kept me in
check. Although by the look on my face and the few words
that came out of my mouth, I’m sure it was abundantly
clear I was not remotely happy to see him standing on my
doorstep.
Whether he took notice or not, I’m not sure, but I know
she did. Those hypnotizing blues pleaded with me not to be
angry, that we’d talk about this later and she’d explain why
the fuck she was leaving me to go out with him. I wanted
nothing more than to slam the door in his face, wrap my
hands around her pretty little throat, and toss her into the
nearest wall.
Kiss the fuck out her.
Demand answers right then and there while I fucked her
out of that godforsaken revealing dress into the next
dimension.
I did none of that, obviously.
 The worst part wasn’t even letting her leave. It was
watching him extend a hand to her, watching her take it
and move further away from me. Watching the way said
hand swooped down to the small of her back as he guided
her to the limo.
And then watching him kiss her…
Red, that’s all I saw. Pure flaming red, my grip on the
door a metaphor of what I wanted to do to him.
That’s all I’ve seen since, laying in this bed with my
heart jammed in my throat. I can’t sleep, already tried that.
Now it’s almost three and she still isn’t home. I’m sure you
can imagine all the different places my mind has drifted off
to. Are they drinking? How many times has he kissed her?
Has he touched her? Did she let him do anything el—
The front door opens then, putting me on high alert. I
don’t move, hands already balling into fists as she closes it
softly, clicks the locks in place, and starts up the stairs.
Nothing but seconds passes before the door to her room
opens and shuts behind her just as quickly, and it takes
literally every molecule of self-restraint within me not to
immediately go after her.
No, I count to one-hundred, slowly, and then move,
sliding out of bed as quietly as possible to avoid waking my
wife. She doesn’t stir, knocked out cold thanks to the
Ambien I had her take when she claimed to be feeling
unwell.
With cautious, precise steps, I pad out of my bedroom
and down the hallway to Lyric’s room. For a moment there,
I simply stare at the doorway, internally warring with
myself as to whether or not I should let myself inside.
Confronting her at this hour is likely not the smartest
move, but if I don’t, I won’t sleep at all. I know myself; I’ll
lie there for the rest of the night, tossing and turning with
no end in sight until the first rays of the morning sun peek
in through the window.
 Turning the knob at a snail’s pace, I poke my head
inside the uber feminine space. Semi-darkness is the only
thing that greets me, but given the light pouring out from
her bathroom, I know where I’ll find her—which works
perfectly for me. The element of surprise always does.
She’s in nothing but a fucking black thong, washing off
her make-up when I wedge myself against the doorjamb of
her en suite. I don’t say a goddamn word, crossing my arms
over my chest as I watch her every single move. My cock’s
already jumping excitedly at her tight little body on display,
begging me to move, to make myself known so we can bury
ourselves inside her and remind her who said tight body
really belongs to.
Again, I don’t move an inch.
Thirty seconds later, she cuts off the faucet, blindly
reaching for a hand towel, and as she wipes her face dry,
dragging her gaze up to her reflection, that’s when she
notices mine in the doorway. Lyric yelps, not loud enough
to possibly wake her mother, but enough for me to move
and slap a hand over her mouth from behind.
“Shhh!” my lips dance beside her ear as our eyes meet
in the mirror.
She cinches her fingers around my wrist, wrenching
herself from my grip. “Jesus Christ, you fucking scared
me,” she whisper-hisses. “Why are you awake?”
“Because I was waiting for you to get home,” I grit.
Her frame trembles slightly against me, those eyes
instantly pleading with me all over again. “Are you… Are
you mad at me?”
“I shouldn’t be. I have no goddamn right to be. But
yes”—I dig my teeth into her neck, pressing her flush to my
front—“I’m livid, stupidly-fucking-jealous.”
“It’s nothing, he means nothing,” she reassures me,
quickly pivoting to face me, her arms winding around my
neck. “I swear to you, Grayson, on my life. He’s just a
friend. I was doing him a strictly platonic favor.”
 “And what favor was that?”
“Going as his date. His buddies were throwing him a
party at Altitude, and they invited his ex. He didn’t know
why, they’re fully aware he’s done with her, but they did it
anyway. Being there alone would’ve meant having her up
his ass all night, and he didn’t wanna deal, so he asked me
to go with him. And it worked, the moment she saw us
together, she left.”
I try taking comfort in that, try working it out in my
brain that this was nothing more than one friend helping
another, but the closer I hug her against me, seeking solace
in her warmth and the fact she’s home, with me, the more
lingering remnants of his scent waft up my nose.
Platonic my dick.
“You fucking smell like him,” I growl, pushing away from
her in disgust, ire resurfacing and hurdling through my
being zero to a hundred before either of us can blink. “Did
he kiss you?”
He had to. She’s doused in his scent, meaning he was
likely all over her. Wouldn’t be the first time, I think to
myself, the image of them making out at that pool party all
those months ago flitting to the forefront of my mind.
“You saw him do it,” she gulps, taking tentative steps
toward me, reaching out for me in a panic.
But I catch her wrists and shake my head. “I mean after
that. Did he kiss you again after leaving this house?”
Take it down a notch, Grayson. You can’t be mad. She’s
not yours, not completely, the rational side of me whispers,
attempting to keep me in check.
Attempt being the keyword because it does nothing.
Abso-fucking-lutely nothing. All I can see is them drinking,
dancing, him groping every inch of her as she moves to the
beat…
“He did, yes.” Once again, she breaks free from my hold
and successfully embraces me, pulling me with her to the
marble counter of her sink. “He kissed me a few times
throughout the night and I enjoyed none of them.”
Rein it in. Do not explode. You can’t be fucking mad at
her.
Lifting her onto the smooth surface, I wrench her legs
apart and step between them, roughly claiming her tits.
“Are you sure about that? ‘Cause you sure seemed to enjoy
his tongue down your throat not a year ago,” I grate,
pinching her nipples, tugging them, rolling them between
my fingers.
“Positive,” she half-moans, eyes clamping shut. “I don’t
want him; he’s not you.”
“Look at me.” A demand, one she obliges to free of
hesitation. With our stares intertwined, I snake a hand
between us and pull her panties aside, sliding my fingers
teasingly through her pussy lips. “Did he touch you?”
“No. He didn’t even try.”
“Don’t lie to me.” The words whir through my teeth as I
push a purposeful digit inside her. “You’re wet.”
“For you,” she mewls. “I’m wet for you, Daddy, thought
about you the whole time I was there.”
“Were you drinking?” I press because that would explain
it. Alcohol makes my little brat horny.
Lyric nods, sending a rush of relief coursing through me,
a relief multiplied in tenfold as I withdraw my finger, pull
my now aching cock free from my briefs, and promptly
drive inside her heat. “Swear to me, Lyric. Swear to me he
didn’t touch you, that he didn’t stretch you out and get to
feel how tight this sweet little pussy is.”
“I swear.” A ragged moan tumbles off her lips as she
clings to me. “I fucking swear. All he did was kiss me.”
The reminder—not that I needed one—has me tangling a
hand in her hair and crashing our lips together, hips flexing
in and out of her at an unhurried pace. “I wanna erase
him,” I mumble against her mouth. “I wanna erase every
kiss he set on these lips, erase the feeling of his hands on
your body.”
“No need. He’s irrelevant. The only kiss that matters is
yours. Only touch that matters is yours.”
Mine. She’s mine.
No she’s not.
“I wanna be so mad at you,” I groan, swallowing her in
my arms, my thrusts picking up in speed. “I wanna be so
fucking mad at you, but I know I can’t. I can’t stop you from
seeing anyone, no matter how jealous it makes me. You’re
not mine.”
“Yes, I am. I’m more yours than you could possibly
understand,” she whimpers. “I don’t want anyone else. No
one’s kiss, no one’s touch, no one’s cock. This pussy is
yours. All fucking yours.”
“Fuck…” My voice catches in my throat. “Say it again.”
“Yours,” she stresses. “This pussy is all yours.”
“Mine,” I whisper, arms curling beneath her legs for
leverage.
“All yours.” Leaning back on her hands, her gaze drops
between us, and the heat in her stare as she watches me
fuck her only fuels me on. “That’s it, just like that,” she
purrs. “Rail me, Daddy. Make me cream and scream for
you.”
Jesus Christ.
Overdrive. I go into overdrive, giving her every inch,
pushing my stamina to the limit. The sound of our skin
slapping echoes off the bathroom walls, melding with my
labored breaths and her subdued mewls of pleasure. Thank
God for the exhaust fan drowning some of that out,
otherwise I’d be more worried about Nicolette waking up.
“I catch him around you again and I’m gonna lose it,” I
warn. “That little playboy prick likes you, I know he does,
and I’m not down with it.”
“No more Leland,” she affirms, her tits bouncing with
every slam of my hips. “No more anyone, I promise. Only
you.”
I wish.
“I can’t ask you to do that, Princess. It’s not fair to you
when we still have to deal with your mom. Anyone but him,
though.” I don’t like him, and maybe it’s because I saw the
way he touched her as she pinned him to that chair the
night of the pool party. He could undoubtedly handle her,
probably give it to her as good as I can. Hell, perhaps even
better. He’s younger, in better shape. I’m not saying I’m
lacking in the physique department because I take damn
good care of myself, but still… My now forty-five years can
play against me sometimes.
“If you don’t want me to date, all you have to do is say
that,” she mewls.
God, I want to. I want to but I can’t. Because I don’t
know what the fuck we’re doing, what this is, much less if
we’ll even last. She deserves more than me, more than I
can give her, more than some hidden relationship with her
mother’s husband.
“Just no Leland,” I repeat, pushing those thoughts from
my mind as the beginnings of my orgasm starts to take
hold. “Anyone but him.”
The conversation stops there, mostly because the power
of my thrusts doesn’t allow much room for us to talk. I’m
going far too hard.
“You gonna come for me, baby?”
Lyric nods, still hypnotized by the way my cock drives in
and out of her cunt. “Hell yes. Almost there.”
“Your clit.” I drip my spit on it. “Rub it for me, Princess.”
She does, and I swear I’ve never wished I could take a
picture so damn much in my life. The way her pussy looks
wrapped around my cock right now, her pretty in pink
manicured claws working that sensitive little bud.
Fucking hell.
“Just like that. You’re such a good girl, such a good
listener. So fucking beautiful.”
 “Ooh,” she moans, throwing her head back and just
barely missing the mirror. “Right there. Right there, Daddy.
I’m so close, gonna come so hard for you.”
I didn’t think I could go any harder, but I do. This is
what she does to me, how she fuels me. I wanna give her
everything, every goddamn inch and more. Speed, depth,
I’m grunting and groaning through each thrust, provoking
the sweetest sounds out of her in time with the clashes of
our skin. She’s too damn loud, though, putting us at risk.
My hand slaps over her mouth all over again, body draping
over her, ramming her into the marble counter as our gazes
fuse as one.
“Come for me, Lyric. Let me have it,” I growl. “Show
Daddy how much you love his cock, how much you love the
way he fucks you raw. Be the best girl and give it to—”
Detonation.
Thank fuck for my hand still sealed over her mouth
because the moan that leaves her literally vibrates against
my palm as her body seizes and trembles beneath me.
And the best part of unraveling right behind her is
watching my cum drip out of that pretty pussy as I pull out.
Leland Cortez might have had her on his arm tonight,
but she’s going to bed with my mark.
“Mine.” A quick slap to her cunt and I’m pushing my
release back in with two determined fingers, my teeth
catching her bottom lip. “Fucking mine.”

OceanofPDF.com
 ♫ TiO - ZAYN ♫

“ALRIGHT, MY LOVES, I’M OFF!” Nicolette belts from the

grand foyer. “Where are my good luck hugs and kisses?”
My hand stills around my cock at the sound of her voice,
head slamming back into my seat. “Goddammit,” I growl.
Those delicious moans I’m sickeningly obsessed with
continue ringing out in my ears—courtesy of my AirPods—
as Lyric spreads her pretty pink cunt wide in front of the
screen. The image jerks me in my grasp, compelling me to
continue, and I almost do, but I know if I don’t get my ass
out there to wish my wife safe travels in the next thirty
seconds, she’ll throw a fucking fit.
 Jaw grit, I swipe the video away for later use and toss
my phone onto the desk, palming my cock back to its
default state. Not an easy feat when every frame of the clip
is still flickering through my mind. Alas, I make it happen,
and with a quick tuck into my sweats, I set the AirPods next
to my phone and amble out of my office. I’m not halfway
down the hall when I note my Lyric is still very much
planted on the couch in the living room, the sounds of some
ridiculous reality TV show renting the air around her.
“Lyric, go say goodbye to your mom,” I order, my tone
even yet stern as always when her mother’s around.
Those pretty blue eyes of hers cut my way before rolling
to the heavens, going along perfectly with our little act.
“For the millionth time, Grayson, I’m grown as fuck. Please
stop ordering me around like a child.”
“Perhaps when you stop acting like one, I will. I know
damn well you heard your mother. Considering you’re, how
was it you said it? Grown as fuck, right? You should be
more than familiar with the importance of respect. Now, go
say goodbye and cut the attitude. I could do without it.”
That was not part of the act. I can absolutely do without
the attitude and she knows it. Another eye roll follows suit,
but she does as I’ve asked nonetheless, brushing past me
with purpose. Takes everything in me to subdue the
chuckle bubbling in my chest as I shake my head and
saunter behind her, anticipation coursing through my veins.
We’ve only been waiting for this day for months now.
“For the love of God, please be good,” Nicolette pleads
with her daughter, cupping her face in her hands. “Last
time I was off filming on location for this long, I came back
to a scandal with you and that atrocious football player.”
“It wasn’t a scandal, mom,” Lyric sighs, and although I
can’t see her face, I know she’s rolled her eyes again. “We
were dating, he cheated, and I slashed his tires. He
deserved it.”
 I’ll admit, Reggie did deserve it, but guess who had to
pay for that? Me, that would be me. And not just for new
tires, either. The motherfucker threatened to sue.
Money talks, though—even for those already rolling in it.
“Yes, well, let’s not have a repeat of that, shall we?”
Nicolette chides, gently slapping her daughter’s cheeks
before pecking her nose. “I’m hoping for another Oscar
with this one, and I can’t work the camera properly if I’m
worried about the paparazzi catching you during another
momentary lapse of judgment.”
Without another word, Lyric promptly peels herself from
her mother’s hold and heads back the way she came,
shooting me her famous side-eye as she does so.
“Good luck,” I direct at my wife, draping an expected
arm around her waist. “Knock ‘em dead.”
She pecks my lips as dryly as she kissed her spawn and
nods. “That’s the plan. I’m going to miss you,” she coos,
running a perfectly manicured claw down my chest.
Sure, you are—while David’s balls deep in your cunt,
right?
“I’ll miss you too, honey.” I smile for good measure. “Call
me when you land.”
“I will. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
One last kiss and she’s off, hopping into the backseat of
the Bentley as Baxter, our new on-call driver for events and
things of this nature, stows the last of her bags in the
trunk.
I don’t wait for him to pull away, shutting and locking
the doors with a relieved sigh, my shoulders literally
sagging along with it. Finally, is all I can think. Twelve
weeks of peace with my princess.
Turning on my heel, I head back to my office, and once
again, as I’m passing the living room, I’m stopped dead in
my tracks at the sight that greets me.
Lyric.
 On the couch.
Bare from the waist down.
Playing with her pussy.
Fucking hell.
“Is she gone?” she questions, all seemingly innocent, as
I cross my arms and lean up against the threshold,
watching her every move.
“Might be now. Baxter was loading the last of her
luggage when I closed the door.”
“Are you gonna come fuck me, then?” She regards me
beneath her lashes as she asks this, slipping a teasing
finger inside her tight little hole.
My cock agrees, kicking beneath my sweats. “Tempting,
but no. I have some work to do.”
“Liar, liar, pants on fire, Daddy. I know you were in there
watching the little present I sent you earlier,” she quips.
“Isn’t it so much better in person?”
It is, there’s no denying it, but I love those dirty texts
too. They keep me sane when I have to deal with her
mother. “Yes, however, I don’t remember asking you to
strip down and put on a show. In fact, I specifically said not
to, considering Nancy is still cleaning around here
somewhere. Naughty girls don’t get rewards, Lyric,
especially when they can’t follow directions.”
“But—”
“But nothing. Get dressed and go about your day. Daddy
will fuck you to sleep later tonight.”

OceanofPDF.com
 ♫ Do It for Me - Rosenfeld ♫

A FEW HOURS LATER, there’s a soft knock on my office door.

“Come in,” I call out, typing away at my keyboard.
Seconds later, Nancy pokes her dark head in, only
stepping inside when I motion for her to do so.
“I’m all done for the day, sir,” she states, clasping her
hands before her. “Is there anything else you need from me
before I go?”
I shake my head, not bothering to look her in the eye.
She’s efficient and one hell of a housekeeper, but she
mistakes eye contact with me flirting. “Nothing at all. Go
enjoy your weekend, Nancy. I’ll see you next week.”
 “Are you sure?” she hedges, clearly looking for a reason
to linger.
“Positive.”
Through my peripheral, I catch her sulking nod before
she sees herself out without another word, restoring the
tranquil silence of my office.
Tranquility that’s short-lived because less than five
minutes later, as I’m wrapping up the email to Alvin about
the updates for CloudNine, there’s another knock at the
door.
This woman.
“Come in,” I sigh, mentally reining myself in from
exploding on my housekeeper.
Except it’s not my housekeeper.
It’s Lyric—in that silky baby pink robe I’ve peeled off her
more times than I can count at this point. She’s styled her
platinum blonde hair in those loose waves I love wrapping
around my fist, and glossed those pouty lips she loves
wrapping around my cock.
My brow perks curiously. “Going somewhere?”
Lyric shakes her head and makes her way around my
desk, sidling up beside me. “If by somewhere you mean
Pound Town, then yes. Otherwise, no.”
Pound Town. I nearly snort at that one. “And who exactly
is taking you there?” I press, knowing all too well she
means me.
And like the bold little thing she is, she pushes me back,
shoves my keyboard out of the way, and effortlessly situates
herself onto my desk, crossing her legs. “Who else? You
know this pussy is exclusively yours.”
I do, but hearing her confirm it strokes my ego in a way
nothing else can these days. The fact I’m the only man she
allows to savor, devour, and worship her—when I shouldn’t
be—does things to me.
Serious things.
 Reclining into my seat, I rub at the scruff dusting my
chin, debating whether or not I should, in fact, take her to
Pound Town sooner rather than later. “I’m very well aware,
but I’m positive it’s not bedtime, now is it?”
“No, but perhaps this might sway you.” With that, she
opens the robe, shrugging the lush material off her
shoulders, that sinful, coquettish expression painted on her
beautiful features.
I have to bite my tongue to avoid not only the groan that
wants to break free, but the way this little set is actually
ten seconds away from swaying me. Pink, her signature
color, and so damn sheer, I can see everything meant to be
sheathed. It’s the thin diamond garter belt hugging her
waist and thighs that has me out of my right mind, though.
“Is that the one I got you for your birthday?” I question,
reaching out to finger the string of diamonds laying against
her soft skin.
Lyric nods and kills me a little more as she spreads her
legs, revealing a wet spot soaked into the mesh-like
material of her panties.
I’m instantly triggered, unable to hold myself back,
much less give her the chance to verbally respond. With a
growl, my hands fly to her pert little ass, dragging her to
the very edge of my desk. The swift motion drops her onto
her elbows as I duck my head, running the tip of my nose
along her slit. A single deep inhale; that’s it. That’s all it
takes to make me hard as fuck, my mouth watering for a
taste.
Feels like a century since the last time I got my hands on
her alone like this.
“Please do it,” she breathes, gazing down at me with
those dazzling pleading eyes.
“Do what?”
Tipping her chin, she motions between us, teeth sinking
into her bottom lip.
 “You know that’s not gonna fly,” I chuckle, thumbs
caressing the bare skin of her hips. “Use your words, baby.
Tell me what you want.”
Lyric’s cheeks bloom with the most enticing shade of
pink, the same rosy shade that often showcases my
handprint on her ass. “Lick it.”
“Lick what?”
“My pussy. Lick my pussy. Please,” she whines, adorably,
desperately.
“I shouldn’t, you know.” It’s a statement, not a question.
“Not only did you cop an attitude with me earlier, you also
deliberately went against what I asked you not to—”
“I’m—”
“Don’t interrupt me, Lyric. It’s rude and disrespectful,” I
chide, effectively popping her mouth shut. “You deliberately
went against what I asked you not to do, but fuck, you’re so
sweet”—my lips press to her heat—“sexy as hell and so
goddamn tempting, and I can’t find it in me to deny you.
Not when you asked so politely.”
This time, it’s my tongue that flicks teasingly against her
slit, luring the softest mewl off her lips. She wants to
protest, beg me to remove the scrap separating us, but I’m
already tugging it aside, hissing through my teeth as that
pretty little cunt juts out for me.
“Let me be very clear,” I start, spreading her soft lips
with my fingers. “You’re off the hook right now because I’m
feeling generous and you’ve laid yourself out for me on a
silver platter. Next time, though, I’ll leave you begging for
relief. Understood?”
She nods. “Yes.”
My cock jolts, a sliver of a smirk tickling one corner of
my mouth. “Good girl. Now lay back and let your daddy
indulge. It’s been too long, Princess.”
Okay, so it really hasn’t been that long. We sneak plenty
of moments here and there, but they’re always rushed, and
although the possibility of getting caught is, admittedly,
quite the rush, there’s nothing like being able to spread my
little brat out and make her come for hours on end.
The first lapse through her pussy lips is always fucking
heaven, eyes shutting in bliss as her essence blasts over my
tastebuds. Like a man starved, I lap and suck my way from
slit to clit, relishing every cock-twitching sound she makes
for me. It’s not long before her body’s quivering in my
grasp.
“Oh my G— Oh, oooh! Right there! Right-fucking-there,”
she moans, threading her dainty, manicured fingers in my
hair.
“Don’t come,” I growl. “You hear me, Lyric? Don’t.
Fucking. Come.”
And as aroused as the command always makes her, she
always objects against it too, desperate to succumb to the
euphoria that awaits her on the other side of the edge. Only
her objection never comes to be, not this time anyway. The
sudden blare of my phone halts us both in place as I ease
back and flick my eyes to the now illuminated screen.
It’s Nora, and considering she never calls me on
weekends, I know I have to answer it.
Fuck.
Stare cutting back to Lyric, I set a finger over my lips
and flash her a warning stare. “Not a peep.”
She nods and makes way to close her legs, but a quick
thrust of two fingers inside her tight cunt has them falling
open all over again. “How can I help you, Nora?”
“I’m so sorry to bother you, Mr. Kane, but I just noticed
an email I seem to have missed during the week and
wanted to speak to you about it.”
This probably could’ve been a text, but okay… “Go for
it,” I affirm, keeping my tone even as I focus on Lyric’s
pussy, lazily plunging in and out of her.
“Well, evidently, Apple is hosting a charity gala tonight
for Ukraine and they were hoping you’d be one of their
benefactors,” she explains.
 Definitely could’ve been a text. “Who are the others?”
“All the large social media platforms, so basically Reddit,
Facebook, Instagram, TikTok, Twitter, and Snapchat.”
“And what time does it start?” I question, biting back a
hiss as Lyric grows wetter and wetter, my cock straining
painfully against my sweats.
While Nora answers and goes on to state she can RSVP
—blaming the late response on herself, of course—Lyric
and I lock eyes. She mouths a wanton fuck as those pretty
blues roll to the back of her head, hands flying up to her
tits to tweak her nipples through the soft fabric of her bra.
And the way her cunt clamps around me only fuels me
onward.
A third finger comes into play as I graze my thumb over
her clit, working her inside and out, stretching her, luring
the sweetest whimpers off her tongue. Whimpers that
amplify by the second, evolving into mewls and soft moans
I’m sure Nora can probably hear. Jaw grinding, I swiftly
pull out and pinch the sensitive bud tightly between my
knuckles, effectively silencing her in an instant.
“Mr. Kane?” Nora’s voice sucks me out of the lust-fueled
vortex.
“Yes, I’m here, sorry.” I clear my throat, sliding my
fingers back inside Lyric’s pussy. “Can you repeat that?”
“They’re allowing a plus one. Should I RSVP for you and
the Mrs?”
“No, she’s out of the country. Go ahead and account for
a plus one, though.”
“Will do, sir. Again, I’m so sorry I missed this. Truly, I
don’t know how when my email is always—”
“Nora, it’s fine. Not a big deal,” I interject, desperate to
get off the phone. “Is that all you have for me, or did you
need something else?”
“No, sir, that’s it.”
“Perfect, thank you. Have a great weekend. I’ll see you
on Monday.” And with that, I end the call, throwing the
phone haphazardly onto my desk as I rush out of my seat
and wedge myself between Lyric’s legs, my fingers still
deep inside her cunt.
“I said not a fucking peep,” I curse in her ear, pressing
my body flush against hers. “I have no doubts she heard
you.”
Lyric hitches a shoulder, locking her arms around my
neck. “Shouldn’t have shoved those thick fingers in my
pussy. You know I can’t help it once you wind me up.”
I withdraw again, long enough to quickly slap said pussy
before thrusting them back in. “Don’t sass me, Lyric. You
know I can’t stand that shit.”
“Such a liar, Daddy. You fucking love it,” she moans,
seeking out my lips.
She’s right; I do, especially when she mouths off for long
periods of time. Makes me harder than a goddamn rock.
The longer it goes on, the more I get to punish her later.
She’s gotten bolder over the last nine months, too,
Fusing our mouths together, I increase the speed of my
ministrations with purpose. “You’re on a roll today, baby.
Racked yourself up three strikes already.”
“Three? How? When? I thought you said I was off the
hook?” Her questions shoot into my mouth as she arches
into me, cueing me into overdrive.
“You were when it was only one. But now you have
strike two: your inability to follow directions, and strike
three: talking back.”
Lyric breaks free from our kiss as her head rolls back,
mouth gaping, eyes squeezing shut. “Fuck, I’m gonna
come!”
No, you’re not.
The second I feel her release sucking me in deeper, I
withdraw with a growl, my chest heaving wildly, cock
throbbing as she whines in defeat and pins me with those
stunning blues. “Why? Whyyy? I was right there!”
 “I told you next time I would leave you begging for
relief, remember? Naughty girls don’t get rewards, Lyric,” I
repeat the same words from earlier. “Now, go put on one of
those pretty dresses and meet me back down here by six-
thirty.”
“What? Why?” she questions, lifting herself onto shaky
elbows.
“‘Cause I have a gala to attend and you’re going as my
plus one.”
“But I’m your—”
“Step-daughter?” I smirk. “Yes, I’m well aware.”

THIS WAS A BAD IDEA. A terrible idea, really. I should’ve told

Nora I couldn’t make it and spared myself the torture, but I
wasn’t all there during our call, too focused on toying with
a certain brat to truly realize what I was getting myself
into.
Now it’s too late.
We’re moments away from arriving at The Terrace at LA
LIVE and I don’t know how the fuck I’m going to keep my
hands to myself with her looking like that. She’s done it on
purpose, that much I do know.
“This goes without saying, but behave yourself,” I relay
quietly, eyes on the rearview to ensure Baxter isn’t
listening in.
Lyric chuckles softly beside me, raking her fingers
through those pristinely styled tresses. “Can’t promise
anything when I didn’t get to co—”
“So help me, God, Lyric…” I death-grip her thigh. “We’re
going to be in the public eye. Do not make me regret
bringing you.” I feel rather than see her roll her eyes in
response, mentally adding another mark to her tally for the
evening. “Strike four.”
“Oh, c’mon, really?”
“You’re lucky I’m not adding two more since you want to
continue sassing me.”
The undoubted rebuttal dies on her tongue as Baxter
pulls the Bentley up to the curb littered with paparazzi and
reporters. “What time shall I be back, Mr. Kane?”
“I don’t plan to stay for more than two hours,” I reply,
sheer seconds before someone pulls the door open.
“Nine o’clock, got it,” he smiles, the corners of his kind,
wise eyes crinkling.
After a quick walk down the red carpet with Lyric on my
arm and an assault of flashes burning our corneas, we
finally make it inside the venue. One of the event
coordinators kindly escorts us to the rooftop where the
gala’s already in full swing on the opulently decorated
outdoor terrace. I tip my head at the young woman by way
of thanks, ushering Lyric out of the elevator and through
the groups of people to the bar, greeting several familiar
faces along the way.
“Bourbon, neat,” I tell the bartender.
He nods and flicks his gaze—one that strays a touch past
appropriate—on Lyric. “And for you, ma’am?”
“Whiskey sour, please.” She flashes him that scintillating
smile, prompting him to give her another blatant once over
that leaves me clenching my jaw in silent fury.
Half of me can’t blame him. The dress she’s wearing
screams look at me. It’s simple in a sense: thin straps with
a V neckline, cut-outs along her waist, and a deep slit at
her right thigh. But the damned thing is also made of
diamonds, literally all of it, drawing eyes on her left and
right.
That’s where the other half of me, although prideful to
have such a stunning woman on my arm is, how is it the
kids say nowadays? Salty? Yes, the other half of me is salty
as hell and detests every second of it—because she’s mine.
She’s not yours. Stop it.
But that’s the thing…I can’t stop. The thought has
plagued me more and more since the Leland debacle last
week, nearly driving me to the brink of insanity, especially
seeing every tabloid known to mankind plastering different
images of them exiting the limo in front of Altitude,
questioning if they’re an item.
Even if it’s not with Leland, I know it’s bound to happen;
she’s not mine, not the way I wish she was, and I told her I
couldn’t ask her for exclusivity when I can’t offer it in
return. But that doesn’t make it any easier of a pill to
swallow.

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 ♫ Good For You - Selena Gomez & A$AP Rocky ♫

GOD, he’s sexy.

Leaned up on one of the bar height cocktail tables, I
watch him from over the rim of my third whiskey sour,
mesmerized by his suave, gleaming smile and that husky
laugh that seems to boom through the air, despite the fact
we’re in the middle of the city. Everyone around him erupts
in laughter, too, some a little too hard, like the women
ogling him with hearts in their eyes. Who can blame them,
honestly. Grayson just has this way of charming everyone
he engages with. It comes effortlessly for him, a natural
way of being.
 “Aren’t you Nicolette Leclaire’s daughter?” a voice I
don’t recognize asks suddenly.
I have to quell the urge to roll my eyes at the mere
mention of my mother before turning toward the source, a
fake smile plastering itself on my face. “I am, yes. And you
are?”
He’s handsome, I’ll tell you that. Dirty blond hair, hazel
eyes, sharp jaw. Nowhere near that of Grayson’s caliber,
but still handsome nonetheless.
“Cash Lawson,” he grins, extending a hand. “My dad’s a
producer. He worked on ‘Hunted by Him’ with your mom.”
Not her best film. “Oh.” My fake smile widens as I slip
my palm in his. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Cash.”
“Likewise. Lyric, right?”
Nodding, I pull myself free from his vise after a brief
shake.
“Can I get you a drink?” he questions, prompting me to
flaunt the glass in my hand.
“Already have one.”
“Oh, right,” he titters. “Well, I can’t imagine a beautiful
woman like yourself is here alone. Where’s your date?”
This time I do roll my eyes. “No date. I’m here with my
step-dad since my mom is out of town. He’s one of the
benefactors.”
“I completely forgot your mom got remarried. Who’s
your step-dad again?”
“Grayson Kane.” My heart palpitates just saying his
name. “CEO of CloudNine.”
Cash’s eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets. “Holy fuck.
Grayson Kane is your stepdad?”
Unfortunately. “Sure is.”
“That’s fucking sick! I’ve got a profile on his platform.
It’s better than Facebook!” he remarks animatedly.
My brow arches ‘cause I would not have pinned him for
the kinky type. “Might wanna keep it down. Facebook’s
people are here,” I chuckle.
 “Yeah, well, their community violations are bullshit.
Can’t post anything without getting flagged these days.
CloudNine is where it’s at!”
“I’d have to agree with you there,” comes from that
sinful, familiar timbre, a large hand splaying at the small of
my back as he sidles up beside me.
When I glance up at him, he flashes Cash that damned
smile, defined jaw flexing with the motion. That scruff-
dusted, sparsely silvered jaw. Tie that in with the perfectly
tailored suit, the top three buttons of his white shirt
undone—exposing his hard chest—and I’m all but drooling,
my panties growing wetter the longer I stare at him.
Yes, Daddy.
Cash appears awestruck, extending his hand all too
eagerly. “Mr. Kane, it’s so nice to meet you. I’m Cash
Lawson.”

OceanofPDF.com
 ♫ Hold On, We’re Going Home - Drake & Majid Jordan ♫

I DON’T GIVE a fuck who you are. “It’s nice to meet you too,
Cash.” I give his hand a firm shake.
“Seriously, great job with the site, Mr. K. My most recent
hookups have been top tier thanks to it,” he grins.
I know they say not to judge a book by its cover, but this
kid does not look like the type to be into some of the shit
you’ll find on CloudNine.
“Glad to hear it,” I answer, silently willing him to step
away from Lyric and get lost.
Cash’s grin spreads as he rubs at the back of his head
anxiously. “I hate to ask, man, but can I get a selfie? My
buddies will flip shit when they find out I’ve met you.”
“Sure,” I smile tightly, keeping my hand fused to Lyric’s
back as I lean into the frame and he snaps a quick shot.
“This is perfect. Thanks!” The kid looks like he just won
the Willy Wonka golden ticket as he shoots off the image to
said buddies, then pockets his phone, returning his full
attention to me. “Any new cool additions coming to the site
soon?”
Lyric takes a sip from her drink, glancing up at me
expectantly. She knows I don’t like sharing prematurely.
“All will be revealed in due time.” I mirror her motions
and knock back a hefty swing of my drink, too. “Expect to
see some changes in the next month or two.”
“I’m stoked already,” Cash beams. “I probably spend
more time on the site than I should, but it’s at the top of all
socials for me right now. The lack of unnecessary
censorship is what makes it top tier, in my opinion. Aside
from Snapchat, all the other platforms treat adults like
children, blocking anything that might offend all the
snowflakes of the world.”
I mean, he’s not wrong, and I’m grateful to have users
who appreciate the site for what it is and what it offers the
kink community, but he’s already struck a chord with me
where Lyric is concerned, and I’m done with this
conversation.
Thankfully, Cash’s father calls him over just moments
later, sparing me of needing to spout some half-assed reply.
He thanks me for his time, shakes my hand, tips his head at
Lyric, and then he’s gone.
“Well, that was interesting,” she laughs softly, grabbing
a champagne flute off the tray from a passing server. “And
here I was thinking he was trying to hit on me.”
“He was, trust me. It was written all over his face from
the moment he approached you.”
“Does that mean you were watching me, Mr. Kane?” She
bats her lashes coquettishly, taking a generous sip of the
bubbly.
“I’m always watching, baby. Always.”
“Then that means you should’ve seen the little hearts in
his eyes when you showed up. I think someone has a crush
on you.”
I nearly roll mine at her jab. “There were no hearts,
Lyric. Don’t start,” I warn.
“Start what? It’s true. My gaydar is going off right now.
Though he did mention I was too beautiful to be here alone,
so maybe he swings both ways. I wouldn’t mind being
caught in the middle of that sandwich.”
My spine stiffens, and I mean ramrod straight stiffens.
“I’m sorry—what was that?”
“A Daddy and Cash sandwich,” she hums approvingly,
leaning in closer. “Taking you both at the same time would
be fun.”
Red.
I see pure flaming red in point five seconds.
Just the mere thought of that makes me want to go on a
goddamn rampage.
“What’s wrong, Daddy? Don’t like the thought of
sharing?” she quips knowingly.
“Not even slightly,” I grate.
“Oh, c’mon. You in my pussy, him in my ass, or vice
versa. Both of you watching me come apart for you. Can’t
tell me that doesn’t sound like a good time.”
It doesn’t.
In fact, the image she’s painted only spikes my
irrationality that much more. My blood pressure, too. Then
again, that’s exactly what she wants. Alcohol makes her not
only horny, but brattier than usual, and considering she’s
consumed a decent amount since arriving, she’s sliding into
full-on brat mode—consequences be damned.
“Keep it up, Lyric,” I hiss in her ear, my gaze circling
around the room to ensure we aren’t being watched. “By all
means, keep it the fuck up.”
 She lifts the champagne glass to her full lips in a feeble
attempt to cover up the grin curling the corners of her
mouth.
My blood rushes faster as a result, hand cinching so
tightly around the tumbler in my grasp, I’m surprised it
doesn’t shatter. “That little smirk right there is what gets
you into trouble. You think this is funny?”
Lyric nods subtly and drains what’s left in her glass.
“Very funny. I love working you up.”
“Yeah? Well, let’s see if you still feel the same when we
get home.”

OceanofPDF.com
 ♫ Tremble - Nicole Miller ♫

BRAT MODE ACTIVATED.

Brat mode acknowledged.
Brat meets her maker.
I knew I was screwed the second Grayson went rigid at
my side. Should I have continued pushing him? No. But he
left me wet and wanting before we left the house to attend
this little soiree.
Consider this my payback.
Although, I can’t exactly classify it as payback when he’s
about to pay me back in tenfold, now can I?
 Consciously aware of the fact Baxter could glance back
here at any moment, I carefully slide my hand across the
seat, winding my pinky with Grayson’s. He doesn’t shoo me
away, but makes no move to engage, his stoic gaze trained
out the window, jaw ticking as he undoubtedly
contemplates all the things he’s going to do to me once he
gets me alone.
Yeah, I’m so fucked.
Impending doom aside, we stay like this for the rest of
the drive, only releasing one another when Baxter pulls the
Bentley to a stop in the circular driveway and ambles
around the back end to open the door. Even then, Grayson
doesn’t utter a word to me, stopping long enough to
dismiss Baxter for the evening before ushering me inside
the dark, empty house.
That is until he shuts and locks the doors.
As I’m slipping off my heels, his head swings my way,
ardent greens pinning me in place. “You have five minutes
to get out of that dress and find your way to my room.
Understood?”
I nod, but my silent reply doesn’t fly. Not remotely.
“Am I clear, Lyric?” he asks again.
Another nod. “Yes, sir.”
He’s gone after that, trotting up the stairs without a
glance or word back. No good girl or other words for
praise. Nothing. I stand there for several moments,
watching him ascend the grand staircase until he
disappears, a rousing shiver rattling its way down my
spine. Grayson’s brand of punishments are that of the best
kind. I’m always spent and deliciously sore after the fact,
and tonight will definitely be no different.
Heels in hand, I make my way up to my room and strip
down to nothing. I contemplate finding him in this state,
but I’ve learned in the last nine months how much he loves
it when I dress up for him since, you know, my mother can’t
be bothered to love her husband correctly. Padding into my
store of a closet, I rip open one of the lingerie drawers and
retrieve the set in mind. It’s new and a little darker than
my usual style, edgier if you will.
Black.
Leather.
See where I’m going with this?
I grin just thinking about his reaction.
Two minutes later, I’m breaching the threshold of his
room. He’s nowhere to be found, but his instruments of
choice already lay on the bed, taunting me with a preview
of my fate; two sets of handcuffs, the magic wand, a
vibrating cock ring, one of the bigger, girthier silicone
pieces in our growing collection, and lube. He’s even got
his camera set up on the nightstand, which I’m assuming is
already recording given the blinking red light.
This is gonna be—
Grayson chooses that moment to saunter out of the en
suite bathroom, gloriously naked, I should add. My throat
bobs through a preemptive swallow as a wicked smirk
tickles his full lips, appreciative stare tracking the lines of
my figure. “You look…”
“Ready to bring you to your knees? Yeah, I know,” I quip,
to which he shakes his head.
The jerk of his cock tells me he’s not fully against the
idea, though. “Give me a twirl. Let me see the back.”
Spinning on my toes, my ass now in prime view, I throw
him a salacious glance from over my shoulder and wiggle
said ass teasingly.
His cock jolts again, hard enough that he grabs it with a
firm hand and strokes it. “Are you a mind reader?”
A mind reader? “I like to think I am, but no. Why?”
“‘Cause those metal hoops in your garter straps are
going to be quite useful tonight,” he chuckles darkly. “Get
your sexy little ass on the bed.”
Don’t do it, Lyric. You’re in deep enough shit. Do not—
 “Make. Me,” I toss back, fueled by anticipation and too
much whiskey.
Grayson’s eyes flash at my challenge, nostrils flaring in
that way that reiterates just how in for it I am tonight. The
second he starts for me, my heart rate shoots through the
roof in anticipation. My pussy throbs, too, every meticulous
step matching the pulsing beat.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
When nothing but millimeters separate us, the heat of
his gaze working my throat through another swallow.
“What was that, little girl?”
“I said”—I inch up on the tips of my toes and bring my
lips to his ear—“Make. Me. Daddy.”
A mere blink and his hand wraps around said throat,
applying just the right amount of pressure that leaves me
smiling victoriously as he backs me into the bed. “I can’t
wait to hear you scream,” he growls against my skin.
Two seconds later, my back hits the mattress. Pinned
beneath his weight, he slips his frame effortlessly between
my legs. “The safe words, Princess. Repeat them to me.”
So we’re going there tonight? Lord, help me.
“Reaching and maximum,” I recite, earning me one of
those deep-seated, delicious hums of approval that go
straight to my clit.
“Good girl,” he coos, grip easing as he leans back onto
his knees and reclaims both sets of handcuffs off the bed.
I watch him in fascination, a soft whimper bubbling in
my throat. Not in fear, but in excitement, my nipples
pebbling against my bra. I’m no stranger to these shiny
babies; the glorious sting when I yank too hard is
unmatched. One end of each clicks around my wrists, the
heavy, cold steel biting into my flesh, but it’s not until he
threads the other ends through the metal hoops at the back
straps of my garter belt that I realize just how fucked I
really am.

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 ♫ Chills (Dark Version) - Mickey Valen & Joey Myron ♫

THE MOMENT REALIZATION flashes across her face, I’m

instantly harder than a fucking rock.
Yeah, baby, it’s one of those nights.
Bound and completely at my mercy, she’s about to learn
what lines she can cross and what lines should remain
uncharted—like goading me about sharing her with another
man. I don’t know in what universe she thought that would
be permissible, let alone something I would even consider
entertaining, but here we are.
Without warning, I fist the front of her panties and rip
them off her body, tossing them somewhere behind me.
Those gorgeous ocean eyes widen, more still when I reach
for the cock ring laid out beside us and roll it in place.
“I want you to remember all the things you said and did
today that led you to this moment…” My arms curl beneath
her thighs, yanking her closer. “That uncalled for little
attitude of yours, the sassing, your inability to follow simple
directions, those blood-boiling eye rolls, gloating about
letting another man fuck you,” I grunt, thrusting inside her
tight cunt in one fluid movement.
Typically, I’d work her up to this; stretch her out with my
fingers, devour her with my mouth—but she was already
wet for me.
Or perhaps still wet after our encounter in my office
before we left for the gala.
Either way, her eyes shut in bliss as I hit the deepest
part of her, a soft moan tumbling off her lips.
“Did you really think I’d ever go for that, Lyric?” I
question, turning on the vibrating bullet attached to the
ring, the rounded head now stimulating her clit.
Another moan follows around a “Maybe”, and the way
that one little word raises my hackles all the more is
unreal.
“Are you sure about that?” I thrust into her again,
harder this time, holding her against me as I fully embed
her.
“No? I don’t know…”
“You do know.” A third brutal thrust. “You know it damn
well, too, when you’re the one always saying this pussy is
whose?”
“Yours.”
“Whose?” I stress, easing out to the tip before plowing
right back in to the hilt. “I couldn’t hear you.”
“Yours, this pussy’s yours,” she mewls, back arching off
the bed.
“Louder, Lyric. Whose”—thrust—“Pussy”—thrust—“Is”—
thrust—“This?” Each word comes grit through my teeth,
the sound of our skin slapping an enticing echo that only
fuels me onward.
“Yours! It’s fucking yours, Daddy! All yours!” she cries
out as I take hold of the magic wand with a quick hand and
add it to the mix, laying it at the hood of her clit. “Holy
fuck…”
Yeah, holy fuck is right. She’s got double the stimulation
to that sensitive little bud. With my cock deep inside her,
let’s see how many times she can fall apart for me before
she taps…
Doesn’t take long for that first wave to consume her.
Between the vibrations and my steady yet punishing
strokes, she’s flying over the edge in seconds flat, cuffs
digging into her wrists as she tries spreading her arms out
to claw at the sheets. “I’m coming! I’m fucking coming!”
“And you’re gonna keep coming,” I grate, willing back
my own orgasm as her cunt quivers around me, sucking me
in deeper. “Over and over and over again. Better brace for
impact, baby. We’re gonna be here a while.”
And as promised, the first wave swiftly rolls into the
second.
The second into the third.
The third into the fourth.
It’s a damn good thing neither Nancy nor Baxter live on
the premises because the cries of pure ecstasy blasting free
from her throat could undoubtedly be heard through the
entire house right now.
Lyric’s chest heaves from the endless tremors wreaking
havoc through her body, her skin shining with a sheen of
sweat beneath the dim lighting of the room. “Fuck, fuck,
fuck! Oooh! Again—I’m gonna come again!”
“That’s right. That’s a good girl. Give it to me, fucking
give it to me. Scream for me,” I demand, pressing the
vibrator harder against her clit, beads of sweat rolling
down my temples.
 A mere breath and she’s detonating violently all over
again, only this time, she squirts, the evidence seeping out
of her, dripping down my balls. I pull out with a quickness,
eager to see it, hissing appreciatively as she drenches both
me and the sheets beneath us. A wicked grin stretches my
lips as I kill the vibe on the cock ring, toss the wand aside,
and lay between her legs, fingers spreading her wide.
“Such a messy princess. Looks like Daddy needs to clean yo
—”
“I can’t anymore,” she pants, eyes squeezed tightly, the
cuff links clanking as she yanks against them. “I can’t come
anymore.”
“Yes, you can. One more, baby. Give me one more.” An
even six, I’ll take it. No, I need it, fiendishly devouring her
pussy in an effort to shoot her over the edge one last time.
She wanted to come, right?
Lyric squirms under my ministrations, mewling and
moaning, her petite frame quaking in my hold as I suck on
her clit. “Unlock the cuffs, Daddy.”
I shake my head. “No way in hell.”
“Unlock them, please! I wanna touch you!”
“I said no, Lyric.”
“Don’t make me do this,” she warns, but I’m so far gone
in the moment, almost manic in my quest to hear her
scream for me again that it goes right over my head.
Until I’m crooking my fingers against that spot, seconds
away from unleashing another flood, when the word meets
my ears….
“Reaching!”
I could keep going; she’s only approaching her limit. But
something about how the word left her mouth has me
falling still. And when I glance up at her, I find her already
regarding me with the most pleading look in those pretty
blue eyes.
“Please, Daddy…” Lyric whispers. “Take the cuffs off. I
wanna feel you.”
 Fucking hell, I can’t deny her. Not when she looks at me
like that.
All but flying off the bed, I retrieve the keys from the
nightstand and swiftly release her from her bindings. No
sooner do the cuffs fall from her wrists before she’s
winding both her arms and legs around me, fusing our
mouths together in a heated kiss.
“You made your point,” she mumbles, lashing her tongue
out against mine. “Message received.”
“Mmm, I’m not so sure about that,” I chuckle, kissing
her back with equal fervor. “That’s okay, though. Your
bindings may be gone, but I’m not done with you just yet.”
I’ve got one more thing up my sleeve; the icing on the
cake to drive my point home.
Breaking away from her mouth, I work my way down her
body, stamping feather light kisses down her neck, her
chest. Until now, her breasts remained sheathed by the
sable lace bra. I free them with a yank of the fabric and
give them equal attention, rolling a rigid peak between my
fingers as my mouth works the other. Her little hums of
approval fuel me onward, rallying my tongue to life all over
again.
Down her midsection.
Her mound.
The hood of her clit.
If it wasn’t for her hips bucking off the bed, reminding
me she’s still somewhat sensitive, I would’ve buried my
face in her pussy all over again.
I roll her over with a brisk hand instead, giving that pert
little ass a good slap. “On your knees, baby. Put that ass up
for me.”
Lyric does as I’ve asked, peering at me from over her
shoulder as I reach for the silicone piece and bottle of lube
that’ve nearly rolled off the end of the bed at this point. Her
eyes widen slightly, that much I can tell through my
peripheral, but she doesn’t make a sound.
 Not even when I pop the cap on the bottle and lube up
the dildo, or when I drizzle some over her little hole and
rub it in, working my thumb inside. She tenses, back
curving upward from the sudden intrusion, but it doesn’t
last long. My little princess is no stranger to anal. We’ve
indulged on more than one occasion. Once she relaxes, I
start up the cock ring again, aligning the head of my cock
and the dildo at each entrance proffered for me.
Here we go…
One. Swift. Motion. That’s it. Just one, and I’m filling
her, earning me a litany of expletives as she claws at the
sheets for purchase.
Purchase I’m, unfortunately, not allowing her.
The moment I’m fully embedded, I thread a hand in her
hair and yank her back toward me, curling an arm around
her middle.
“Full, too full,” she whines, eyes clamping shut as my
hand locks around her throat.
“This is what you wanted, though, right? How was it you
said it? A Daddy and Cash sandwich?” I grit in her ear,
thrusting into her slowly.
“It was a joke! I was just trying to rile you up after you
left me wet and wanting!”
“Didn’t sound like a joke to me.” Not in the fucking
slightest. Just remembering that little smirk behind the rim
of her glass has me picking up speed, reveling in the sound
of our skin slapping all over again.
“It was, I swear!” Her head falls back against my
shoulder as she says this, stare locking on my mine like a
vise.
I tighten my grip on her throat, driving both my cock
and the silicone piece in and out of her. “Last time you joke
about something like that. Am I clear?”
She nods, teeth sinking into her bottom lip.
“You’re mine, Lyric, and I don’t mean just your pussy. I
mean you, period.” I can’t take it anymore, can’t have it any
other way. First Leland, now this? Yeah, no, she’s mine.
And she nods in understanding. “Yours, all yours.”
“Whose?”—thrust—“Say it louder.”
“Yours, Daddy! All fucking yours!”
The words set me off without warning, head lolling back
as my orgasm consumes me from one moment to the next.
“Fuckkk,” I growl, spilling a jet of hot cum deep inside her,
the arm around her waist holding her still as I come for
what feels like a goddamn century.
We collapse in a heap seconds later; panting, exhausted,
sated. I lift enough of my weight to pull the silicone piece
free and roll the cock ring off, tossing them somewhere on
the bed beside us. And the trickle of come that seeps out of
her pussy? I push it right back in with my fingers before
dropping on top of her again.
“Message abundantly received,” she reiterates, angling
her neck as I stamp featherlight kisses along the slope.
“Daddy doesn’t share.”
“Not even a little bit,” I concede with a smirk, nuzzling
into her warmth. “I’m a selfish bastard, baby, especially
when it comes to you.”

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 ♫ Electric Love - BØRNS ♫

WHEN I CRACK my eyelids open the following morning and

roll over, I’m greeted by cold sheets rather than the soft,
warm skin I was expecting. My head snaps up off the pillow
in confusion. Last I remember, Lyric was curled up on my
chest before I drifted off, and when I got up to take a piss
around 6:30, she was still there.
So where is she?
With a monstrous yawn, I stretch out my limbs and rub
the sleep from my eyes as I drag myself out of bed. Takes
me no more than five minutes to wash my face and brush
my teeth before I’m padding through the house in search of
her. I start with her bedroom, but it’s empty. So is her
bathroom. Once I start down the stairs, though, I smell it.
Coffee.
Bacon.
Waffles or pancakes, or is that French toast?
My lips spread in a grin. The little minx got up to make
us breakfast—something her mother would never do,
because God forbid Nicolette Leclaire do something so
mundane herself. I roll my eyes at the thought, mentally
cursing myself for being stupid enough to exchange “I Dos”
with the woman. Only thing I’ve gained from this marriage,
aside from exposure for CloudNine, is love and affection
from the girl I shouldn’t want.
The one who’s currently dancing in front of the stove in
one of my t-shirts. Clearly, she’s got her earbuds in,
swaying side to side to whatever’s currently playing in her
ears. My cock immediately stirs as if he wasn’t balls deep
in her pussy hours ago, luring me toward her like a magnet
drawn to its pair.
Plucking an earbud free, my hands cinch around her
slim waist, face burying in the curve of her neck. She
smells heavenly; sweet and floral as always, but with a dash
of me and a hint of toe-curling sex. “Mmm. Good morning.”
Lyric makes an equally appreciative hum of her own,
melting into me as she flips over a slice of French toast and
quickly taps at her phone on the counter, pausing her
Spotify. “Afternoon, you mean.”
Afternoon? “What time is it?”
“Just past noon.”
“Is it really?” I pick my head up in a flash, gaze cutting
up to the clock on the microwave. 12:10. Well, shit. “Did
you just get up, too?”
“Pretty much.” Setting down the spatula, she spins in
my embrace and locks her arms around my neck. “I was
starving. Figured you probably would be too after all the
calories you burned last night.”
 “I regret nothing,” I grin, fusing our lips together.
“Never said you did. I said I figured you were hungry,”
she chuckles, bopping my nose. “There’s coffee waiting for
you. Just gotta finish up the French toast and the eggs.
Then we can eat.” Another quick peck to my lips and she
spins back toward the stove.
I watch her for a moment and how easily she moves
around the kitchen. Two pieces of freshly griddled French
toast come off the pan as quickly as she dips another set in
the mixture and lays them in place. Then she slides a hand
into the egg carton, fishes out a few, and cracks them into a
bowl. One-hand style. I’m in awe, honestly, never having
known or noticed she could cook through the years since
most of our meals have been takeout or something
prepared by Nicolette’s chef friend, Fabian Vega.
Wouldn’t be surprised if she fucked him a few times, too.
“Who taught you to cook?” I ask, leaning up against the
counter beside her, my arms crossed.
“Grandma.” She smiles fondly as she whisks the eggs.
“She loved the kitchen. Tried to get mom involved a few
times, but you know how she is. Eventually, she gave up,
and it was just us. I liked it better that way, anyway.”
“Relatable,” I scoff, earning me a perked brow.
“What do you mean?”
“I like it better when it’s just us, too.”
Lyric pauses then and glances over at me. A few silent
moments pass before she returns to the task at hand,
adding some butter in another pan. “Would it be too
forward of me to ask if it could ever be just us?”
“No, ‘cause it’s crossed my mind more than once,” I
admit, realizing this is the first time we’re daring to talk
about this.
“You’re mine” and “I’m yours” have been thrown around
quite a bit—like last night—but other than that we’ve just
been floating around in this uncertain state of what does
this really mean?
 Truth is, just us is more than just a frequent thought
these days. The longer this not-so-casual and unspokenly
serious behind-the-scenes thing goes on, the more often my
mind drifts to a life where I wasn’t bound to Nicolette and
our relationship was no longer hidden. But then I
remember that—
“Is that something you’d want?” she hedges, dropping
the raw scrambled eggs into the pan.
“In a perfect world, one free of repercussions or where
you’d be missing out on so much, yes actually, I—”
The bowl clinks against the marble countertop, halting
the words on the tip of my tongue. “What is that supposed
to mean?”
“What?”
“What would I supposedly be missing out on?”
Isn’t it obvious? “Children. A normal relationship.”
One of her brows arch all over again. She holds my stare
for just a beat longer before turning the burners on the
lowest setting and sidling up in front of me, guiding my
arms around her waist. “For one, I don’t want kids. And
two, define normal.”
Now it’s me who hoists a curious brow, hands slithering
down to palm her ass. “You don’t want kids?”
She shakes her head. “They’re cute and I like other
people’s kids, but I, personally, do not want that kind of
responsibility.”
You say that now… “You’re still young, baby. You might
change your mind somewhere down the—”
“I’m not gonna change my mind,” she insists. “I’ve never
wanted kids. Even my mom knows this, which obviously she
appreciates since the thought of being called grandma
absolutely repulses her.” At that, we share a laugh ‘cause
it’s nothing short of the truth. “If I was old enough by
medical standards to get a tubal ligation, I would. Now stop
averting and define this ‘normal’ you speak of.”
 “A normal relationship”—I shrug—“One with a man your
age who’s more your type. Not a man who’s twenty-plus
years your senior, who’s gonna be sixty with wrinkles and a
receding hairline while you’re in your forties.”
A dubious expression forms on her beautiful features as
she inches up on her toes and pecks my lips. “You are my
type. Tall, dark, handsome. Intelligent as all hell. Kind-
hearted yet stern and aggressive when need be. No one
compares, not by a long shot. It’s why you’re Daddy, why I
love you.”
She…what? I literally feel my eyes widen, heart
suddenly thrashing against my chest cavity. “You…what?”
Lyric nods slowly and presses our lips together all over
again. “I love you, Grayson. I’m so in love with you, it’s
honestly ridiculous, all things considering. I know we
promised no strings, but I feel like we’re way past that and
—”
I can’t even help the grin that spreads across my face,
hands squeezing her ass in warning. “Turn off the burners,
Lyric.”
“What? Why?” she questions, easing back to look me in
the eye.
“‘Cause I’m about to show you how ridiculously in love
with you I am, too.”

OceanofPDF.com
 ♫ Addiction - Doja Cat ♫

“YOU MIGHT AS WELL JUST BUY my Maid of Honor shirt

now,” Carlie quips through FaceTime a little over a week
later as she unpacks her bag.
She just got back from Colorado last night, which is why
I’m just getting around to telling her about the latest
development with Grayson. I’d told her I had news but
wanted to share once she was home and not occupied by
Dean.
Although by the sound of it, Dean will soon be a thing of
the past.
 “You’re an idiot.” I roll my eyes playfully, falling onto my
bed in nothing but a towel. “He said he loved me, not that
he wanted to marry me.”
“Same difference.” She shrugs, the messy auburn bun
on her head swaying with the motion. “I’m giving it six
more months before he pops the question. A year tops.”
“We can make another bet if you want ‘cause you’ll
definitely lose. He’s still really fucking married to my mom,
remember?”
“Divorce is on the horizon, trust me. If he told you he
loves you, he’s one-hundred percent thought about it.”
“Okay, but even if he does decide he wants to go through
with that, which he’s already told me he’s not looking to
deal with the absolute hell that’ll be, he’s not going to want
to be tied down again so quickly.”
Especially with his ex-wife’s daughter…
“He told you that almost a year ago. Look at how much
has changed since then. Besides, popping the question
doesn’t mean you have to get married five seconds after he
puts the ring on your finger. Long engagements are a thing,
ya know?”
She’s got a point, so much that I stupidly find myself
extending my left hand, imagining what a ring would look
like there.
“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” she chuckles,
drawing my eyes back on the screen to find her putting up
her suitcase in her closet.
“I mean, yeah, but if I was all over the tabloids for just
being out with Leland, can you imagine the headlines for—”
“Dude, pause,” my best friend sighs suddenly, pinching
the bridge of her nose. “Let me call you back, it’s my mom,
again, for like the fifty-millionth time today.”
“Okay, okay, bye,” I titter, and then the call ends.
I lay there for quite some time after the fact, just staring
up at the ceiling as the conversation replays in my head.
Has his mind wandered there? To marriage? Would he even
want to get remarried after going through a divorce? How
would something that serious even work for us? Him
divorcing my mom would get her out of the way, but not out
of our lives. Not mine anyway.
Regardless of the fact she’s been unfaithful, she’d likely
throw a—
My phone vibrates on the bed beside me, cutting my
ride on the mental merry-go-round short. I’m already
prepared to see Carlie bitching about her mom, but it’s not
her. It’s Grayson.

Daddy: Princess…

My lips spread in an enamored smile as I reply.

Me: Daddy…
Daddy: Are you at home?
Me: I am, yes. Just got out of the shower.
Daddy: Meet me in the office, please.
Me: When?
Daddy: Now.

He’s here? I hadn’t even heard him come in the house.

My insides cinch because oh, my God, what if he overheard
me and Carlie, and why does he wanna see me in his office?

Me: Is everything okay?

Daddy: Everything’s fine, baby. I wanna show you
something.

Insert me deflating like a balloon here, my lips

sputtering and all.
Me: I’ll be down in a second. Let me put some clothes on.
<3
Daddy: Bring your phone.

Tank top, jean shorts, a quick comb through my hair, and

a spritz of some Love Spell body mist—how retro of me, I
know—and I’m trotting down the stairs, stopping just
beneath the open door of his work space. “When did you
get home?” I ask, leaning up against the door jamb much in
the same way he always does, arms crossed under my
boobs.
Grayson flicks his gaze up from his phone, one corner of
his mouth tilting in that sexy smirk. “When I text you five
minutes ago.”
Thank fuck. He didn’t hear shit then. “How was your
day?”
“Pretty damn good actually. Yours?”
“Better now that you’re home.”
“Better?” He quirks a brow. “What happened?”
“Nothing. Just uneventful and boring.”
“Well, I’ve got some entertainment for tonight right
here. Come”—he pats his thigh—“You brought your phone,
right?”
As I stride into the room and around his desk, I pull my
phone free from the back pocket of my jean shorts and
wiggle it for him to see. “Sure did.”
“Perfect.” He quickly taps away at his just as I’m curling
up on his lap. “Click on that.”
My screen illuminates with a new text notification.
Tapping on it opens up our thread, revealing nothing more
than a link in his latest bubble. No preview image, nothing.
I steal a glance at him from the corner of my eye, perking a
curious eyebrow, and click on it as instructed. It pulls up a
basic landing page with what looks like an app download
called Obey.
 “What is this?” I question.
Grayson drapes an arm around my hips and gives my
thigh a little squeeze. “A new app and integration for
CloudNine. Alvin’s been working on it for almost a year.
This is the beta model he presented me with today. I told
him I’d test it out for a few weeks and let him know what I
think.”
Color me intrigued. “What does it do?”
“Essentially it’s a habit tracker for dynamic-focused
relationships. The link I sent you is an invitation. Once you
download the app and create an account, it’ll link you to
me. I already input your rules, marked as either daily
habits or something required weekly. If you don’t check in
daily/weekly and mark it as completed, you earn
punishment points.”
A delighted shiver tolls down my spine. This man could
punish me all day every day if he wanted to. I’d gladly let
him. “And if I do complete them?” I probe.
“Then you earn reward points,” he grins.
I do, too, but my brain suddenly clicks back to what he
said, how this is a test run for the app and not something
that’s already established by some rando developer who
has no knowledge of who Grayson Kane is. “You think it’s a
good idea to test it out together, though? Wouldn’t Alvin be
able to see all our account information?”
“It’s possible,” he hitches a shoulder, “but I’m sure he’d
just assume it’s your mom. I’m not worried about it.”
I cringe, like visibly cringe, and he laughs, reassuring
me that his tech guy finding out about us isn’t even a
thought in his mind.
“If you’re not concerned, then I’m in. What kind of
rewards are we talking about?” ‘Cause I’m liking the sound
of it and my mind’s already running wild with the
possibilities.
Grayson waggles his eyebrows, sealing a hand around
my jaw and reeling me in. “Anything your bratty little
princess heart desires.” Our lips brush ever so softly.
“Could be Daddy giving you a massage, a new purse, a new
toy. Literally anything.”
“How do the points work?”
“Each habit has a certain number of reward and
punishment points. When completed weekly, that amount of
points is dropped in your rewards total. Same for
incomplete. We can discuss rewards and punishments
together; what they should be, how many points to ‘buy’
certain rewards, how many points for punishments,
etcetera, etcetera,” he proposes.
Okay, I like this. I really, really like this. “How about I
pick rewards and you pick punishments?”
His head cocks to one side at my suggestion, palm
smoothing up my cheek, his thumb running across my
bottom lip. “Is that what you want? Don’t you want to
discuss severity of punishments and all that?”
I shake my head, leaning into his touch. “You know my
limits. I trust you one-hundred percent.”
That megawatt, panty-melting smile slowly creeps
across his face as he erases the minuscule amount of space
between us and joins our lips. He kisses me for a good
minute or two, languidly but no less passionate than those
frenzied kisses when he’s buried deep inside me.
“How’d I get so lucky?” he murmurs, nuzzling the tip of
his nose against mine.
Don’t mind me, just melting over here.
I nuzzle him back, tossing my phone onto the desk and
shifting in his lap to straddle him. “You finally caved to my
advances.”
Grayson hums and pivots the chair to lose his phone too,
his fingertips starting up the backs of my legs.
Over my ass.
Stealing beneath the hem of my top and up my back as
he lunges hungrily for my mouth again, sucking the air
right out of me. The pace still borders steady and
unhurried, but my fingers dig into the ebony leather around
his head for purchase, my hips rolling into him of their own
free will.
“God, I love you,” all breathy and strangled blasts
against my lips, and I actually moan, instinctively claiming
his face as the corners of my mouth quirk in elation.
“I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearing you say those
words to me,” I whisper, painting another grin on his lips.
“Same, baby. Absolutely-fucking-same.” A squeeze to my
ass, a little slap. “Now go put in your rewards while I
change out of these clothes and work on your punishments.
We’ll share and discuss over dinner.”

OceanofPDF.com
 ♫ Earned It - The Weeknd ♫

Rewards:
• New lingerie - 10 points
• New toy - 25 points
• 1hr massage from Daddy - 50 points
• Date night, out of the house - 150 points
• Weekend getaway - 750 points
• Princess Brat Switch Day - 1,500 points

Punishments:
• Spanking - with or without use of instruments like
flogger/crop/paddle etc
• App controlled toy for a day
• Bound at Daddy’s mercy
• A week of edging, no orgasms - absolutely no
masturbating allowed
• Zero sexual contact for as long as Daddy deems fit based
on severity of disobedience - absolutely no masturbating
allowed

POTS AND PANS clatter behind me as Nancy works on

unloading the dishwasher, which, according to her when I
walked in five minutes ago, is her last task of the day after
getting a late start. Leaned up against the island, I tap
through the Obey app, taking inventory of Lyric’s points for
the last two weeks since we started testing it for Alvin.
She’s keeping up with it better than I thought she would,
honestly. That’s not to say she hasn’t added to her
punishment tally, but she’s racked up far more reward
points thus far. And the fact that she hasn’t spent any of
them yet tells me she’s planning to use it for date night, a
weekend getaway, or switch day.
I’m more concerned about date night than the others.
My gaze flicks up to where she sits on the couch, the TV
playing some vampire show on Netflix she’s watched one
too many times. A weekend getaway would be nice, and I’d
love to see what she’d do with a whole day of full control.
But date night, out of the house? Makes me uneasy. We’re
not ordinary people who can travel the streets undetected
while they hold hands or share a kiss. Being in the spotlight
comes with whispers and prying eyes, and not just from the
paparazzi. It’s hard enough for Lyric and I to keep our
hands off each other inside the house. How the hell are we
to manage it on a date? The smallest hint that we’re
together, in ways that exceed a normal step-
father/daughter relationship, and the uproar of
speculations will spread like wildfire.
Princess: What do you wanna do tonight?

A smirk tickles my lips as her text notification drops

down at the top of my screen. I steal a peek over my
shoulder at Nancy, who’s still buzzing around the kitchen,
before opening our thread and typing out a quick reply.

Me: Whatever you want. Movie night? I think we still have

popcorn.
Princess: Meh… We did movie night already this week.
Me: Whatever you want then. Nancy should be leaving
soon.
Princess: *WHATEVER* I want? **eyeball emoji**

She shifts on the couch, eyeing me curiously, and as I

hold her stare, smirk deepening, my thumbs tap away at
the keyboard.

Me: Yes, baby. Whatever you want.

Both brows quirk, nearly meeting her hairline in a

pleasantly surprised, impressed fashion. Ever so quietly,
she drapes her arms over the back of the couch and drums
at her screen. I’m expecting another reply with some
salacious demand when an Obey notification appears at the
top of my screen. She used some of her points.
And as predicted, she used them for date night.

Princess: Pick a spot. I don’t care what we do or where we

go as long as it’s with you. I’m gonna go shower and get
ready.

She’s off the couch in a flurry, leaving me with my teeth

grinding and my stomach in knots. Shit. I know she
understands what a risk this is; we talked about it when
she first set up rewards and points. She’s fully aware of
how things need to be and what appearances we need to up
keep should we venture out in public together. But she
wanted it anyway, said spending time with me even under
the guise of a step-father and step-daughter enjoying a
night out was better than nothing. And I get why—we’re
always cooped up in the house, our relationship hidden in
the shadows and contained to these walls. The last time we
went anywhere was that charity gala for Ukraine a few
weeks back, and I nearly lost my entire shit with the way
eyes fell on her in that dress.
It’s gonna be fine, relax. You play your expected roles
around Nicolette all the time. You can do it in public, too.
It’ll make her happy.
It will make her happy…and as her daddy, the man who
loves her, making her happy is not only my job.
It’s all I want.

“YOU’RE REALLY NOT GONNA TELL me where we’re going?”

Lyric whines—for the third time since we left the house.
Lifting her hand to my mouth, I playfully nip at her soft
skin and set a lingering kiss there. “I’m really not.” She
pouts and I flash her my best grin before returning my
attention to the road as we ease out of the Beverly Hills
limits onto Santa Monica Boulevard. “You don’t like
surprises, Princess?”
“I do, but also no. I wanna know!”
“Well, you’re just gonna have to wait and see. Few more
minutes and all will be revealed.”
 “A few more minutes? That means we’re almost there!
C’mon, Daddy, pleaseee. Just tell meee,” she begs.
“Nope.” I shake my head. “You can wait.”
Lyric squeezes my hand in pleading, but still I don’t
cave, my grin firmly intact.
“You suck.” She sucks her teeth and all, falling back into
the passenger seat with a huff.
“I do—lots of things on that delicious little body of
yours.”
Her lips quiver with a smirk as she peers at me from the
corner of those blue eyes. “That’s not what I meant.”
“I know. That’s what I meant, though,” I quip, and the
waggle of my eyebrows sends her eyes for one of their
customary spins. I’m surprised they haven’t gotten stuck
like that yet.
“You’re insatiable,” she chuckles.
“Your fault,” I toss back.
“Liar, liar, pants on fire. Your freak flag was high in the
sky before me.”
“True, but you made it worse. Rosy Palm and Felicia
Fleshlight were the most action I was getting prior to your
‘accidental’ nude.”
“Felicia Fleshlight?” This time she all but cackles, her
giggles carrying over the music playing softly on the radio
as I bring the Bugatti to a stop at a red light. “Why
Felicia?”
My shoulders bounce. “I don’t know. Could be any F
name I suppose; Francesca, Faye, Fatima, Faith, Fiona,
Fallon, Farah, Freya.”
“Should’ve named her Lyric,” she jests.
“Oh, hell no,” I chide, hitting the gas when the light flips
to green and cutting a quick right into the parking garage.
“That silicone sleeve feels nothing like your pussy, baby.
Let’s not give it such an honor.”
“Maybe I’ll have a custom one made for your birthday.
Then you can get rid of Felicia,” she muses.
 Clearly, she’s not fond of Felicia.
My chest rumbles with amusement as I drop my window
and hit the button on the ticket machine. Out comes the
little stub, I take it, and we’re in, the engine roaring louder
within the confines of the garage as I search for a spot.
“Can’t I just have you for my birthday like I did this past
year?”
Best fucking birthday present ever, honestly. Hadn’t
expected shit for my forty-fifth. Got to unwrap her like a
gift and fuck her in the pool house after Nicolette went to
sleep.
“Well, duh, Daddy, but I mean for those nights mom’s in
the way and you need some relief. It’ll feel like me even
though it’s not.”
I like the sound of that, maybe a little too much.
Sneaking a few minutes together isn’t always possible…
Sliding into a spot, I throw the car in park and drape an
arm between our seats. “I wouldn’t say no, Princess.
Anything that sounds, feels, smells, or tastes like you is
always welcome.”
“Same, just FYI. Kinda feel like I may use some of my
points for a clone-a-willy kit. A clone of your cock for those
late night urges sounds like heaven.”
“Late night urges, huh?” My head cocks to one side.
“How often do you have these?”
She knows exactly what I’m getting at, where’s my
evidence, her lips spreading in what reads as a guilty grin.
“Not too often, thankfully. Worst kinda way to be pulled
from sleep.”
So, they’re those kinds of urges…
I regard her for just a moment, gaze raking over every
inch of her from the loose curls of her hair to the light-wash
denim hugging her legs. They’re ripped at the knees,
complimenting the leather jacket she threw on over a black
strapless top. My favorite part is the thin ebony choker
around her neck…
 Crooking a finger, I beckon her closer. She obliges
without so much as a blink, leaning in toward the center
console. When only inches separate us, I slip that very
same digit underneath said choker and tug her into my
breathing space. “Who stars in your wet dreams, Lyric?”
“You,” she whispers, cinching her little fingers around
my wrist. “Always you.”
My inner cocky bastard puffs up his chest and beams a
smile at her. “So needy, baby. Even in your sleep.”
“Your fault,” she counters, mirroring my exact same
words from just five minutes ago. “I want you all the time.”
This girl was made for me, I swear to God.
Offering a satisfied hum, I quickly peck her lips and give
another tug to the choker. “I like this. Reminds me of a
collar.”
“If it was a collar”—kiss—“I’d never take it off.”
“Don’t give me ideas, Princess.”
Lyric titters softly, a small scoff escaping through her
nose as I release her. “I’m just saying. I’d wear anything
that tells the world I’m yours. Now…” she pauses, ejecting
her seat belt. “Since we’re parked, can you tell me where
we’re going?”
“This again?” I laugh. “You really won’t let me just show
you?”
She shakes her head adamantly. “Spill the beans, Daddy.
I’m on pins and needles here.”
“Ugh, fine.” Freeing my phone from my pocket, I pull up
the tickets and tilt the screen toward her. “How does the
Van Gogh exhibit sound?”
My answer comes in the form of a squeal and her body
pinning me to the seat as she coerces me into making out
for a good five minutes before we finally head inside.
SEEING the wonder in her eyes, how she takes in every bit
of the Starry Night painting around us is exactly what I was
hoping for. Happiness radiates off her waves, wrapping
themselves around me in a warm, comforting embrace. I
want nothing more than to hold her hand as we venture
deeper into the exhibit, to take that beautiful face in my
hands and kiss her senseless. It’s dark enough I might be
able to at some point, but for right now, this—seeing and
experiencing her joy—is enough.
No… It’s everything.
And I’d do it all over again if I had to.

OceanofPDF.com
 ♫ needy - Ariana Grande ♫

IT’S BEEN ABOUT six weeks since my mom left and, at this
point, she could run away with David and never come back
for all I care. Yeah, I love her—she’s my mom after all—but
she’s nothing more than an inconvenience, a huge
roadblock standing between me and complete happiness.
After Grayson admitted to being in love with me, there’s
not a single doubt in my mind that I’ll do whatever it takes
to be with him. If I allow myself to daydream long enough, I
can see a whole life with him, and I want it as badly as I
want him.
 And I feel pretty damn confident saying I think he wants
it, too.
We’ve still got another six weeks til she comes back,
though, so for now, we’re just enjoying each other’s
company—uninterrupted and without restrictions—while
we still can.
Pulling a bag of freshly popped popcorn from the
microwave, I pour it into a bowl, grab two cans of Pepsi
from the fridge, and make my way to the theater room
where Grayson’s getting tonight’s movie set up.
What he’s not expecting is I’ve deemed it naked movie
night.
He’s already splayed out on the oversize couch when I
waltz in with snacks in hand—sans pajamas.
Those green eyes bulge momentarily as he watches me
approach. “Did you nuke your PJs while you were in the
kitchen?”
“No, but it looks like you missed the memo.” Setting the
snacks beside him, I situate myself between his legs,
pressing my back to his chest. “It’s naked movie night.”
Grayson chuckles, a sound I both hear and feel rumble
against me. “And where was this memo sent?”
“Doesn’t matter,” I quip, bopping his nose. “The point is
you’re overdressed. Strip.”
“What was that?” He clicks a button on the remote and
drapes the blanket over me. “Can’t hear you. Movie’s
starting.”
“How is that fair? I’m butt ass naked! I want you naked,
too!”
Another chuckle ensues as he rolls his eyes and makes
quick work of losing his t-shirt. “There. Better?”
“Not really.” I pout, entirely unimpressed. “I said naked,
not shirtless. But it’ll do…for now.”
For now being a whole twenty minutes into the movie.
I’m mid-way of popping another handful of popcorn into my
mouth when I feel Grayson’s capable hands wandering.
They claim my boobs, squeezing and massaging each globe
before rolling my nipples into peaks. I nearly choke on a
kernel as the sensation zips straight to my pussy, my head
lolling back on his shoulder.
“Eyes on the movie,” he whispers in my ear, nipping at
the shell.
“How on earth do you expect me to give a damn about
Patrick Swayze when you’re doing that?”
“Your own fault for sitting here naked.”
“You were supposed to be, too. Remember?”
“And yet the memo was not received, thus rendering you
the only deliciously naked body in this room, which just so
happens to be my favorite. So sit back, enjoy your snacks,
and watch the movie while I enjoy my snack.”
The onslaught continues, alternating between greedy
handfuls and tweaks of my nipples that bring me almost to
climax. It’s not until I shudder against him, bracing for
impact that his palms slither down my abdomen, meeting
the tops of my thighs.
“Spread your legs, Lyric,” he demands.
Already breathless, I do as I’m told, opening enough to
grant him access.
It’s not enough, though. “Wider.” His teeth sink into my
neck. “Wider.” Another bite as the pads of his fingers slide
right through my pussy lips. “There we go… Mmm, so wet
already.”
Always, I think to myself. I’m always wet for him. He
doesn’t have to do anything except be in my near vicinity
and I’m dripping, eager to feel his hands on me, to feel his
cock stretching me.
Claiming me.
Owning me.
Those same digits plunge inside me, shooting forth a
blissful sigh from deep in my throat. His strokes aren’t
frenzied in any way, lazy yet steady, teasing the absolute
fuck out of me.
 “Faster,” I urge him, spreading my legs wider, earning
me a husky chuckle.
“Just focus on the movie, baby. Daddy knows what you
need, when you need it, how you need it.”
He’s not lying. There’s not a man in the world who’s
been able to satisfy me the way he does. I don’t know if it’s
the years of experience or he’s simply that in tune with me,
with my body, but there’s literally no comparison.
“Goddamn, you’re getting creamy,” he rasps, pulling out
long enough to taunt my clit a few rounds before driving
right back in. And just as quickly, he’s bringing those
fingers up to my mouth, skimming them along my bottom
lip. “Taste yourself for me.”
God, I love when he does this shit, locking my lips
around them without hesitation. My essence instantly
blasts over my tastebuds, luring an appreciative hum free,
eyes falling shut in bliss.
“Tastes good, doesn’t it?” he hedges.
“Yeah, but I bet you taste even better.”
Not two seconds later, I’m tossing the popcorn bowl to
the other side of the couch, kernels flying free in all
directions as I flip onto my knees between his legs.
Grayson’s brow quirks at my sudden outburst. “Lyric,”
he says in that warning tone.
“Daddy,” I counter. “Pants off, let’s go.”
“I said watch the movie,” he tries again, but I merely
shake my head, unwilling to back down.
“And I said pants off.”
Even in the dark, I can see the amused gleam in those
leafy greens, a clear sign I’ve won this round. “You’re
treading a thin line, baby girl.”
“Worth it.” I shrug, licking my lips in anticipation as my
eyes drop to the growing tent in his sweatpants.
“You want Daddy’s cock in your mouth, Lyric?” The deep
as fuck baritone of his voice shoots my gaze back up to his
face with a nod. And when he crooks a beckoning finger at
me, I crawl over him eagerly. “Then you better be a good
girl and take all of it, you hear me? Every last inch.”
“Every last one,” I hum.
The very moment he pulls his cock free, I get to work,
wrapping my hand around the thick base as my tongue
flicks out against the tip. His hiss of approval spurs me on,
sealing my mouth around the head, his fingers threading
into my hair. The lower I go, the more he tightens his grip,
coaxing me further and further down his length.
“That’s it, just like that,” he praises. I glance up in time
to watch his throat bob as he drops his head back. “Just
like that, baby. That’s a good fucking girl.”
If you’d told fifteen-year-old virgin me I’d have a praise
kink as an adult, I never would’ve believed you. But holy
fuck, the way that phrase—good girl—affects me is unreal.
My clit is throbbing right now.
More still when his cock hits the back of my throat and
he jerks against me, blurting a litany of quiet expletives I
can’t make out over the movie. Only makes me more intent
to double my efforts and fling him over the edge before he
even sees it coming.
Relaxing my throat all the more, I withdraw to the tip
and swallow him whole, sliding a hand beneath the fabric
of his sweats to fondle his balls. They clench in my grip,
drawing another husky moan off his lips.
“Shit, shit, shit. I’m gonna…. Ughhh, fuck. I’m gonna
come.”
I repeat the same motion, swiveling my tongue along the
underside on my descent and in sheer seconds, he’s
exploding, tugging the roots of my hair in a death grip.
Spurt after spurt, his hot cum shoots down my throat as I
suck him dry, and the sounds he’s making for me only
ensure I’ll be jumping his bones the second my mouth
comes off him.
With a relieved sigh, he falls lax into the couch, staring
down at me adoringly as I pop off and lick my lips clean,
crawling my way into his lap. “Someone looks sated.”
Grayson nods, palms smoothing around my hips to my
ass.
“And you wanted me to keep watching the movie,” I
quip. “Bet you’re glad your little brat likes to tread the line
sometimes, huh?”
“Something like that,” he grins. “But now it’s my turn.
Quit sassing Daddy and feed him your pussy. ”
Don’t have to ask me twice.

OceanofPDF.com
 ♫ Alone With You - Ashlee ♫

I’M EATING my words right now.

Why?
Because movie night was the last time I got to come…
and that was three days ago.
I treaded the line too far and got into trouble. Big
trouble. Woke up feeling on edge and extra bratty, pushed
Grayson’s buttons a little too much throughout the day, and
when he got home, seeking solace in my body, I had friends
over. Not a party, just a small gathering Carlie put together
to distract me from my upcoming interview with Cosmo.
Twenty people at the most.
 The problem was Leland’s attendance.
No, my best friend did not invite him. She’s damn well
aware he’s off-limits for everything. Ryan Masters,
however, did. I wanted to kill him, so much that Carlie
volunteered to kick both out, but that empathetic side of
me couldn’t let her do it. Ryan’s invitation wasn’t with
malicious intent and Leland means no harm to my
relationship with Grayson.
But of course, Gray doesn’t see it that way, and when he
got home and saw the kid sitting next to me at the table,
his arm draped over the back of my chair after I promised
him no more Leland, he made himself scarce and went
radio silent. By the time everyone left around 10pm, I knew
I was in for some sort of punishment. Figured that after I
explained this wasn’t my doing he’d understand.
But he was too mad to do any of that, and when he
touched me, I was wet.
Wetter than I should be.
Guess the first place his mind went…
“You fucked him, didn’t you?” he seethes, backing away
from me like I just ripped his heart out with my bare bands.
The betrayal in his eyes kills me.
“What? No! Grayson, no! I’d never do that to you!” I try
reaching out for him, but he steps back again, lifting his
hands in disgust. My stomach revolts at his reaction and
suddenly it feels like my heart’s shot up to my throat,
choking me out. “Daddy, please listen to me. I beg you. I’m
not my mom. I would never, ever do that to you!”
“Then why are you wet, Lyric?” my name comes grit
through his teeth. “I know damn well whatever
conversations you were having out there didn’t do it.”
I can’t even fault him for thinking this way. My mother’s
infidelity has scarred him in ways he’ll never admit aloud,
and we’re in too deep for him not to care about something
like this. He told me he loved me. I’ve vowed the same. Yet
he comes home to find what he thinks is his biggest threat
sitting proudly beside me…
So I confessed.
I confessed to playing in the shower before Carlie took it
upon herself to call the whole impromptu lunch thingy. It
wasn’t intentional, completely second-nature. The stress
was eating me up, knowing Cosmo would more than likely
ask me about Leland after being strewn in the tabloid
together, and the next thing I knew, I had the shower head
in my hand. By the time I came down from the high and
realized what I’d done—three orgasms in—it was too late.
My story didn’t fly, though. Grayson wasn’t having it.
Even with me on my knees, begging him to listen, he wasn’t
having it. Between sassing him to hell and back—which he
did warn would one day get me into trouble—challenging
him left and right, not following directions, and then
finding Leland at the house, he was done, earning me one
of the heftier punishments on the list: a week of edging.
Let’s just say it’s been hell.
On day one, he spanked me, flogged me, took the paddle
to my ass…with no pussy play. That’s my favorite part of
Grayson’s spankings, how he’ll play with me, slide those
thick fingers inside me, drag my juices up to my clit while
he marks my ass with his stamp. I got none of that—except
a sore, ripe tomato red booty and a throbbing, aching cunt.
On day two, he used an app controlled toy. That little
thing is powerful as all hell, I’ll tell you that. I thought I’d
know when he was going to let it rip, but he caught me off-
guard each and every time. Duration depended on my
reaction. When I was too quiet, trying not to react, he’d
leave it on longer, pin me to the nearest surface and growl
dirty shit in my ear, or play with my nipples, his fingers
assaulting my clit. Anything to elicit a reaction. And once
the reactions came, he’d turn it off. The more sensitive I
became, the more staccato the rhythm became, too. On, off,
on, off, on, off. Bringing me right to the edge every single
time before letting me fall flat on my proverbial face, over
and over again.
It. Was. Torture—and I now hate that toy.
We’re on day three, and I can tell today is going to be no
better ‘cause I’m staring at a few bundles of sable rope…
and a Sybian, one of the dildo attachments already in place.
“Why are you still mad at me?” I whisper, staring at his
instruments of choice like they’re a death sentence. This is
gonna be rough. “I said I was sorry.”
“I’m not mad,” he answers, and what unnerves me the
most is how deathly quiet those words come out of his
mouth. “Not anymore. But you seem to be in need of a
reminder that there’s consequences for your actions, and
that’s partially my fault. I’m too lenient on you sometimes. I
let things slide ‘cause one look of those big blue eyes and
I’m a fucking goner. Let this week be a reminder of who
Daddy is and that there’s repercussions for bratting out.”
My mouth pops open to reply, but he cuts me off with a,
“Eh, eh, eh” as he closes the distance between us and
crushes me against him, a capable hand slipping between
my thighs, tapping them apart.
I have to physically swallow down the fragments of my
response as I follow his command and spread my legs,
inhaling a sharp breath as he teases me over my panties.
Stares locked a wise, I watch his expression darken, not
just with lust, but an intense need, too, and something else.
Something I can’t quite put my finger on, which unsettles
me more than I already am.
At this point, my biggest fear is that, deep down, he’s
still hurt, that he still thinks I cheated and me claiming a
party for one in the shower was a cover up. He’s said that’s
not the case during those much needed moments of after
care these last two days, but the fact that he’s still going
this hard on day three is… I don’t even know. I figured he’d
have caved by now, that two days in a row would be suff—
 You seem to be in need of a reminder that there’s
consequences for your actions, and that’s partially my fault.
I’m too lenient on you sometimes. I let things slide ‘cause
one look of those big blue eyes and I’m a fucking goner. Let
this week be a reminder of who Daddy is and that there’s
repercussions for bratting out.
His statement from moments ago sinks in, and I mean
really sinks in. He’s trying to prove a point, like he did the
night of the gala…
“You know I love you, right?” I murmur, unmoving,
letting him do what he needs to do.
Grayson nods just once, nearly sinking my heart to the
pit of my stomach, until he leans in and presses our lips
together. “I do. And I love you, too, but that’s not getting
you out of this.”
“Why?” I whisper against his mouth.
“Because you need to learn, Lyric. That’s what you both
needed and wanted from me, remember? Someone to guide
you, teach you. This is me upholding the honor you
bestowed upon me. You challenged me at every turn that
day, skipped meals because of stress. Stress you didn’t
bother to share with me when you could’ve checked-in and
said as much. Then you took it upon yourself to relieve said
stress—”
“I did mean to,” I whine softly. “It was second-nature.
When I rea—”
A quick hand slaps at my pussy. “What have I told you
about interrupting me?”
I mewl as the sting radiates through my limbs and bite
at my lip to shut the hell up.
“All day you sassed me,” he continues, “and not in the
cute way, but in the taunting, infuriating way. I asked you to
stop on multiple times, did I not?”
I nod. A mistake, obviously.
He slaps my cunt again and locks a hand around my
throat so fast I gasp. “Words. Let me hear them.”
 “Yes, yes you asked me to stop,” I answer.
“And you didn’t. You kept on. Didn’t abide by the rules.
Then I come home and find that little asshole here…and
you were wet.”
“From playtime, I swear! I’m not mom; I’d never—”
“I know, baby, I know.” His grip tightens as his other
hand joins the party, sealing around my neck, too, his
mouth ghosting over mine. “I know. And I’m sorry I jumped
to conclusions. It was wrong of me and I acknowledge that.
Can you blame me, though? We just talked about this not
too long ago. Deserving more than me with someone your
own age.”
“I don’t want someone my age. I want you, us.”
“Then this is how it has to be. You wanted Daddy to put
you in your place when necessary, so I am. Touch yourself.
Are you wet?”
Slipping a finger beneath the waistband of my panties, I
drag it through my lips and nod. “Soaking.”
“Then take your clothes off and have a seat,” he
commands.
“But I—”
“But nothing. Don’t make me tell you again.” He’s
entirely serious, too, backing away to retrieve the rope off
the bed.
I strip, accepting my fate but not at all prepared for
today’s brand of torture, and straddle the Sybian, dropping
to my knees.
“All the way,” his voice thunders, prompting me to take
hold of the silicone piece and align it at my entrance.
One push and I’m impaling myself, filling myself to the
hilt, biting back the moan that wants to break free as the
dildo stretches me out.
“There’s my good girl,” he praises, dropping to his
haunches beside me with a satisfied smirk in place.
He looks positively sinful today. Black dress shirt, every
button undone—exposing a light smattering of hair along
the hard lines of his chest—jeans, and bare feet. If the
current situation wasn’t what it is, I’d be jumping his
bones.
Said smirk spreads knowingly as he gets to work, deftly
wrapping and knotting the rope around one of my legs in a
Futomomo tie. He repeats the same process on the other
leg, ensuring there’s no way I’m getting off this machine
unless I push off with my hands.
An option it doesn’t look like I’ll have because he still
has another bundle of rope at his disposal as he rises to full
height and takes the few necessary steps to stand behind
me.
Fuck.
“Arms flat behind your back, Princess. Grab each one
with your hands,” he commands.
I obey dutifully and bring my arms horizontally behind
my back, the rise and fall of my chest coming faster now as
he secures the rope, not only around my forearms, but my
chest and upper arms, too. My only range of motion is
bowing forward.
This is going to be brutal.
A chair then appears in front of me. Grayson drops into
it and reclines, observing me for what feels like a century,
fingers rubbing against the salt and pepper scruff along his
sharp jaw. “You look so goddamn beautiful right now… All
trussed up with nowhere to go.”
I actually gulp, my voice long gone for once. He’s going
to wreck me, make me scream, and I can’t do anything but
take it. Even knowing I hold the power to stop this, I won’t.
Why? Because I earned it.
I earned every last bit of it.
Leaning onto his knees, he reaches for the Sybian’s
control, never once breaking eye contact. “Safe words,
baby. Repeat them to me,” he demands, as if reading my
mind.
“Reaching and maximum,” I recite like always.
 He nods approvingly and turns the magical dial to the
lowest setting, starting up the vibrations beneath me.
“Oh, God.” I clamp my eyes shut, inhaling a deep breath
through my nose in an effort to keep calm.
A reprieve I’m, apparently, not allowed either.
“Eh, eh, eh,” he chides again. “None of that. Eyes on me,
Lyric.”
And when I snap them back open, he’s reclined in the
chair once more, fisting his cock with a fiendish grip. My
pussy throbs at the sight of him working his length,
clenching around the silicone embedded inside me.
“Don’t do this to me,” I whimper. “Please, Daddy.”
“Why not?” he questions, one of his dark brows arching
high as he strokes himself tauntingly. “Didn’t you tell me
not to forget my place? This is me not forgetting it.”
I did say that.
Damn my big ass mouth and stupid, stupid ideas.
He turns the dial again, kicking up the vibes another
notch. My clit jumps in excitement as the sleek leather
trembles against it, luring another moan off my lips. “What
else did you tell Daddy, Princess? That it’s cute to see me
trying to be in control, and is that all I what?”
“I don’t remember,” I whisper, despite knowing exactly
what I said.
“Sure you do.” Another notch on the dial. “Is that all I
what?”
I can’t say it. I don’t want to say it, ‘cause I know it’s
only going to turn the vibration up yet again and I’m
already nearing the precipice, my orgasm building faster
than usual after two days of denial.
“I can’t hear you, Lyric.” His voice powers over the
Sybian’s thrumming. “Tell me what you said.”
“Is that all…” The sheer amount of pleasure ripping
through me has me sucking in a breath before I can force it
out. “Is that all you’ve got…”
 Grayson chuckles, the sound darker and more sadistic
than usual, a gruff groan following as he pumps himself
faster. “I don’t know, baby. Is this all I’ve got?”
I shake my head. He’s only just getting started.
And I’m right.
I blink and he’s throwing it on full blast, enabling the
second dial along with it to rotate the dildo inside me. My
core clenches. Hell, everything clenches. “Shit!” The shrill
of my voice sounds foreign even to my own ears as my chin
slams into my chest and I clamp my eyes shut.
“I said eyes on me,” he grits.
“I can’t.” My body quakes as the beginnings of my
release—the one I won’t get to have—takes hold. Nails
digging into my skin, I try like hell to fend it off, using every
bit of strength in my bound legs to try pushing away from
the vibrations. But it’s no use. The ropes are tightly in
place, allowing no leeway for movement. “Oh, God. Fuck,
fuck, fuck!”
Stars form.
I bow slightly forward, bracing myself.
And just as I’m about to unravel—everything stops.
Head thrown back, I howl in agony, already breaking,
too weak to handle another day of this start and stop
torture. I need to come. Need, not want. “Daddy, please. I
beg you. I need to come.”
“Awww, I almost pity you,” he coos, repeating that last
and final text from my bratfest, dragging my gaze back on
him. His strokes have slowed but his grip is unyielding.
“Must be so hard to watch Daddy be able to relieve himself,
huh?”
“Please,” I whine. “Relief. I need—”
He lets it rip—on full blast, expelling a screech from my
throat. Forget nearing the edge; I’m there, willing my body
to free-fall before he can stop me again, grinding frantically
against the intense vibration as the silicone rotates inside
of me.
 But Grayson knows me better than I know myself,
cutting it off at just the right moment all over again.
I scream, literally scream, growling in frustration, a
singular tear rolling down one of my cheeks. “Grayson,
please! I’m reaching my limit,” I cry out. “I can’t anymore. I
need to—”
“Naughty girls don’t get rewards, Lyric.” That’s not the
first time I've heard those words. “When the lesson is
learned, you’ll get to come.”
“I learned it, I swe—”
On.
Yep, you guessed it.
Off.
On.
Off.
On.
Off.
On.
Fucking off.
On again, and that time, I nearly come, writhing against
the Sybian, chasing it feverishly. All the while Grayson’s
stroking his cock just as frenzied, his groans of pleasure
only powering me on in my feat for sweet, sweet release.
Off.
“No!” I wail, safe word hot on my tongue. “No, no, no,
pleaseee! Please, Daddy, pleaseee!”
I’ve never maxed out on him. Reaching, I’ve thrown out,
but maximum? No. Never. He knows my limits. As sadistic
as he can be in his quests to make me come until it hurts,
he knows when I’ve had enough without me needing to say
as much.
Orgasm denial, evidently, brings out a whole new side of
his sadistic. I both hate it and love it in equal measure.
Though right now, it’s more hate. Hate ‘cause I feel like I’m
going to explode and—
 With a growl he’s out of the chair, working a hand in my
hair, cock firmly in his fist. “Open your mouth,” he demands
gruffly, running the tip along my lips.
Body quaking, I do as I’m told, opening wide for him, my
tongue rolling out like the red carpet while I hold his fiery
gaze.
One pump.
Two.
Three.
He’s coming with a volatile hiss, fisting the roots of my
hair as he shoots his load into my mouth. My tongue, down
my throat, I can taste every last tangy drop of him,
welcoming and loving it like always yet also envying the
fact he gets to come.
Please, Daddy, I beg him with my eyes. Lesson learned, I
swear.
“You really do look so beautiful like this,” he groans,
slapping his length on my tongue as the last of his release
spills free. “Bound, spread, at my disposal, following my
every command. Do you enjoy being Daddy’s little slut?”
I swallow him down and bob my head desirously. “Yes.”
God, yes.
Grayson then drops to his haunches in front of me, a
hand still threaded in my hair, brushing our lips together.
“And do you think said little slut should get to come now?”
“Please,” I whisper, eyes falling shut in anticipation of
his kiss. “I’ll do anything.”
A chaste kiss, one that lasts only seconds, before he’s on
his feet. There’s shuffling behind me for several moments,
his clothes joining my small pile on the floor. Next thing I
know, he’s freeing me from my bindings, lifting me to my
feet, scooping me up in his arms. A few steps and my back
meets the mattress of his bed, his frame settling beside me.
“You did so good, Princess,” he murmurs, stamping the
softest kisses not only to my lips, but down the column of
my neck, my chest. “I’m so proud of you for taking it so
well.”
Barely, I think to myself. I barely took it, but I know I
deserved it. He needed to reclaim control as badly as I
need to come, and as much as it sucked for me—orgasm
denial isn’t for the faint of heart, friends—I’ll always cater
to his needs in the same way he caters to mine. And at the
end of the day, punishment is part of the deal. I fucked
around…and I found out.
“These marks look stunning on you.” His palm runs
along the span of my legs, fingertips tracing the
indentations left behind by the rope. “I want a picture.”
“Take it,” I insist, too weak to lift my head and see them
for myself. “I wanna see.”
“Later,” he hums appreciatively. “Right now I think my
baby girl earned her orgasm.”
Lazy kisses, tender yet playful tongue, soft, unhurried
fingers at my clit—that’s how he makes me come…and it’s
probably one of the most intense, euphoric orgasms I’ve
ever had in my entire life.

OceanofPDF.com
 ♫ Lucky - Njomza ♫

“OH, MY GOD! OH, MY GOD!” Lyric squeals in excitement,

hopping out of the Land Rover the second I throw it in
park. Slamming the door behind her, she races around the
front end as I hop out from the driver’s side onto the pavers
of the driveway. “This is where we’re staying?”
I nod and she squeals again, throwing herself at me,
climbing me like a damned tree.
“I’ll take that as you like it,” I chuckle, hands clasping
the swells of her ass.
“Like it?” She licks at my lips playfully, then the tip of
my nose. “This place is fucking gorgeous. I love it! How
long are we staying?”
“The whole week.”
Her head rears back, eyebrows meeting her hairline.
“Seriously?”
“Yup.” With her body still wrapped around me like a
vine, I head for the front door of the lakeside cabin.
“What about work?” she probes.
“Told them I was going to visit your mom on location.
Nora’s taking all of my calls and knows not to reach out
unless it’s an actual emergency.”
Lyric grins devilishly, brushing the tip of her nose along
mine. “Sneaky, sneaky.”
“Figured we’d enjoy one last hurrah away from nosey
bastards before she gets back next week.” Just saying that
aloud makes my stomach wring anxiously, and judging by
the now soured look on Lyric’s face, I’m betting she’s
feeling it, too.
We don’t comment on it, though, all thoughts of
Nicolette shoved aside as I walk us into the house and set
her onto her feet.
“Jesus, this really is gorgeous. Look at that view,” she
says in awe, ambling further into the cabin.
The view was the selling point when I was browsing
rentals last week. Two-story floor to ceiling windows span
the whole back side of the house, giving an almost
panoramic view of Big Bear Valley and the lake. There’s
also a pool and a boat house with a small ultra-lux yacht I
can’t wait to get my hands on. The interior is nice as well,
all log-paneled walls, but I have a feeling we won’t be
spending too much time in here to care.
“Take a look around, Princess,” I call out behind her.
“I’m gonna grab the bags and then we’re hitting that
water.”
THIS IS EXACTLY what we needed; peace and quiet, away
from the microscopic lens of the paparazzi and society. And
after last week’s punishment, I’d say my little brat earned
it. Granted, I caved on day three, unable to deny her—or
myself from having her—any longer, but still, the lesson
was learned, wasn’t it? Do I expect her to stop sassing me
in entirety? No, and I wouldn’t want her to anyway. I enjoy
a healthy dose of brattiness and defiance. Keeps things fun,
interesting. But another line has been firmly drawn in the
sand—like me sharing her with another man—and next
time, she’ll think twice before mouthing off to me like that
again.
So here we are, soaking in the warm rays of the sun and
the silence of the lake, anchored just a few miles from the
cab—
An added weight suddenly pins me to the genuine tawny
leather recliner I’m occupying. Sunscreen and that familiar
blend of citrus and delicately floral waft up my nose,
quirking the corners of my mouth. Two seconds later, my
sunglasses are pushed to the top of my head, and when I
crack my eyelids open, I find Lyric’s sunkissed face up
close and personal.
“Hi,” she grins.
“Hey, Princess.”
“You were too far,” she explains, motioning with a tip of
her blonde head to the other built-in recliner about four
feet away. “I like this better.”
So do I. The view is killer. I didn’t think it was possible
for another bikini to strike me stupid, and yet here we are.
At least the pink one covered all her princess parts… This
one’s worse. It’s completely sheer, lacking any sort of
material. Made entirely of diamonds, a repeated heart
pattern covers both the tiny top and even tinier bottom,
leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. If she thinks
she’s wearing this out in public, she’s sorely—
Two bops to my nose cut my attention back up to her
awaiting, glimmering stare. “My face is up here.”
“And you have these perfect tits pressed to my chest.
What did you expect?”
“Perfect, huh?” She arches a brow, reaching for the
strings tied around her neck.
“No, don’t you da—”
The diamond triangles give way, and with a tug to the
straps around her back, she flings the shimmering scrap
onto the center console of the yacht. I flash her an only half
warning glare to which she grins triumphantly and pushes
up enough for those pretty pink nipples to come into my
line of sight.
A gruff “Fuck” rumbles in my throat as my hands
reflexively seal around them, kneading the soft flesh.
“Always such a cocktease. You like bringing Daddy to his
knees, don’t you?”
Lyric hums by way of response and slithers up my body
enough for me to put them in my mouth. “I do.”
“You’re being very naughty right now,” I croon, gently
tugging one of the rigid peaks between my teeth. “Anyone
can see you.”
“Possibly, but I don’t see a single soul out here. And if
there’s people watching us through their windows”—she
rolls her heat against me—“Let them. Who knows? We
might spice up someone’s failing marriage.” The salacious
wiggling of her eyebrows does nothing but make me
chuckle.
I’m not remotely surprised. Where I’m more of a voyeur,
she’s an exhibitionist.
Sucking one of those soft globes into my mouth, I flick
and lap my tongue against her nipple, taking care to tweak
and tug the other. Her little mewls of appreciation fuel me
onward, more still when she slips a hand between us and
runs a fingernail along my shaft over the thin polyester of
my swimming trunks.
My cock jerks against her ministrations, thumping
excitedly the longer she teases me.
“I want you inside me,” she whispers in my ear. “Filling
me, stretching me, owning me right here out in the open.”
Pulling off her breast, I squeeze them together, running
my tongue back and forth over both nipples at the same
damn time. “You want it?” Suck. “Then take it out…and
lose those bottoms.”
Lyric moves in double time, removing herself from my
grasp long enough to shimmy the rest of her bikini down
her legs and pull my cock free. All it takes is a few glides of
her bare pussy against it and that anxious fucker is ready
to go, twitching in her grasp. Watching her sink down to
the hilt is always one of my favorite parts. She takes every
inch so beautifully, molding to me along the way like I’m
really the only man meant to be there.
To take her.
Claim her.
Draping herself over me once more, she drags a
purposeful finger beneath my chin, luring me closer to her
mouth as she rides me at an unhurried pace. “How many
times do you think we’re gonna do this today?”
“I don’t know.” I catch her bottom lip, smoothing my
palms up and around her thighs to that juicy, bubbly ass.
“Lately, it feels like I’m the one having to keep up with you,
not the other way around for once in my life. I think I finally
met my match.”
A lazy yet equally breathtaking smile lights up her face.
She claims mine and brushes our lips together. “No take
backsies.”
“I wouldn’t dare,” I vow, peppering a trail of kisses from
those soft lips up to her ear. “You’re mine.”
 “All yours,” she professes. “All fucking yours.”
Fuel to the fire; that’s all her avowal is, flipping the
switch in my brain from tender and loving to carnal and
animalistic. A purposeful arm locks around her waist, a
hand snakes into her hair from underneath and fists the
roots, and then I’m moving, thrusting up and into that
tight, wet cunt like a racehorse thundering towards the
finish line.
“Oh, God! Yes!” she moans raggedly, clamping her eyes
shut. “Yes, right there!”
“It’s Daddy,” I grate, exchanging my grip in her hair for
a slap to her ass. “God would never fuck you like this.”

I WAS HOPING to save this for the very end of our trip, but it
seems I’m in my feelings. That is how the kids say it, right?
When you’re just so overcome, consumed by your emotions
that you don’t know what the fuck to do with yourself?
Yeah, I’m there.
Leather box stuffed in the pocket of my sweatpants, I
tread through the cabin in search of Lyric. The sun’s gone
down for the most part and the lack of lights within the
main space tells me she’s probably outside.
She is, laid out in the hammock on the back deck, an
arm thrown over her face.
“Princess,” I coo softly, not wanting to startle her.
She peeks up at me from beneath said arm and smiles.
“Finally. Took you long enough to shower. I was growing
gray hairs out here.”
‘Cause I was overthinking all the things I want to say…
“The hot water felt good.” I hitch a seemingly
nonchalant shoulder. “Scoot over.”
 Doing as I’ve asked, she allows me to roll in the netting
and curls up against me, throwing a leg over my body. The
way she sighs contentedly tugs at my heartstrings in all the
best ways possible. “I could fall asleep right here,” she
muses.
Same, baby.
“No sleeping yet. I have something for you.” My pulse
jumps despite the giggle that resounds in her chest. Can
she feel it?
“What? This dick?” She reaches for said dick, giving it a
playful squeeze.
“Well, yes always,” I chuckle, “but no, not what I meant,
you insatiable little minx.” Tilting her chin, I set a soft kiss
to her lips. “Remember what we talked about the night we
went to the Van Gogh exhibit?”
“You’ll have to refresh my memory on what exactly
you’re referring to. We talked about lots of things.”
“I mean in the car, when I told you not to give me any
ideas…”
“Yeah… Whyyy?” She arches a curious brow.
Here we go.
Retrieving the red Cartier box from my pocket, I offer it
up to her, the lid still closed. Her eyes instantly widen as
she yelps and shoots up from her place beside me in
excitement. Or maybe shock. Either way, the sudden
movement tilts the hammock just a little too much and we
both roll out like logs. I break her fall, landing on my back
with a grunt as she falls on top of me with the box now
clutched in her hand. Feels like I got the wind knocked
right out of me, my spine protesting along with it.
“Fuck, that hurt,” I groan with a laugh in tow.
“Should’ve known that was going to happen.”
“Oh, my God—are you okay!” she shrieks. “I’m sorry!
I’m so—”
“I’m fine, baby. I’m fine,” I insist, tittering as she smacks
kisses all over my face.
 “You just fell flat on your back! Are you sure you’re not
hurt?” The sheer sense of panic in her voice has me
catching her throat, silencing and stilling her in place as I
bore into her.
“I’m fine, I promise. Now be a good girl and open the
box.” My grip eases, and still she hesitates, staring down at
me unsurely for another beat or two. “Go on, open it.”
Shifting back onto her knees, her frame still in my lap,
she watches as I lift up onto my elbows, checking for any
signs of discomfort. When it’s clear I’m perfectly fine, she
traces the gold script on top of the box before finally
cracking it open, gasping at the glimmering contents
staring back at her.
Not a single peep comes out of her mouth, and the
longer she doesn’t say anything, the faster my heart
palpitates.
“It’s a collar,” I explain, swallowing the lump in my
throat as I sit upright, my weight supported on both hands.
“Well, technically Cartier would say it’s a choker, but I
figured something simple and classy would—”
She’s on me again, locking her arms around my neck,
going straight for my lips like she’ll never get another
taste. Again, it’s a damn good thing my reflexes are still
intact. Otherwise, I’d be flat to the deck a second time.
“You’re collaring me?” she exclaims.
Arm cinching around her waist, I thread my fingers
through her hair and nod. “If you’ll give me that honor,
yes.”
“Um, duhhh,” she sasses, setting the faintest kiss to the
tip of my nose.
A soft laugh escapes me, but I tighten my hold on her as
I follow that up with, “This is serious, baby. You’d be giving
yourself to me completely.”
“I already have.” She shrugs. “I’ve been yours since the
day you agreed to be my daddy.”
 She’s right, much like she is a lot of the time. For as
much as I tried keeping myself grounded, reminding myself
that what we initially agreed to was just sex with no
strings, and she was technically still a single woman, deep
down I think I always knew she was mine and only mine.
“I didn’t know how much I needed this,” I start, tucking
a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. “How much I
needed you—us. Getting to be the man you call Daddy
means more to me than I ever could have imagined. Of all
the subs I’ve ever had, every relationship before you,
nothing tops this.” Pressing another kiss to her lips, I hope
with everything I am she feels the verity of my words. “I’d
never have guessed how perfect you could be, but you are,
baby. You’re so fucking perfect for me, in any and every
way possible. You make me happier than I’ve ever been in
my entire life. I love you…”
The brat retreats, I literally watch it happen, and out
comes the sweet, innocent princess who often softens me
more than I care to admit. “I love you too,” she whispers,
molding her frame against me. “You make me feel so seen,
so understood, so loved. No one else can relate, Grayson.
No one has ever related.” Same. “Forcing your hand may
not have been the right way to go about things, but you
know what? I don’t regret it and I’m not sorry. I’m glad,
now more than ever, that I took the risk. Otherwise, I’d
probably still be pining away over you, admiring you from
afar.”
I can’t even imagine that now. A life without Lyric in this
way seems so…lackluster. Pitiful. Pointless.
“I’m never taking this off, except in the bedroom. I don’t
want you accidentally yanking it a little too hard.” Easing
back, she carefully pulls the collar free from its confines.
“Might need to get one more suitable for that.”
My brow perks at her implication. “You want one for the
bedroom, too?”
 Lyric nods. “I’ve lowkey had my eye on one for a while.
It’s pink with a little metal heart in the middle for the leash
clip.”
Lyric.
On her knees.
Collared.
Leashed.
Yes, fuck yes, we’re doing it.
“Are you saying my little brat wants to be leashed?” I
question.
“Only if the end of the leash is wrapped around Daddy’s
hand.” A wink and then she’s handing me the jewelry
before pivoting in my lap. “Put it on me, please.”
Draping the white gold chain around her neck, the
diamond encrusted infinity band sitting at her throat, I lock
the clasp in place and smooth it out against her skin. My
chest puffs up with nothing but pride, appreciation, love.
“There, locked up.”
“This is stunning, Daddy. Thank you,” she beams,
leaning back against me, prompting me to cinch my arms
around her and kiss her cheek.
“Anything for you, Princess.”
“You really mean that? Anything?”
I nod. “Anything.”
She peers up at me through her peripheral then, a
wicked gleam in her eyes as a hiccup of silence passes
between us, one I should’ve known would drop me on my
ass. “Leave my mom then. Be mine.” She’s entirely serious,
too, just about sucking all the air from my lungs.
“Lyric…” I trail off.
“Grayson…” she mimics.
“You know I—”
“Don’t say you can’t ‘cause it’s been a year since we last
talked about this,” she cuts me off without fear of
repercussion, pivoting in my lap to face me all over again.
“A year, Daddy. We’ve been keeping this under wraps for
more than three-hundred-sixty-five days. You just collared
me, you’ve told me you love me. You know I love you, too.
Give us a chance to finally stand on our own two feet
without her in the way. She comes back in a few days…”
“Ugh, don’t remind me.” I shudder just thinking about
having to deal with that woman again.
“Are you dreading it as much as I am?” she questions.
“Always, but after these last twelve weeks especially,
yes.”
“Then let’s do something about it,” she insists, taking
my face in her hands, her thumbs rubbing against the
stubble along my jaw. “I can’t take it much more, seriously.
I’m tired of sharing you with her.”
It’s the way she says her, with such venom and hatred
laced in that one little word, that clenches my heart, my
stomach.
“I know, baby, I know. Me too,” I vow. “But at this point,
you’re not even sharing me. Our sex life is non-existent. I’m
yours, trust me.”
“Ew.” She wrinkles her nose, tongue peeking out in
disgust.
“Don’t ew me,” I chuckle. “Your mother’s a very
beautiful woman. She’s just not you. She also doesn’t want
me anymore.”
“She’s an idiot is what she is,” she scoffs, eyes rolling to
the heavens as she seeks out my lips. “I’d never play you,
much less let you go.”
“It’ll be a huge scandal. You realize that, right?”—kiss
—“Doesn’t matter that she’s checked out, she’ll raise hell,
likely tarnish our names.”
“Not if we blackmail her,” she counters, deviously I
should add.
Blackmail?
“How are we gonna do that?”
Lyric flashes me that famous devilish grin, one fueled by
the brat, completely unfazed by the matter. “Leave it to me,
Daddy. I’ve got this in the bag.”
And she very well might, but… “Even if we somehow
manage to keep her quiet, it’ll still be a scandal, period.
The paparazzi will have a fucking field day when they see
us out together.”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there. No use in
worrying about it right now,” she reasons. “I say we hit her,
or rather, you hit her with the news when she gets back.
Spares us from having to hop on the merry-go-round of
bullshit again.”
A brief bout of silence ensues, one where we eye one
another, the life we’ve had to endure and the life we want
flashing before our eyes. I don’t know about her, but the
clarity in which I can see it all only makes me want it that
much more. And let me tell you—I want it bad.
She’s right, you know, my subconscious chimes in.
Now’s the time to make the move. You want her, prove it.
A soft laugh bubbles in my chest because of it, because
well… “This is crazy. We’re crazy.”
“Crazy in love,” she chuckles, nipping at my bottom lip.
“All the more reason to finally and officially ditch the
witch.”

OceanofPDF.com
 ♫ safety net - Ariana Grande ♫

“WHAT’S GOT you smiling at your phone like that?” I ask

Grayson as I amble into our room after a shower. We ate up
most of the daylight out on the water again, enjoying the
last day of our vacation. Tomorrow, we go back home.
And the day after that—my mom comes home.
“Just taking a little trip down memory lane.” He angles
the screen my way, allowing me to join his nostalgic
moment.
A quick scan of what looks to be the contents of our text
thread and a lazy grin spreads my lips. He’s re-reading the
messages we exchanged the night I sent him the nude.
“Feels like just yesterday, yet forever ago at the same
time.”
“Tell me about it,” he scoffs playfully.
“You know, you never did tell me what gave me away,” I
probe, raking the comb through my hair as he tosses the
phone onto the nightstand and crosses his arms.
“What do you mean?”
“Like how you knew it wasn’t really an accident.”
“Oh.” A smirk tickles the corner of his mouth. “We didn’t
text often enough for our thread to be directly beneath
whoever you claimed you were sending the image to.”
I nod a few times in concession, because that’s fair…and
true, climbing onto the bed and situating myself between
his spread legs. “And how’d that make you feel knowing
your step-daughter was trying to seduce you?”
“Torn. I was both aroused and disturbed.”
“Had you ever looked at me like that before?”
“Once,” he confesses. “Ironically enough, it was a few
weeks before you sent that pic.”
“Oh, yeah?” My head jerks back slightly, an intrigued
expression painting on my face. “Do tell.”
“Three words.” Three fingers appear in my line of sight,
wiggling for added effect. “Pink sparkly bikini.”
“Pink bikini?” I parrot, racking for my brain for which
one he’s referring to ‘cause I have a few of those.
Grayson nods, and I don’t miss the way his cock thumps
just once beneath me. “You were out in the pool with a few
of your friends. I swear it’s like your tits grew two sizes
overnight ‘cause when you came in to grab some drinks, to
say I was taken aback would be putting it lightly. I’d never
seen your tits look so damn…juicy.” His gaze flicks there
now, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as the soft swells
peek out at him from my white top. He’s definitely a boob
guy if you haven’t noticed by now. “Those sparkly triangles
barely covered your nipples. Literally took everything in me
not to look and not go rock hard while I was at it.”
 “Oh, that bikini,” I giggle, while mentally high-fiving
myself ‘cause I was right this whole time. He was eye-
fucking me that day… “No random overnight titty job, I
swear. That set is just designed smaller. Kinda the whole
point.”
“Whatever it was, I was hypnotized, and the amount of
guilt I felt when I locked myself in my office after the fact
was astronomical. For as much as I tried to distract myself,
I couldn’t think about anything else.”
Palms falling to his thighs, I lean into him and settle my
lips beside his ear. “Tell me what you thought about.”
“Grabbing them, biting them, sucking on them, shoving
my cock between them while you sucked me off,” he rasps,
hooking a swift finger beneath my collar and giving a
gentle yet equally commanding yank.
God, I love when he does this shit.
I hum salaciously as he lures me closer and ghosts our
lips together tauntingly. He’s so caught up trying to tease
me, he doesn’t notice me dragging down the neckline of my
tank top until my tits spring free. With every last bit of his
attention instantly seized, a hiss whirrs through his teeth, a
second promptly following when I grasp them, press them
together, jiggling them goadingly. “Do you wanna titty fuck
me right now, Daddy?”
That arousing animalistic growl reverberates from deep
within his chest. “Fucking hell, Lyric…” He’s pulling me
into his lap, pressing me flush against semi growing harder
beneath his briefs.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” I purr.
“Anything involving you is an automatic yes, you know
that.” Claiming my breasts, his thumbs go right for my
nipples, assaulting them into rigid peaks as his tongue licks
into my mouth, rousing mine to play.
A soft moan catapults free my throat. I could do this
with him all day, every day, forever. “Can’t we just stay
another day? No, scratch that…can’t we just stay, period?
Never go back. I’m sure whoever owns this house would
jump at whatever offer you’d throw on the table.”
“We can’t just run away,” he titters, groaning faintly as
my hips roll into him. “People would ask questions, starting
with your mother. We have to go back, and it has to be
tomorrow. I told my attorney I’d be around sometime in the
afternoon to pick up the papers.”
Lawyer. Papers. I freeze, like perfectly still freeze, the
hazy cloud of lust lifting enough for me to look him in the
eye without seeing doubles. “You really had divorce papers
drafted?”
Grayson heaves a curious, dark brow. “Did you think I
was going to walk into the lion’s den unprepared?”
“No, but…” I shrug. “I don’t know.”
He observes me for a beat, and I mean really observes
me, before sealing those sizeable, adept hands around my
face. “Didn’t think I’d actually go through with it?”
I nod meekly, ashamed to admit as much. It’s not that I
don’t trust him, it’s just… A part of me feels like it was too
easy to convince him to jump on board with my spur of the
moment suggestion. Grayson isn’t an impulsive man, not
the majority of the time anyway. He’s precise, calculated,
thinks things through before coming to a decision. I know
he’d just offered his heart to me, gifted me a beautiful
collar, said all the right things, and I believe he loves me
and I believe he wants to be with me…but finally taking the
leap and asking my mom for a divorce is a big deal.
It’s life-altering.
“If we really want to be together, just us, with nothing or
no one to stop us, I have to. This is the first step, baby,” he
imparts. “There’s no other way.”
“Have you thought about what you’re going to say to
her?” I prod.
“In short, that I’m done, that I can’t do this anymore. I’ll
ask her to sign the papers, tell her she’s got a month to get
her shit out.”
 Sounds legit enough. “And what about me?”
Raking a damp strand of hair behind my ear, a meager
smile tickles his lips. “I want you to stay in your room while
it’s all going down.”
“That’s not what I”— .
“Eh, eh, eh.” I’m suddenly on my back with his
indomitable frame between my legs. Dragging a finger
down my lips, he slowly descends the length of my body,
stamping wet kisses along the way. “And right now, I want
you to lay right here while I go down.”
One swift movement and he’s got my shorts down my
legs.
My panties.
Spreading me open for him.
Tonguing my clit.
Making me forget anything and everything that isn’t us
right here in this moment.

OceanofPDF.com
 ♫ happier than ever - Loveless ♫

IT’S TIME.
D-day.
The moment we’ve all been waiting for.
Nicolette just text me to let me know Baxter will be
pulling up any minute now, and I have everything ready to
go. I thought I might feel more on edge, nervous even…but
I’m not. Not remotely. I’m ready to get this over with, to be
free, to wash my hands of the woman who betrayed me in
the worst way possible and be able to give myself to Lyric
as completely as she’s given herself to me.
 The next chapter of my life is waiting to be written. I
won’t allow fear of the unknown and any possible
repercussions to hold back the page from turning any
longer.
“Yoo-hoo! I’m home, my loves!” Nicolette calls out, her
voice resounding from the foyer, followed by Baxter
beginning the process of bringing all her luggage in.
I roll my eyes at the breezy tone of her voice, arms
crossed over my chest from my place against the island. “In
the kitchen.”
The sound of her heels clicking on the travertine tiles
grows louder and louder, each one of her steps purposeful,
until finally she clears the threshold, looking more casual
than normal yet no less beautiful. Her caramel blonde hair
is slicked back in a high ponytail, makeup light and simple.
White crop top, light-wash skinny jeans, electric pink
strappy heels. In another time and place, the sight of her
would’ve made me insanely happy, aroused even.
Now, I feel nothing but loathing and disgust.
“Hi honey!” She smiles brightly, her teeth somehow
more white against the tan she picked up over the last
twelve weeks. “Where’s Lyric?”
“Upstairs.”
“Lyric, sweetheart, Mommy’s home! Come downstairs!”
she yells behind her, closing the distance between us right
as the front door clicks shut. The urge to pull a Lyric and
roll my eyes yet again is right there. I mean, she just said
‘Mommy’s home’ as if Lyric were a goddamn child. And it’s
with that thought in mind that I refuse her touch as she
stops before me. Holding my hands up to block her off, I
veer off to one side when she tries to kiss me. “Grayson,”
she chuckles admonishingly. “Don’t be a tease. Kiss me,
baby.”
“I’ll pass,” I deadpan.
Her head rears back, ponytail swishing with the motion.
“Excuse me? I’ve been gone for three months. Don’t you
want to kiss your wife?”
Nope. I shake my head.
“And why the hell not?” she snaps, hands falling
haughtily to her hips.
My reply is nothing more than me sliding out of the way
with a tip of my chin toward the island, an action she
follows. That’s when she notices the cake that was hidden
behind my frame and steps closer to take a better look.
The red, heart-shaped cake that’s deceiving as all hell
from a distance. Anyone would think it’s a display of love
and affection.
Joke’s on her.
Nicolette reads and re-reads the three words piped on
top a good five times—I’m divorcing you—before she cranks
her head my way, staring at me in utter disbelief. “Is this a
joke?”
I titter, low and deep in my throat as I retreat to the
other side of the island and pull open one of the empty
drawers. “Why would I joke about something like that?”
“You can’t possibly be serious,” she carps, earning her a
bob of my head.
“Oh, but I am. I’m done.” Pulling the divorce papers free
from the drawer, I slap them onto the pristine black and
white marble and slide them toward her.
Those dark blue eyes I once to adored widen like
saucers, her mouth popping open just slightly as she cuts
her gaze back up to meet mine. “Are you serious right now,
Grayson? I just got home after being away for three months
and this is how you welcome me?”
Jesus Christ, she’s so full of herself. How had I never
noticed before?
Because love is blind, that little voice reminds me. You
genuinely cared about her, flaws and all.
Yes, I suppose so….
“I don’t give a damn about welcoming you,” I counter. “I
just want my life back.”
 “Your life back?” she scoffs, her tone nothing short of
affronted. “What could I have possibly taken from you?”
“Time and love I could’ve given to someone else.
Someone who actually wanted it, who wanted me.”
“Who the hell said I didn’t want you?”
Much like the urge to roll my eyes just moments ago, it’s
right there, right there on the tip of my motherfucking
tongue, begging for me to finally set it free. To call her out
and say all the things I’ve wanted to say since I first
learned she was being unfaithful. But with no hard
evidence, literally none whatsoever, I know she’ll deny it.
She’ll label me crazy and say I’m making shit up, so I
swallow it down, choking as it all but scrapes down my
throat for the millionth time. “You and the lack of your
presence in our day to day lives did. I didn’t marry you to
never see you or spend time with you. I married you
because I loved you, because I wanted all those things with
you. I wanted to build a life with you and you’ve completely
excluded me from that.”
“Traveling is part of the job, Grayson. You knew what
you were signing up for when you asked me to marry—”
“I don’t give a damn about the traveling!” My voice
thunders, heart rate galloping in tandem. “I’ve always
supported you and your career in every way possible,
which is more than I can say for you with mine, but that’s
besides the point. What I do care about is you’re never here
when you are in town. You’d rather be out with your friends
than spend time with your husband or your daughter,” I
leer and, yet again, her head jerks back.
“What are you talking about? I spend plenty of time with
the both of you!”
Is she high?
“Yeah? When? When’s the last time we did anything as a
family? When’s the last time we went on vacation as a
family? Hell, when’s the last time you and I went on
vacation alone or even went out on a date?”
 “New York?” She throws it out there like I’m stupid, as if
it was just yesterday rather than almost a year ago.
A fucking year ago.
“Oh please, New York wasn’t a vacation,” I sneer, gaze
pinching in exasperation. “New York was you dragging me
across the country to visit your best friend and do
something you wanted to do. Not for us to get away and
enjoy each other.” Although, even if that had been the case,
I wouldn’t have enjoyed it. I was already falling for Lyric at
that point.
Regardless, it’s the principle of the matter.
“Is that why you left early?” She crosses her arms
defensively. “Because it wasn’t all about you?”
“I didn’t need it to be all about me, Nicolette, but it
would’ve been nice to take an uninterrupted vacation with
my wife.”
“Okay, so I’ll ask you again. Is that. Why you. Left
early?” she enunciates, not only making her way around
the island, but squaring up to me, too, lifting her chin
brazenly.
Leaning in close, and I mean close enough our noses
nearly graze, I hit her back with a shameless, “Yes. It. Is.”
“So you lied, then?” Her stare narrows and my shoulder
hitches of its own accord, uncaring and unfazed.
“Sure did, and I don’t feel remotely bad about it. Not
when you treat me and that girl upstairs like we’re second
best.”
And second best might be generous. Most of the time it
feels like we’re—
She jams a perfectly manicured fingernail into my chest,
inching up on the tips of her toes challengingly. “Do not
bring my daughter into this. I love her with my life.”
“Mmm, sure you do.” Sure you fucking do. My face
relays as much as I latch onto her wrist and push her back
enough to remove her from my breathing space.
 Both actions that leave her positively outraged. Her
nostrils flare and all. “What the fuck is that supposed to
mean?”
“It means that you may be able to fool Vogue, but her
and I”—I motion upstairs—“we know the truth.” And yes,
there’s an underlying hint to that, one I almost hope she’ll
catch onto and question me about.
She doesn’t of course, but in a way, she doesn’t need to,
because some of the color drains from her face, and the
wheels in her head? They’re turning a mile per minute, two
obvious indicators of the instant paranoia now sweeping
through her being.
“And what pray tell would that be?” she questions,
playing it off as best she can, her award-winning mask
slipping in place.
I sigh an a mirthless laugh and roll my eyes. “Shows how
much you’re listening. I won’t repeat myself.”
“What? That you think I don’t give a damn about either
of you?” She censures.
“I don’t think. I know.” I know so much more than you
think I do, you deceitful bitch. “Between that, the crazy
hours ‘on set’, and the late nights… I can’t. I can’t do this
anymore. I’m done.”
In every which way possible.
In everything fucking dimension.
In any and every lifetime.
Done.
“Why do you say on set like it’s a lie? I work my ass off
to provide for—”
“Don’t.” I hold a hand up, instantly triggered. “Don’t you
dare say you provide for this family. I provide for this
family. You don’t pay a dime around here unless it’s for you!
Everything is for you, about you, twenty-four-fucking-seven.
I’m tired of it, Nicolette. Your daughter is tired of it.
Enough is enough. Sign the papers and go be happy by
yourself since that seems to be what you want. You’ll be
doing me a favor, allowing me to find my happiness…
because it’s obviously not going to be with you.”
Silence.
Thick and utterly heavy. We stare each other down for
quite some time, so many questions and unspoken things
still waiting to be unleashed. What shocks me is that she
actually seems upset. Could be because how dare I leave
her, right? But I’m freeing her, giving her the opportunity
to be with David, no restrictions or borders in sight.
“That night makes so much sense now,” she scoffs a
laugh, shaking her head in revelation.
“What night?”
“The night you nearly choked me on your dick, you
asshole!” Her hands meet my chest in a purposeful shove.
“I slipped into bed trying to make love to you, and you
shoved your cock down my throat, shot your cum on my
face like I’m some cheap whore! Then rolled over without
bothering to get me off! Were you punishing me for the
absurdities you’ve created in your head?”
See? Had I mentioned her cheating, that wouldn’t been
an “absurdity” too. “If I was, you’d deserve it,” I seethe,
mentally smirking as the instant replay races through my
mind.
She deserved it, alright.
Nicolette treads closer, stare cinched and heated as she
shakes a reprimanding, threatening finger at me. “You’re
making a big mistake.”
“Am I, though?” My head rears condescendingly. “You
don’t give a damn about me, you haven’t for quite some
time now. I deserve more than a woman who parades
around like my wife but clearly doesn’t care to actually be
my wife. You’re married to the money, to your career. Might
as well throw on your wedding dress, take a drive up to
Mount Lee, and pose with the Hollywood sign. It’ll make for
a beautifully framed photo in your new home.”
 She sucks in a disgruntled breath, gaze narrowing
impossibly more. “I will run you into the ground,” she
growls through her teeth.
A challenge if I’ve ever heard one, coaxing me to tower
over her. “I’d love to see you try, baby. You signed a prenup,
remember? What’s mine is fucking mine, and what’s yours
is yours. You’ve got a month to gather your shit and get the
hell out of my house.”
“I’m not signing a damn thing until my lawyer reviews
it,” she tosses back.
“Fine by me. Have at it.” She won’t find anything that’s
not supposed to be there, much less anything to fuck her
over.
I’m not a dick. I can be, but I don’t need this to be any
nastier than it already is.
“Mark my words, you’ll regret this,” she remarks,
snatching the papers off the island and slowly retreating
toward the front of the house. “I’m the best thing that ever
happened to you.”
Fuck no you’re not, but your daughter is. “The only
thing I regret is how many years of my life I wasted on
you.”
“You’re a fool,” she leers. “You’ll never find anyone like
me.”
“That’s the whole point. I don’t want anyone like you,” I
quip.
She doesn’t reply, marching her ass out of the kitchen
with a harrumph. Sheer seconds later, all I hear is an
unhinged, “Lyric, get down here—now!”
My stomach wrings acerbically. I may not have been
nervous to finally have it out with Nicolette, but bringing
Lyric into this… This is where it gets messy.
Where we really have to play it right.
She appears at the top of the stairs the same moment I
pull up beside her mother. “What’s going on?” she
questions, as if she were none the wiser to what transpired
in the kitchen.
“Pack a bag and meet me in the car.” That’s all Nicolette
offers her, wrenching open the front door.
“What? Why?” Where are we going?” Her gaze flicks
back and forth between her mother and me.
“I don’t know, sweetheart. Why don’t you ask Grayson
since he’s the one kicking us out?” Nicolette sneers,
pinning me with a death stare.
“What is she talking about?” Lyric’s voice pulls my gaze
away from my soon-to-be ex-wife and up to where she
stands.
I sigh and scrub a hand down my face for good measure,
crossing my arms over my chest. “Your mother and I are
getting a divorce.”
“I’m sorry, what?” she squeaks, trotting down a few
steps.
“This was my welcome home present; divorce papers,”
Nicolette clarifies, laughing sardonically as she shakes the
papers Lyric has already seen. “Couldn’t even wait until I’d
taken my damn shoes off before hitting me with it.”
“No point in wasting any more of my time,” I toss back.
Nicolette rolls her eyes and pulls up the lever on the
largest of her suitcases. “Lyric, sweetie, please listen to
mommy and go pack a bag while I put mine in the car.”
“But all my stuff’s here,” Lyric argues.
“We’ll have someone move it out soon, don’t worry,”
Nicolette pacifies, but Lyric’s already in a panic.
A genuine panic because we never discussed this, what
would happen after I told her mother to get the fuck out of
my life.
“Where are we even gonna go?” she inquires, and her
mother only sighs, tired of all her questions.
“Renee’s.”
“That’s in New York! I’m not going all the way across
the country! I’m meeting with Victoria’s Secret in two
weeks!” And no, that’s not a lie, either. She got the initial
call back about being one of the candidates for the coveted
Angel position while we were at the cabin.
“We’ll fly back, don’t worry,” Nicolette tries reassuring
her, but Lyric’s already shaking her head.
“I’m not going.” Her fretful gaze snaps my way. “Please
tell me I can stay here, Grayson. I don’t wanna go with
her.”
I’m two seconds away from agreeing, telling her she’s
more than welcome to stay as long as she likes, when my
wife races to the edge of the staircase. “You are not staying
here with him, Lyric. I am your mother, and you’re leaving
with me.”
“I’m an adult!” Lyric barks.
“And I don’t care. The answer is no. You’re not staying
here with him.”
“Yes, I am. What are you gonna do? Drag me out by my
hair?”
“Try me, I dare you,” Nicolette grits out.
Lyric looks to me for help, literally pleading me with
those big blue eyes. And as much as I want to, I know now
isn’t the time for us to possibly reveal ourselves and what
we’ve been up to. Opposing her mother will likely do just
that.
“You’re always welcome here, but you need to go with
your mom, Lyric,” I reason. “I’m sorry.”
I’m really sorry, baby girl.

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 ♫ i love you - Billie Eilish ♫

I GET IT. I get why he’s telling me to leave, but my heart is

screaming, cracking right down the middle as I head back
to my room. First thing I do is swipe my phone off the
nightstand and text Carlie.

Me: Please tell me you’re home.

While awaiting her reply, I rush into my closet and grab

a duffle bag big enough for a week’s worth of shit,
haphazardly pulling random articles of clothing from both
the hangers and the built-in drawers. My phone pings on
the island as I’m shoving everything inside without care.

Cece: I am. **eyeball emoji** Why?

Me: Need to crash. I’ll fill you in when I get there.
Cece: Let me know when you’re 5 min away and I’ll unlock
the door.

I send her three pink hearts in response so as not to

worry her and continue milling about my room, trying not
to dwell on the fact he didn’t tell me to stay. Like I said, I
understand why. Really and truly I do. But it doesn’t hurt
any less, doesn’t make me question everything any less.
She may be my mom, but he’s done more for me in the last
year than she has. He’s here, present, actually giving a fuck
about me, about my life, how I’m feeling, how I’m doing.
‘Cause he’s in love with you, my subconscious reminds
me, drawing my hand up to the collar sitting tightly around
my throat. His concern for you doesn’t come from a
parental place.
True, but mom doesn’t know that.
In any case, it’s too late now. He made it quite clear I
have to leave and—
“Lyric, let’s go!” my mom’s shrill carries up the stairs
from the front door, shooting my shoulders up to my ears.
God, she’s annoying.
And she’s about to become unbearable when she
realizes I wasn’t joking, that I’m really not going with her
across the fucking country. She can kiss my whole entire
ass with that shit.
Quickly packing the last of my necessities, I hit the
lights, shut the door, and head downstairs in no particular
hurry. She’s there on the doorstep, and Grayson is…gone.
My heart shoots up to my throat, threatening to choke me
out, but I keep on, brushing past my mother toward my car.
The sound of her slamming the front door shut—dramatic
as always—is the last thing I hear before I hit the unlock
button on the key fob.
“What are you doing?” she asks, her presence hot on my
tail. “We’ll come back for your car when the movers—”
“I’m not going with you,” I deadpan, wrenching open the
driver door and tossing my bag into the passenger seat.
“Excuse me?” I’m not even looking at her and I know
her head nearly snapped off her neck.
My eyes nearly spin right out of their sockets as I drop
into the leather seat behind the wheel. “You heard me,
mother. I’m not. Going with you. I already told you I have
shit to do here and I’m not about to be catching flights
every week to make it happen. Have fun with Renee.” Door
slamming shut in her face, I ignore her protests and the
way she bangs on the window as I start up the Audi and tap
open my thread with Carlie to let her know I’m on my way.
And then I drive away with a knot in my stomach the
size of Texas, hoping like all hell that wasn’t the last time I
walked out of that house and that I won’t actually have to
make use of all the shit I packed in that bag.

“I NEED YOU TO RELAX,” Carlie says to me as she hands me

a glass of Sauvignon blanc and plops her ass onto the
couch beside me. “The situation is delicate and you can’t be
jumping to conclusions. You had to know he wasn’t going to
come right and tell her about you guys right, then, and
there. That’d be suicide.”
I nearly drain the glass before offering a shrug. “I don’t
know what I thought. We didn’t really have a plan. I asked
him to leave her after he gave me the collar and he agreed.
By the end of our trip, his attorney had the papers drafted
up. All he told me was to stay in my room when it was all
going down.”
“And did you? ‘Cause I know your bratty ass likes to do
the opposite of what he says all the goddamn time,” she
quips, smirking behind the rim of her glass.
“I did. I mean, I stood at the doorway, heard every last
bit of it, but I didn’t come downstairs until my mom started
yelling for me like the lunatic she is.”
Carlie titters softly, nodding her head in agreement.
“Well, maybe my radar’s off, but I’m not getting any red
flags here. Not yet anyway. You guys have to play this
smart, L, one step at a time. If he would’ve told you to stay,
your mom would’ve started questioning why he’s allowing
that. He may be your step-dad, but you’re her blood
daughter. In situations like these, the child always leaves
with the blood parent.”
“I’m not a child, though,” I counter defensively. “I'm an
adult. I should be able to stay where I want, when I want,
without her questioning shit.”
“That’s what makes it worse, though. Like I said, if he’d
allowed you to stay, I think your mom would’ve put two and
two together, which would’ve blown shit up more than it
already did. You’ve gotta let them get this divorce finalized
before you come clean.”
I guess… “I suppose you’re right.”
“Of course, I’m right. I’m always right.” She flips her
auburn curls and all, flashing me a bubbly wink.
The soft chuckle whirls around in my chest, but it’s not
nearly half as amused as it would be on a normal day. Stare
glued to the wine glass in my grip, I drag my finger around
the rim, wondering what he’s doing, why he hasn’t text
me… “Can I stay with you then? Until all of this blows over
at least? I don’t know what my mom’s plan is past crashing
at Renee’s for a bit, and—”
 “You can stay forever if you want,” my best friend
interjects. “This place was supposed to be ours, remember?
That room up there is and always will be yours.”
When I glance up at her, she’s eyeing me
sympathetically. I kind of hate it, to be honest. Hate the
way it makes my stomach clench with worry impossibly
more than it already has in the last hour and a half. Where
are you, Daddy? “You’re the best.” I fall into her, curling up
at her side.
Her arm instinctively drapes around me as she sets a
kiss to the top of my head and squeezes me. “Everything’s
gonna work out. You’ll see.”

Me: Daddy, you awake?

I STARE at the three-word text I just sent Grayson a few

seconds ago, silently willing him to respond as Carlie
sleeps soundly beside me. It’s well past midnight and I still
haven’t heard from him, and although I promised her I’d let
him just be for the night, let him have his space after
blowing up our lives to be together, I can’t. I need to know
—

Daddy: Yes.

My heart sinks to the pit of my stomach while my

stomach simultaneously launches up to my throat as his
one word reply pops up in our thread. Never, in the entire
time we’ve been together, has he ever responded like this,
with a one-word answer. My thumbs tap against the
keyboard at lightning speed.

Me: Let me come home. She’s gone. I didn’t go with her.

Daddy: Where are you?
Me: At Carlie’s. I can be there in less than an hour.
Daddy: No, stay there.

The golf ball in my throat that is my stomach expands

into a baseball and the proverbial noose around my neck
tightens. He doesn’t…want me to come home?

Me: What? Why?

Daddy: It’s better off this way.
Me: What are you talking about? She’s finally gone.
Daddy: And it’s about to get really ugly. I know your
mother, Lyric. She’s about to drag me through the mud. We
can’t do this.

I shoot up right in the bed, my pulse rampaging, not

wanting to ask what he means, but needing to know. He’s
not saying what I think he’s saying, right? There’s no way.
We’ve come too far…

Me: Do what?

His reply doesn’t come through as quickly as the others

this time, which doesn’t soothe me in the slightest. I bore
into my phone screen, once again willing him to respond.
To talk to me. To tell me what’s on his—

Daddy: Us.
 My entire world screeches to a stop in that very
moment, the warm colors slowly draining away, leaving me
in what feels like a cold, monochrome hell. “No, no, no,” I
whisper into the dark, my bottom lip trembling
uncontrollably, my entire frame shaking.

Me: Daddy, NO. Don’t do this. Don’t do this to me, to us.

Daddy: It has to be this way. If we tell her about us, or
worse yet, she finds out about us before we have the
chance to tell her, I’ll be more screwed than I already am.

“You’re running,” I rasp, typing out the exact same

words, a wall of moisture blurring my vision, my heart
cracking and shattering.

Me: You’re running. A year later and you’re running scared.

You promised no more running.
Daddy: I’m sorry, Lyric.
Me: Don’t be sorry. Just don’t do this. We don’t have to say
shit about us right now. I can wait.
Daddy: You shouldn’t have to wait anymore. Go be young
and free. Find someone who isn’t going to make your
mother hate you when you tell her about him.
Me: I don’t want anyone else, and I don’t give a damn
about whether or not she hates me for stealing her ex-
husband. She shouldn’t have done what she did if she
wanted to keep you.
Daddy: You’ll thank me one day. I promise.
Me: Why are you doing this? I love you. You told me you
love me, too.
Daddy: I do…which is why I have to let you go.

“No!” I wail, tossing my phone across the room without

care. It hits the wall, the thud loud and clear, and yet I
barely hear it as every drop of blood in my body roars
through my ears. “This can’t be happening. This can’t be
fucking happening!” Bringing my knees up, I hug them like
a lifeline, burying my face against my skin in an effort to
muffle the sounds of my despair.
But Carlie’s already on high alert, tugging me back to
where she lays, swallowing me in her embrace as I let
myself fall apart and sob in agony into her chest. ‘Cause
that’s exactly what this is—agony. I’ve been heartbroken
before but this….this surpasses anything I’ve ever felt a
hundred times over. The pieces of my heart already
shattered from his initial reply fracture in entirety,
pulverizing the fragments of my love for him into nothing
but ashes. It’s excruciating, my body quaking violently as
every moment we ever shared speeds through my mind in a
vicious reel.
“He… H-he ended it,” I howl, struggling to speak, to
think, to breathe.
Everything fucking hurts. Every little thing.
“I figured as much,” she whispers, raking her fingers
through my hair. “Do you wanna talk about it?”
I shake my head. I don’t wanna talk about it. Don’t think
about it. Don’t wanna feel this. Don’t wanna live this.
I just want my Daddy back.
And according to him, I can’t have that.

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OceanofPDF.com
 ♫ Vegas - Doja Cat ♫

One month later…

GRIEF IS WEIRD.
One day you’re so bogged down by the emotional
torment you can’t function, and then out of nowhere it feels
like the sun finally came out and everything’s going to be
okay. In reality, it hasn’t and you’re not, but the delusion
aids in feeling human again.
The problem is said humanity isn’t always fueled by
good decisions.
 Sometimes humanity latches onto the bad because being
bad and taking risks feels good. The adrenaline rush offers
that hit of dopamine you might not get by making the right
decision—which is why I’m currently pinned to a wall in
Leland Cortez’s home with his lips skating down my
collarless neck and his hands roaming all the dips and
swells of my body.
There’s people all around us, drinking, dancing, Doja
Cat’s “Vegas” vibrating through the walls. Somewhere in
the back of my mind I know this isn’t the answer, that
fucking around with Leland isn’t going to erase him
anymore than being glued to the couch for almost three
weeks was, but I’m too drunk to care. We’ve been playing
this cat and mouse game of making out like teenagers but
never going past that for the last week now, and I need to
get laid.
Sex is more than a simple distraction. It’s an escape.
“Leland,” I pant, mewling as his tongue laps over the
swells of my tits. Just a little lower.
“Mmm?” He peeks up at me beneath his dark lashes,
squeezing my ass under the thin material of my dress.
“Your room. Take me to your room,” I demand.
That wicked grin comes out to play, amber gaze slinking
down the length of my body. “What do you wanna see in my
room, Lyric?”
Fisting the front of his burgundy dress shirt, I tug him
impossibly closer, settling my lips beside his ear. “Your dick
in my pussy.”
Leland groans, shuddering ever so slightly against me as
he tightens his hold on my ass. “I knew you were naughty,
but fuck. You wanna do this now?”
“Right now,” I affirm.
He doesn’t need any more convincing. A simple shift of
my dress back to its default state and we’re off, weaving
hand in hand through the masses and up the stairs. The
second we burst through the door of his bedroom, he locks
it behind us and rushes me, scooping me up effortlessly and
walking us toward the bed.
“I’ve been lowkey waiting for this,” he admits between
kisses, depositing me atop the sable duvet of his king size
bed. “Wasn’t sure we’d ever get here.”
Had someone not run for the hills, it wouldn’t have.
“Well, we’re here now.” I slip my panties down my legs and
cross them, watching as he makes quick work of
unbuttoning his shirt and tossing it on the floor behind him.
My jaw drops a little, I won’t even lie. The tattoos are
working for me this time, like really working for me,
especially decorating that body. Arms, shoulders, chest, all
covered in blank in, small pops of color peeking out here
and there. Seeing Leland shirtless in the tabloids is one
thing. Seeing him in person takes my breath away. Kinda
feels like the first time to be honest. It’s not; he was very
much shirtless the night of the pool party, yet for whatever
reason, the sight of him didn’t hit as hard. It’s almost like I
didn’t even notice.
I’m definitely noticing now.
“Do you like, live at the gym ‘cause damn,” I quip,
fingers itching to feel the hard planes of his frame.
Leland chuckles, stare intently trained on the apex of my
thighs. “I actually don’t go enough but, honestly, my gym
schedule is pretty irrelevant right now. Spread your legs for
me, L. Let me see that pretty pussy.”
My legs uncross and part instinctually, allowing him
access to the part of me I thought belonged to one man and
one man only.
Thought being the operative word. I was a fool to
believe as much.
Leland sucks an audible heap of air through his teeth,
palming his cock through his slacks. “You’re seriously all
types of gorgeous,” he rasps as he curls an arm around my
waist and effortlessly shifts me back enough to have his
way.
 His tongue finds its way back into my mouth, his kisses
languid yet purposeful, turning me into fucking mush
beneath him. Down my neck, my chest, he tugs at the
neckline of my little black dress, exposing my breasts for
both his mouth and hands to claim. One side, then other, he
offers them equal attention, fingers tweaking and tugging
the nipple not under assault by that deft tongue. He nips at
one playfully, earning him a hiss of appreciation and a soft
mewl of protest as he continues down the length of my
body, taking my dress with him. Both sounds he likes based
off the amused hum that resounds in his chest.
“Lift your ass, baby. I don’t want a damn thing in the
way when I bury my face in that beautiful cunt.”
Again and purely out of instinct, I do as I’m told, lifting
my lower half up to help him yank my dress down the rest
of the way. It joins our small pile on the floor, leaving me
completely bared and at his disposal. His palms, all too
capable and determined, push at the inside of my thighs,
spreading me wider. And then he’s going in for the kill, the
flat of his tongue dragging from my ass all the way up to
my clit.
My eyes snap shut in bliss, nails raking through the top
of his hair. It’s not long enough for me to grab, a stark
difference to—
No. Hell no. We’re not thinking about him while another
man gets me off. He left me, he let me go, he didn’t want
me. He fucking discarded me. Focus on Leland…
Leland who’s currently going ham on my clit, sucking it,
nipping it, flicking the tip of his tongue against it.
“Yes,” I whisper, rolling my hips against him as my
orgasm builds. “Right there, Le.”
“Mmm.” He pushes two fingers inside me, working them
in and out. “You’re about to be my new favorite obsession, I
can already tell. You taste like fucking candy, L.”
“What kind of candy?” The silly question leaves me on a
breath, hands fisting the sheets.
 “Pink Starburst. Sweet, tangy, superior as fuck,” he
groans, slurping at my now sensitive bud. “I can only
imagine what you’re gonna taste like when you come for
me.”
That’s the last thing I register before he’s really going
for it, head rocking side to side as he doubles his efforts to
bring me to the edge. And right as I approach, ready to
free-fall into euphoria, he fucking stops.
“Nooo!” I all but scream it, flashbacks of the three days I
was denied the right to come rushing to the forefront. It’s
just as painful this time around, my core clenching, pussy
throbbing in agony. “Why? Why did you do that?”
My blues meet his hazels in time to catch him losing his
pants. “‘Cause I want you to come on my dick, that’s why.”
Said big dick is now in his fist, dropping my gaze there
as he strokes himself teasingly. “Le, c’mon, please,” I
whine, slipping a hand between my legs to relieve some of
the pressure. “I need to come.”
“One minute.” Teeth stabbing into his bottom lip, he
holds up a finger, completely ensnared by my every move.
“I can watch you do this all day.”
“I’ll send you a clip later. Wrap up and fuck me already.”
That gets him moving. With a crooked smirk, he
retrieves a condom from his nightstand and rips open the
foil package, rolling the latex in place. “Listen, I’m gonna
need you to not boss me around. I like it a little too much
when it’s coming out of your mouth.”
I wanna tell him that’s the switch in me, that I can bring
him to his knees no problem, but I don’t know what
Leland’s into. Not like that anyway. I don’t have to say
anything, though, ‘cause he’s on me seconds later, running
the tip of his cock through my pussy lips.
“You ready?” he questions.
“Been ready. Give it to me.”
Leland chuckles, low and deep in his throat as he drops
all he weight on his arms and slides in. I gasp, he groans,
nuzzling his face in the crook of my neck. “Jesus Christ,
you’re tight as hell.” Out, and back in, he repeats the
motion, stretching me, filling me.
It’s not enough, though.
Too slow.
Too soft.
“Le, look at me,” I demand, raking my nails up his back
for attention.
He does and goes straight for my mouth, silencing me
with a heated kiss.
“Seriously, look at me.” I’m easing him back, stilling him
inside me as he finally gives me that amber stare.
“You okay? Am I hurting you?”
I shake my head. “No, but I want you to. Put your hand
around my throat, choke me, and fuck me like you hate me.
If I can’t feel you re-arranging my guts, you’re doing it
wrong.”
One of his dark brows quirks. He’s taken aback yet
impressed all at the same time, that much is clear by the
sly grin now lighting up his fine face. “Oh yeah? So it’s like
that?”
“It’s absolutely like that,” I concur.
A blink later and he’s coiling a hand around my neck,
squeezing, his lips more rough as he goes in for another
kiss. Tongue, teeth, he doesn’t hold back, fucking my mouth
in the same skilled frenzy I want him to fuck my pussy. I let
him, eagerly waiting for the moment he snaps and gives me
what I want.
“Yeahhh...” He eases back then, breathless, panty-
melting smile still in place. “You’re definitely my new
obsession. This is gonna be fun.”
ABOUT TWO WEEKS after Leland’s random house party, my
phone pings with a series of texts from Carlie. Each bubble
contains a screenshot and a link.

Cece: [Photo Attachment] Link preview: IS LOVE IN THE

AIR? HOLLYWOOD’S YOUNGEST BACHELOR, LELAND
CORTEZ, AND RISING SUPERMODEL, LYRIC TAYLOR,
SPOTTED LEAVING TONY’S ON THE PIER HAND IN HAND!
Cece: [Photo Attachment] Link preview: IS HOLLYWOOD’S
NOTORIOUS PLAYBOY FINALLY OFF THE MARKET?
Cece: [Photo Attachment] Link preview: THE TWO L’S:
LELAND AND LYRIC. JUST FRIENDS OR LOVEBIRDS IN THE
MAKING?
Cece: [Photo Attachment] Link preview: SPOTTED FOR THE
THIRD TIME THIS WEEK! NOTORIOUS PLAYBOY, LELAND
CORTEZ, AND ACTRESS NICOLETTE LECLAIRE’S DAUGHTER,
LYRIC TAYLOR, OUT AND ABOUT AROUND LOS ANGELES.
Cece: You two are causing waves. Tabloid, social media…
Everywhere I look someone is talking about you. DO YOU
WANT TO EXPLAIN TO ME WTF IS GOING ON?

I roll my eyes at her shouty caps and type out a reply as

Becca, the hair stylist on set, styles my hair to perfection.

Me: Don’t yell at me, bitch. And there’s nothing to talk

about. You know the papz blow everything out of proportion.
Le and I are just having fun.
Cece: Le? You’re calling him Le now. **barfing emoji**
Me: Oh PLEASE. Stop acting like he isn’t fine as hell.
Cece: He might be fine, but he’s a fucking W-O-M-A-N-I-Z-E-
R. I mean, HELLO—did you not read the articles I just sent
you? Does notorious playboy not mean anything to you?
Me: If I was trying to cuff him, yes, but I’m not. Like I said,
we’re just having fun. He’s funny, a good fuck, and he’s
keeping me from going down the “I miss he who we shall
not name” spiral of doom.
Cece: We’re talking about this when I get home.
Me: OKAYYY, Mom. **eye roll emoji**
Cece: Your brat is showing rn and my hand is fuckin’
twitchy. DO NOT START WITH ME.

I send three more eyerolling emojis and the middle

finger because why the fuck not? Pushing Carlie’s buttons
is almost as fun as pushing G—
“Nope,” I whisper to myself, locking my phone. “Not
going there.”
“Not going where?” Becca questions, spritzing a freshly
curled lock of my hair.
Guess I wasn’t whispering after all… “My best friend
wants to go to some club tonight,” I lie. “I’ll be too tired
after the shoot to do much of anything.”
“Are you at least excited about the shoot? Victoria
Secret is a pretty big deal, huh?”
“It is.” I smile. A huge-fucking-deal. “I remember
fawning over the Angels in high school, and now I’m one of
the few with a callback? It’s surreal honestly.”
“I bet,” Becca nods. “Well, I’m rooting for you, girl.
You’re definitely one of the nicer girls I’ve had the pleasure
of dolling up. Most are snobby as fuck. Makes my job
harder than it needs to be.”
“I don’t doubt it for a second.” My mother may not be a
model, but she definitely falls under the entitled snob
category. “Burn their hair off next time. That’ll teach ‘em.”

OceanofPDF.com
 ♫ Train Wreck - James Arthur ♫

SHE’S all over the tabloids…with him—the guy she claimed

was nothing more than a friend. The same one she
promised she’d stay away from. And for as much as it
sickens me with pure unadulterated rage to see them
together, I’ve subscribed to receive various notifications
from said tabloids because, apparently, I’m more of a
fucking masochist than I am sadist.
It’s like a car wreck; you wanna look away, but you can’t
—and trust me, I really can’t.
Every day for the last three weeks there’s been a new
ping to my email, and every day it does nothing but make
me want to set the whole goddamn world on fire. Yeah, I
deserve this, I know I do; no need to remind me. I blew up
our lives for us, and then blew us up into bits, too,
convinced Nicolette was going to shred me to pieces. She
hasn’t, shockingly enough—though I suspect that’s at her
attorney’s discretion in order to make the expedited
divorce feasible—and now the woman my heart still yearns
for with every molecule of my being, the one I could’ve had
if I hadn’t gone running scared, is caught in some
whirlwind love affair with Hollywood’s playboy prick
bachelor.
Like I don’t matter.
Like what we shared doesn’t matter.
Like we never even fucking happened.
Should she act any other way, my subconscious hisses in
question. You told her to go be young and free. You literally
drove her right into his arms, you stupid son of a bi—
“Grayson,” my attorney, Robert, calls out, pulling my
head out of my entire ass. I glance up at him, noting a pen
and paper now sitting in front of me. “We need your
signature on the decree.”
“Oh, right.” He doesn’t have to tell me twice. I sign my
life away faster than I can take my next breath, desperate
to get this over with.
Once we walk out of here, the decree will be sent to the
judge, they’ll sign it, and I’ll finally be free.
Yeah, except now you’ll be free all by your damn self.
Idiot.
I tamp down the gut-wrenching thought and focus on
what’s happening right here and now, which is nothing
more than Nicolette glaring daggers at me from across the
table, and our lawyers explaining that we should have
copies of everything likely some time next week.
We’re dismissed no more than five minutes later. I shake
Robert’s hand, thank him for all his hard work, and head
out of the meeting room toward the elevators feeling some
relief at the fact this will be a done deal here soon. Satan
must be hard at work today, though, because the familiar
ping of my email stops me dead in my tracks, coiling my
stomach uncomfortably as it always does now. With the
same ridiculous speed in which I’ve been opening all of my
emails, I fish my phone from my pocket and blindly swipe at
the notification from none other than TMZ.
And what do you know… First thing I see is the woman
who has me in a chokehold.

IS IT HOT IN HERE OR IS IT JUST US? LYRIC TAYLOR AND

LELAND CORTEZ CAUGHT SHARING AN INTIMATE KISS
UNDER THE CALIFORNIA SUN AS THEY LAY OUT ON
REDONDO BEACH.

Red.
An immediate crimson tinge clouds every spec of my
vision as I zoom in on the photo courtesy of the paparazzi.
Lyric and Leland under a beach umbrella, her in his lap—in
that goddamn pink sparkly bikini—with her tongue down
his throat—again. I have absolutely zero right to be
enraged, none whatsoever, and yet I can’t stop myself from
nearly crushing my phone as I start reading through the
article.

Love is in the air—everywhere we look around…especially

with these two! We all know who Leland Cortez is by now
and it looks like the sought-after playboy has caught the
love bug. Sorry, ladies! Spotted several times over the last
few weeks with up and coming supermodel, Lyric Taylor
(daughter of Oscar Award-winning Actress, Nicolette
Leclaire), these two seem to be getting more cozy as the
days go on.
 I can’t… I can’t read anymore, dropping the phone from
my line of sight as I inhale deep, calming breaths. Or, at
least, they’re meant to be calming…until Nicolette chooses
that very moment to stroll past me with her attorney.
“Why the fuck aren’t you doing anything about this?”
The question makes its way into existence of its own
accord, stopping my soon-to-be ex-wife in her tracks, white
trench coat swinging with the motion.
She cranks her head my way, flashing me the nastiest
look. “Excuse me?”
“Your daughter.” I hold up my phone, allowing her to see
the latest article. “She’s the talk of the town lately.”
“And what is that any of your business?” she carps back,
shooing me off like her daughter’s safety and well-being
isn’t a concern. “Publicity is publicity. She damn well needs
the exposure if she’s going to keep climbing up the ladder.”
“Not with him she doesn’t. He’ll ruin her. The kid
doesn’t exactly have a stellar repu—”
“Spare me your concerns, Grayson, please. She’s my
daughter and I don’t see anything wrong with who she’s
choosing to spend her time with. Leland’s a nice boy and
Lyric’s a big girl. She knows how to handle herself if need
be.” And with that, she takes off, leaving me standing in the
middle of my lawyer's office feeling more incensed than I
was moments ago.
She doesn’t care.
She never fucking cares.
A monumental reminder that I did the right thing by
finally calling it quits. Now if only I’d just stuck with the
plan and held on tight, I’d still have my girl, my Princess,
and I wouldn’t be having to worry about some asshole
putting his grubby little paws all over her.
Or possibly breaking her heart.
He’s probably mending it since, you know, you already
did that.
Dick.
CAN A PLAYBOY BE TAMED? EXCLUSIVE IMAGES OF LYRIC
AND LELAND STROLLING RODEO DRIVE!

LYRIC AND LELAND: PUBLICITY STUNT OR TRUE LOVE?

WE CAN HEAR THE CRIES FROM HERE. SORRY, LADIES!

LOOKS LIKE LELAND CORTEZ MIGHT BE TURNING IN HIS
PLAYBOY HAT.

SPOTTED BOATING IN ECHO LAKE PARK! THESE EXCLUSIVE

PHOTOS OF LELAND AND LYRIC ARE SICKENINGLY SWEET!

YOU THINK IT. WE SAY IT. LYRIC IS DOOMED. A NOTORIOUS

PLAYBOY LIKE LELAND CAN’T BE TIED OUT UNLESS YOU
HAVE A MAGICAL…WELL, YOU KNOW.

ONE SECOND there’s a glass in my hand…and the next it’s

meeting the nearest wall.
Third one in the last week.
I can’t take this.
I’m too weak.
Too lonely. Tired. Full of rage, regret, longing.
And you know what?
I deserve it.

OceanofPDF.com
 ♫ bad idea - Ariana Grande ♫

“WE’RE SUPPOSED to be watching the movie,” I giggle,

trying my damndest to fend off a shirtless Leland from our
place on the couch as his tongue tickles my neck.
“Supposed to be are the keywords there, baby. Netflix
and Chill usually means the movie is background noise.
Besides, you’ve been teasing the fuck out of me all week
with those damn pictures. Consider this payback,” he
growls playfully, fusing our lips together.
The softest moan vibrates in my throat as I lock my arms
around his neck and my legs around his waist. ‘We have to
stop.”—Kiss—“Carlie will be home any minute now.”
 “She can join too, if she wants.” He waggles his
eyebrows, and I swear I feel my entire face wrinkle up.
Not ‘cause it’s Carlie, my best friend is a stunner, but at
his expense. She cannot stand him. “Would be a cold day in
hell, I’ll tell you that right now. That girl will step on you.”
Leland laughs, and I mean like throws his head back,
howls kinda laugh. “Oooh, my timbers are shivered.”
“They should be,” I chuckle. “‘Cause I’m serious. Like
platform fuck-me heels right on your throat. She doesn’t
fuck around.”
“Sounds kinky.” His eyebrows wiggle again as he rolls
into me, the barriers of our clothes dulling the possible
friction. “Roleplay is fun. I like it.”
“You won’t like it when you can’t breathe,” Carlie’s voice
sounds off from the kitchen, widening my eyes as Leland’s
head snaps up to meet her stare.
She’s like a fucking ninja, seriously. I didn’t even hear
her come in through the garage door.
“Hey Cece,” Leland greets, completely disregarding her
threat.
“Don’t call me that,” she deadpans, glaring at me as I
shove Leland off and sit up right. “That’s a friends only
name.”
“Oh, c’mon, we’re friends.” He flashes her that panty-
melting grin, but she’s immune to it, rolling her eyes to the
heavens and back as she tosses her keys onto the island.
“We’re acquaintances.”
“Same difference,” he insists.
“It’s really not,” she scoffs.
Leland leans into me then, cupping his hand around my
ear to whisper, “I don’t think she likes me.”
Yeah, no shit.
I had to hear all about it last week after the Victoria
Secret shoot. She went nuclear, told me I was being
reckless and irresponsible. And I mean, yeah, maybe I am…
but it’s better than the alternative. It’s better than sitting
on this very couch for another handful of weeks, wallowing
over a man who gave me everything I ever wanted and then
let me go when the going got tough. Leland is no Gra—well,
you know, and he may not be my usual type, but it’s like I
told Carlie…we’re having fun.
I need fun now more than ever.
“Why don’t you like me, Cece?” Leland questions
animatedly, tattooed arms leaned over the back of the
couch as my best friend starts for the stairs.
Starts is the operative word because the way she freezes
and slowly cranes her head to look him in the eye racks a
shiver down my spine. “‘Cause you’re a fuckboy, that’s why,
and my best friend can do so much better than you.”
“How am I a fuckboy?” he presses, nothing but
amusement dancing in his tone.
A fact Carlie is not remotely fond of, her face taking on
that slightly irate crimson tinge. “Oh, please, Leland, don’t
act stupid. After you broke up with Stella, you’ve fucked
everything within a… You know what? I can’t even give it a
mile radius, ‘cause I’m sure you’ve bagged plenty of out of
town pussy, too.”
Le hitches a shoulder. “Still don’t see how that makes
me a fuckboy.”
“Are your intentions clear when you sleep with these
girls? Do they know it’s a one and done kinda thing or do
you string them along and get their hopes up?”
“The former.”
Carlie scoffs mirthlessly and sends her eyes for another
spin. “Highly doubt that. You wouldn’t have the notorious
playboy tag attached to your name if that was the case.”
“I’m trying to squash it here,” he insists, motioning
between him and I. “Don’t you see me spending time with
your best friend? If all I wanted was pussy, I would’ve told
her as much. I actually like her, Cece.”
But as always, Carlie isn’t buying it. If anything, his
choice of words only makes her dislike him that much
more. “We’ve already had this discussion, but be careful
with him, will you?” She’s looking at me as she says this.
“I’ll be upstairs until he’s gone.” And with that, she
disappears, leaving me with a still-grinning Leland.
Our eyes meet as he turns back to me and plants his ass
on the couch. Time passes for just a beat or two and when I
don’t rush to say anything, unsure of what to say after him
claiming this isn’t so casual for him, he hooks a thumb over
his shoulder. “You want me to go? I don’t wanna start shit
between you guys.”
My gaze flicks to the start of the staircase where my
best friend was just moments ago. An image of a stewing
Carlie, probably pacing her room while she’s at it, forms at
the forefront of my mind. I don’t wanna start shit with her,
either; last thing I need is to be on the outs with my best
friend over a guy, and given my track record with dudes my
age, she’s right to be so against the idea of me and Leland
in any capacity. But as my best friend, she also knows how I
operate, how my brain ticks. Doesn’t she realize a
distraction is more than necessary?
Without Le I’d be a mess.
“I can meet you at your house in a couple hours?” I offer.
“I just wanna talk to her first. Make sure she’s good.”
“That works.” Leaning in, he grasps my chin and sets a
soft kiss to my lips. “You should spend the night, too.”
My stomach instantly churns. We haven’t done the whole
spend the night thing before, and I don’t know if I’m ready
for that. “I’ll see where Cece’s head’s at and let you know.”
“Sounds good to me.” Another chaste kiss and he’s
rising to full height, nabbing his shirt off the floor and
slipping it over his head as he makes his way out the door.
I lock it behind him, not bothering to watch him pull out
of the driveway, and race upstairs like a bat out of hell.
Carlie’s laying sideways on her bed watching TV when I
push through her door without so much as a knock. Her
light brown eyes cut my way, then back to whatever she’s
watching. “He gone?”
“Yeah, he just left.”
She nods and pats the space beside her.
I pad my way over and collapse face first onto the
proffered slice of her bed, sighing deeply. The sweltering
waves rolling off her only tell me we’re about to get into
this again.
“Can I ask you something?”
Anddd here we go. A muffled “Mhmm” blasts from my
throat against her crisp white sheets.
“Why are you doing this to yourself?”
I let that question hang in the air for a few moments
before smooshing my cheek to the bed, my blues dragging
up to meet her awaiting stare. “Doing what?”
“Setting yourself up for more heartbreak.” she states.
Do not roll your eyes, do not roll your eyes. “I’m not.”
“You are, though. You’re spending a lot of time with
him.”
I am, she’s right, but… “I need a distraction. You know
this.”
Carlie’s face drops into that flatly dubious expression
that screams really bitch? “A distraction is letting him rail
you for an hour and coming home. You’re with him for
hours on end, popping up all over the headlines, kissing,
holding hands, giving off the impression you’re dating.”
I sit up then, criss-crossing my legs. An action she
follows and mirrors, too. “An hour a day isn’t going to keep
me sane. The only way to block him out is if—”
Quick hands seize my face, obliterating what was left of
my rebuttal. “I love you, L, I really fucking do, but suck. It.
Up.” She shakes me then, her gaze austere and
unwavering. “You gave that man all of you and he let you
go like the dumbass he is. Move on, baby girl. He’s not
worth you looking like a complete idiot for the sake of a
distraction. You want a distraction? I’ll whip your little ass
into shape if you want me to.”
“I’m good,” I chuckle. “Not a fan of the whip.”
“Crop, flogger, paddle, quirt, tawse, a belt—you name it,
I’ve got it. Take your fucking pick.”
“I hate you,” I grumble, though I’m laughing through it
as always.
“You love me, hush it.” She grins and gives me another
shake before releasing me. “I’m serious, though. Leland is
not worth what you think you need. There’s other ways to
distract yourself and move on. I don’t want him breaking
what’s left of your heart.”
How, though? How else am I going to distract myself?
How am I just supposed to move on? I’ve never felt like this
before, never been this torn down by a break-up that I feel
gutted, hopeless, like I’ll never love again. Hanging out
with Leland for the last month has given me something to
look forward to, something to pull myself out of bed for.
But in the same hand, the more I think about it, allowing
my best friend’s words to really sink in, the more I can
understand her point of view. He has the playboy, highly-
sought after bachelor rep, and while most of the tabloids
are waiting on pins and needles for us to announce we’re
an item, there’s some already predicting our downfall. How
he’ll play me, use me, break me. Some even think it’s a
publicity stunt. I wanna believe he wouldn’t do that to me,
but what makes me any more special than the other girls
he’s left crying in his wake once he got his fill…
“I told him I’d come over later,” I admit, suddenly
second-guessing my decision.
Carlie drops her head back in instant frustration.
“Ughhh, seriouslyyy?”
“I can break it off then, though. We’ll have one last
hurrah, and then I’ll tell him we need to take a beat, keep it
friendly rather than sexual.” Not that I think it’s going to be
easy—I hate confrontation—but he should understand…
Right?
You sure about that? He just finished telling your best
friend he likes you…
“Do you really need to fuck him again?” said best friend
cuts through my introspection.
“Need? No. Want to? Yes, especially if I’m not going to
be getting any for a hot minute.”
That unamused, dubious expression returns, her lips
pursing, auburn head cocking aside and all.
He’s a good fuck, okay?” I laugh. “Not exactly kinky, but
not vanilla, either. He’s equipped and he knows what he's
doing with it.”
“‘Cause he’s a fuckboy. That’s why they’re called,” she
makes a rainbow with her hands, “fuckboys. They lure you
in with their devil dick and keep you coming back for
more.”

“OH, GOD, YES!” I moan, eyes clamped shut as Leland’s

thumb working my clit gives me that final push into the
sweet depths of euphoria. “I’m coming, I’m coming!”
“Fuck yes, scream for me, baby.” His thrusts borderline
punishing, evoking the exact sound he wants as he hits the
deepest part of me over and over again. “You’re so
goddamn beautiful when you come, L. I’m right behind
you.”
We fall apart within seconds of each other, his cock
throbbing inside me as my walls clamp down around him,
milking him dry. I can’t feel him spilling inside me with the
latex in place, but I can tell by the way he stills, the way he
bares his teeth and throws his dark head back. As we both
float down from the high, he collapses beside me and pulls
me onto his chest, running his fingers through my hair.
“I could fuck you all day, seriously. So fucking good,” he
pants, a smile clear as day in his voice.
A lazy grin slides across my face, too, until…
What makes me more special than the other girls he’s
left crying in his wake once he got his fill?
Does he tell them all this? Does he make them feel like
they’re his favorite new toy, never to be discarded like the
ones that came before?
“Can we talk?” I blurt, sitting up beside him as that post-
coital glow morphs into unpleasant thoughts and a heaping
dose of instant regret.
“Of course.” He leans up on his elbows. “What’s on your
mind?”
That I’m probably an idiot. That I never should’ve
started this with you. That I should’ve been stronger and
taken up a new hobby rather than letting you fuck me
through the despair. “I think we should maybe take a beat.”
The suggestion leaves me on a whisper and kinda just floats
around for a beat or two before he sits up, the ebony sheets
pooled at his waist.
“What? Why?”
“The papz are all over us all the time, making it look like
this is more serious than it is, and—”
“What do you mean more serious than it is?” he snaps.
“I wasn’t joking when I told Cece I like you.”
But is that what you tell all of them?
“I…like you, too, Le,” I force out, “but I’m not looking to
be in a relationship right now.”
Now or anytime soon, really.
Leland hops out of bed, yanking the used condom off his
dick and tossing it in the trash near his nightstand. “So
what was the whole point of this then?” He motions
between him and I.
 “Two friends having fun?” I quip lightly, shoulders
hitching through a shrug.
Brows pinching, that usually warm amber stare narrows
more by the second. “Are you kidding me right now?”
I shake my head, honestly astonished he’s reacting this
way.
“I’ve spent nearly every day with you for what? An
entire month? And now you wanna sit there and tell me
we’re just friends?”
“I mean, are we not friends?”
“We were friends, up until about a minute ago,” he leers.
“Guess Carlie finally brainwashed you enough into siding
with her, huh?”
Fuck.
“Le, c’mon, don’t be like this,” I implore him, scooting to
the edge of his bed. “You’re not the relationship type
anyway. You like your freedom.”
“And I was willing to give that up for you ‘cause I liked
you, Lyric. I wanted to be with you. Yet here you were just
using me for a quick fuck the whole time.”
“I wasn’t using you!” I rush to say, but he’s already
checked out, holding up a resentful hand.
“Of course, you weren’t.” He rolls his eyes, stalking into
the en suite bathroom. “You can get the fuck out now.”
I’m seriously mind blown as I rise off the bed and throw
my clothes back on. Why is he taking this so hard? He
jumps from girl to girl all the time, always has a new flavor
of the week. It makes no sense.
Maybe you were special, that little voice in my head
suggests. I mean, he was willingly spending time with you,
was down to do whatever you wanted to do…
No, there’s no way. “There’s no fucking way,” I whisper
to myself, gathering my purse off the ottoman in front of his
bed and quickly padding over the bathroom.
He’s leaned up against the counter, arms crossed, the
shower already running.
 “I’m sorry,” I tell him softly, but he doesn’t spare me a
glance, keeping his stare trained firmly on the wall.
“Yeah, me too.” And that’s all he offers before jumping in
the shower, leaving me to show myself out.

Unknown: I wasn’t going to say anything because it’s not

my place, but what are you doing, Lyric?
Unknown: You’re not a stupid girl. You have to know this
guy does not have your best interests at heart.
Unknown: Just take a look at his track record. It’ll tell you
everything you need to know.
Unknown: Why aren’t you answering me?
Unknown: Look, I know I’m the last person you want to
speak to, rightfully so. Just tell me you’re being careful.
Please.

HEART RATE THRASHING in my ears, I read and re-read the

texts displayed on my screen, my car still idling in Leland’s
driveway. Despite the lack of a contact name, I know it’s
him, and the knowledge that he’s been watching me both
angers me while simultaneously sparking this ridiculously
stupid little flame of hope. And yet as much as I wanna
reply, curious to see where his head’s at and what might
come from a conversation all these weeks later—I don’t. I
simply drive home, holding back the tears that want to
stream free, because he’s the reason I just hurt Leland’s
feelings.
And unlike him, I don’t particularly enjoy bringing
people pain.

OceanofPDF.com
 ♫ feel something - Bea Miller ♫

IT’S OFFICIAL.
My mom and Grayson are legally divorced.
She spoke out about it this morning via her Instagram in
some ridiculously long-winded “heartbroken” post, which of
course, has spread like wildfire. Half the comments are
those leaving positive messages, and the others…well,
they’re dragging Grayson through the mud, calling him
every name in the book. I will agree he deserves some of
them, but maybe that’s my petty side showing after
receiving his random ass texts a few nights ago.
 Me though… I haven’t commented in her support and I
don’t plan to. For one, her post is obviously bullshit, but it’s
mostly because things are still rather rocky with us after I
not only refused to leave with her the night everything
happened, but then refused to move in with her when she
came back from Renee’s, too. We’ve exchanged texts here
and there, a few phone calls, but I haven’t made an effort to
spend time with her and vice versa. Sadly enough, it
doesn’t make a difference to me. It’s not like we were
attached at the hip prior to her divorce.
“Cece!” I call out as I close the front door behind me,
carefully setting my purse on the foyer table to avoid
jacking up my freshly manicured nails.
“In the kitchen!”
Slipping out of my flip flops, I quickly scurry toward the
sound of her voice, opening up Instagram to show her my
mom’s pity party for one. “Dude, did you see what my mom
posted earlier this morning?”
“No.” she shakes her head, her face slightly pale,
solemn. “‘Cause I’ve been too busy looking at the other
thing.”
One of my brows heave in question. “What other thing?”
My best friend doesn’t say a word, staring at me like she
can’t believe I don’t know what she’s referring to. “Why are
you looking at me like that? What are you talking about?”
Ambling around the island, she pulls one of the stools
out and motions for me to park my ass. “I need you to sit
down.”
“Why?”
“Just sit.”
“Okayyy,” I drawl, doing as I’m told. “Why though?”
She drops into the stool beside me, clutching her phone
to her chest. “I’m gonna show you something, but I need
you to not freak out.”
My heart sinks, core cinching almost painfully as bile
rushes up my throat. “Oh, God, what is it? Please don’t tell
me Grayson is dating someone.” I won’t be able to handle
that, not by a long shot. The sight of him with someone else
would be—
Carlie shakes her head, though, her plum-stained lips
thinned, which only makes me nauseous and completely
unsettled.
With shaky hands, my palms now clammy as all hell, I
set my phone onto the island and scoot closer to my best
friend. “What is it then? Show me.”
And the second she flips her device toward me, I
immediately wish she hadn’t.

OceanofPDF.com
 ♫ Can You Feel My Heart - Bring Me The Horizon ♫

HEART POUNDING, pulse speeding, my entire body

trembles. All I see is red as I scroll through the post titled
“She says we’re just friends, but I swear when nobody’s
around” for what’s probably the millionth time. There’s
images, nudes to be exact, and a one-minute clip I’ll never
be able to get out of my mind…
“Oh, God, yes!” she moans, that familiar tattooed hand
hovering over her mound, his thumb rubbing her clit. “I’m
coming, I’m coming!”
“Fuck yes, scream for me, baby,” he grits, thrusting into
her harder, faster, the sounds of their skin slapping in
perfect unison with her sounds of pleasure. “You’re so
goddamn beautiful when you come, L. I’m right behind
you.”
With a guttural roar ripping free from my chest, I flip
the fucking desk. I don’t even have time to think about it,
much less talk myself down from the ledge. I just flip it. My
desktop monitor, my laptop, my phone, everything crashes
onto the floor in my office as blinding rage consumes me
from head to toe.
This is all my fault.
This is all my fucking fault.
The chair is next, tossed into the wall without care. The
same wall that meets the brunt of my wrath as I send my
fist into it once, twice, three times.
Four.
Five.
I’m going in for the sixth, my chest heaving, knuckles
singing, when two things happen. Blood smeared on the
now massive dent in the drywall catches my attention at
the very same moment a horrified Nora comes bursting
through my door. She takes one look at me and the war
zone behind me and pales impossibly more.
“Is… Is everything okay, Mr. Kane?” her voice quivers
almost as much as I am.
Does everything look okay to you almost comes
barreling out of my mouth, but I force myself to inhale a
deep, steadying breath instead. “Get me Robert Varner on
the phone, now.”
“Yes, sir, but what if he’s bu—”
“Tell him or his secretary or whoever the hell answers
that Grayson Kane needs to speak to him immediately,” I
growl.
“Yes, sir.” She nods dutifully and disappears before I can
thank her, leaving me to deal with the aftermath of my
temper, the small gashes on my knuckles included.
 First-aid will need to wait, though, until after I have a
quick chat with my attorney.
Licking the busted skin clean, the sharp metallic tang of
my blood blasting over my tastebuds, I start with the desk,
situating it in its rightful spot. The chair is next, then all the
crap on the floor. Dropping to my haunches, I take
inventory of all the items. My phone is salvaged thanks to
the Otterbox case. My laptop, however, is fucked, half the
LED screen blacked out. And the desktop monitor, well,
that thing seemed to make it through unscathed, too, still
hanging on for dear life by the cord attached to the system
unit.
“Mr. Kane?” Nora’s voice rings out from the doorway,
snapping my head her way. “Mr. Varner’s on line two.”
The console’s at my feet, the attached phone strewn out
of its slot from impact. Reaching for it, I hit the now
blinking line two and lift it to my ear. “Robert.”
“Grayson, your assistant said it was an emergency. How
can I help you?”
“Nicolette’s daughter seems to have gotten herself in
quite the pickle and I need your help to rectify it stat.”
“What’s going on?”
“She got involved with the wrong guy and he’s,
apparently, thrown some of her pictures and a clip he took
of them having sex on a revenge porn site called
REVENGEHUB.”
“Woah, that is quite the pickle.”
“It is, and I want it all gone. I don’t care what you have
to do, who you have to threaten, or how much I have to pay
you—I want it all gone by the end of the day.”
“SITE OWNER’S name is Hayden Steel,” Robert says, an hour
into this mess. “And he’s refusing to take it down because
it’s Lyric. Says he doesn’t know when he’ll ever have
something this big land on the site again and removing it
will hurt the mass influx of traffic.”
Mass. Influx. Of. Traffic.
I almost flip the fucking desk all over again, slamming
my fist onto the hard surface as I force myself to breathe
through the rush of fury throttling through my veins. Just
imagining the amount of people who’ve seen this video has
me feeling homicidal.
This is all my fault. I should’ve never let her go.
“Ask him how much he wants. I’ll have it in his account
before he can so much as blink.”
“I did, but he wouldn’t give me an exact number. Just
said he needs to be properly compensated and he’ll think
about it,” my attorney clarifies.
And he’ll think about it?
He’ll think about it?
Breathe, Grayson. Fucking breathe.
“A hundred-thousand,” I grit, shooting up from my chair.
“I’m leaving the office. Call me on my cell when you hear
back from him.”
Click.

“HE LAUGHED AND SAID NOT ENOUGH,” Robert’s voice

filter’s in through the Bugatti’s speakers less than ten
minutes later.
Of course he did, the little prick.
My grip on the wheel tightens, knuckles white as snow.
“Five-hundred-thousand.”
 “You sure you wanna go that low still? I think he’s going
to—” My attorney’s voice cuts off for a moment as the
incoming call ping nearly ruptures my eardrums.
Eyes flicking toward the screen, I nearly swerve off the
road at the sight of her name.
“Give him the number and call me back.” Smashing my
thumb against the steering wheel, I end Robert’s call and
answer the other line. “What do you want?” I bark at my
ex-wife.
“Grayson,” she breathes in a panic. “I need your help.”
Why don’t you ask your man for help?
“With?” I know what. I just want to hear her say as
much.
“Lyric. You were right about Leland. I guess she broke
things off with him and he threw her on some terrible porn
site to spite her!” she wails. “She didn’t even know he was
recording it! I don’t know what to do!”
I want to tell her I’m already handling it, that she can go
on about her life and not worry about her daughter like she
always does, but then she might question the why behind
it. I have way too damn much on my plate right now to tack
on an inquisition that is, essentially, pointless since we’re
no longer together.
“Start by being a mother and telling your daughter to
stop sending nude photos to little boys. She should’ve
known better.”
Click.

I’M STRIPPING out of my work clothes when my phone

blares on the bed. In nothing but briefs, I answer the call
and set it on speaker. “What’s the verdict?”
 “Another no,” my attorney reports. “I hate to say it,
Grayson, but I told you so. These types of sites run off pure
hatred and greed.”
“Jesus fucking Christ.” I pinch the bridge of my nose,
expelling a beyond frustrated sigh. “One mil. I’ll give the
motherfucker one mil.”
Along with my soul and whatever the fuck else he wants
to take this shit down. An arm? A fucking kidney? Stocks?
Done. It’s been up long enough.
And it’s all your fault, my subconscious berates. The
world has seen your little brat and all her naughty princess
parts because you pussied out. You drove her straight into
Cortez’ arms and now he’s, ultimately, using his revenge
against her for his gain.
Won’t be much for him to gain when I rip him to shreds.
I swear to God I will.

“TEN MIL OR NO DEAL,” Robert imparts, exhaustion clear as

day in his voice.
We’ve been back and forth with this Hayden Steel dick
for the last four hours and I’m ready to yank every single
hair out of my head. He wouldn’t take the mil, so I offered
five. Then he disappeared for two fucking hours,
presumably to keep that traffic flowing, and now he’s
finally come back with a counter-offer of ten.
Ten-million dollars.
That’s a day’s worth of pay for me. I can swing it no
problem and I’ll gladly make it rain where Lyric is
concerned, but really? The five wasn’t good enough?
“Done.” I knock back my third bourbon, the glass
clicking and almost shattering against the marble
countertop. “Get his information. Let him know, however,
he’s only getting half until everything is removed. Once it’s
gone, then he’ll get the rest.”
“I was just going to suggest the same,” my attorney
concedes. “I’m on it.”
“And Robert?” I stop him before he hangs up, earning
me a hum. “When all of this is said and done, draft up
whatever you need to run Leland Cortez in the ground. I
want that playboy prick to regret the day he was born.”

OceanofPDF.com
 ♫ Talking to the Moon - Bruno Mars ♫

IT’S LATE, I’m buzzed, and I shouldn’t be here.

But I am, smashing my thumb into the doorbell…
because if Nicolette had the balls to reach out to me after
all the bullshit she blasted on social media, I know she was
desperate. And that desperation likely stemmed from her
daughter losing her mind.
The daughter I’m still very much in love with and would
give anything to reclaim.
Which is why now that Hayden made good on his
promise and removed everything off that godforsaken site,
I have to make sure she’s okay. Texts are pointless given
she won’t respond, and that wouldn’t be enough for me
anyway. Anyone can put up a front through text messages
or a simple phone call.
No, I need to see it for myself. See her. Tell her how
sorry I am and how colorless my world is without her.
Why would she want to see you? Based on her lack of a
reply, I’d say she—
“What the hell are you doing here?” a familiar snarky
redhead growls, confirming the fact that I’m one-hundred
percent unwelcome.
“I need to see her,” I state.
Carlie scoffs a laugh and shakes her head in disbelief.
“The only thing you’re going to be seeing is this door in
your face. Get the fuck off my porch, Grayson.” And she
does, in fact, start closing said door, but I whip an arm out,
blocking the door jam.
“Please, Carlie. I know today was hell on Earth for her. It
was for me, too.”
“Good, I’m glad, ‘cause it’s your fault. You do realize
that, right?”
I nod, feeling ten sizes smaller under her scrutinizing
glare. This girl is honest to God scary sometimes.
“Had you kept your promise, none of this would’ve ever
happened. I mean, not only did you tell her you loved her,
you fucking collared her, and then you let her go because
Nicolette threw a hissy fit when you called it quits? Please.
You’re no Dom. You’re a weak as fuck beta bitch of a man,”
she sneers, nothing but pure venom laced in her tone.
Ouch.
My ego takes a massive hit, but I welcome it, allowing it
to sink in and fester. “I deserved that,” I admit. “And I know
I fucked up, royally, but you have to let me see her. I need
her to know I spent all day working to get it taken down.”
“Oh, how chivalrous of you.” She sets a hand to her
chest and rolls her eyes. “I’ll be sure to relay the message.”
 Again, she attempts to close the door, but I push my arm
in further. “Carlie, please, I beg of you. I don’t need to
come inside. I just need to look at her when I tell her I got
everything removed and apologize for my role in all of
this.”
“We’re past the acceptable apology period, Grayson,”
she leers. “You had your chance to turn this around, but
you disappeared and left her to grieve you without any real
explanation. It’s a damn good thing she had me to look
after her, otherwise, she’d be in worse shape. Now get the
fuck off my porch, seriously.”
“Five minutes,” I blurt, refusing to move out of the way.
“Just give me five minutes with her.” It’s not nearly enough
time, but it’ll have to do.
“Zero. You get zero minutes. I’m not letting her
anywhere near—”
“Cece,” her voice calls softly. I nearly swallow my tongue
at the sound of it. “I got this.”
Carlie turns her auburn head away from the door, using
her body as a shield. “L, no. You’ve had enough bullshit for
one day.”
“I can handle it,” Lyric insists.
“No, you can’t,” the redhead stresses.
“We’ll never know if you don’t let me try.”
“Lyric, c’mon, be smart here. The last thing you need is
to see that man who broke your heart after the shitshow we
had to—”
“I am being smart. I never got closure. Maybe this is
what I need.”
No… Closure. She wants closure. That’s the last fucking
thing I want…
“Ughhh, fine,” Carlie settles, removing herself from the
door. “You get five minutes, though, and if I so much as
hear your voice crack, I will slam this door in his face.”
A series of whispers ensues before Lyric finally appears
where her best friend was just moments ago. All the air just
about leaves my lungs as I get my first look at her in two
months, and to be honest, she looks like hell. Still beautiful
in my eyes, but it’s clear the events of the day—and our
break up—have taken a huge toll on her.
“Hi,” her voice meets my ears in a soft caress. She won’t
look me in the eyes, though, and I hate it.
I want her to look at me, to see me, to see the shame
and remorse undoubtedly etched into every inch of my
face.
“Hi.”
“How’ve you been?”
I shrug despite the fact she’s still looking at the red
stones of the porch. “Existing, barely. Living with constant
regret.”
Lyric nods but doesn’t say anything, and again, I hate it.
I hate this. Hate the distance, the keen sense of anguish
emanating off her. Hate the fact that I just wanna wrap my
arms around her, kiss her senseless, and apologize until I
stitch back every piece of her heart back together.
“I’m not going to ask you to talk about what happened.
It’s not my business. I just wanted you to know I spent a
good majority of the day with my attorney trying to get it
all taken down. It wasn’t easy, I’ll tell you that. The little
prick who runs the site is a greedy bastard. Ten mil later,
though, and it’s gone.”
Her blonde head snaps up then, blue eyes widened like
saucers. “I’m sorry, did you just say ten million dollars?”
I nod.
Perfectly shaped eyebrows nearly become one with her
hairline as her gaze narrows ever so slightly. “Are you
insane?”
Yes.
“Some might think so, yes. I would’ve paid more had he
asked for it,” I admit. Twenty, thirty, fifty million. Whatever
it would’ve taken.”
 A brief silence hovers between us as she absorbs that
information. “Why would you do that?” she probes
incredulously.
“Because I knew your mother sure as fuck wasn’t going
to and there was no way in hell I was leaving that up for all
the world to see.”
Lyric scoffs, but it’s not in anger. It’s more resigned than
anything else. “Too bad the entire world already saw it.”
“And for that, I’m sorry; really and truly.” My chest
aches as I say this, ready to burst at the seams with a vast
amount of self-loathing swimming through my being, more
than I think she could ever understand. “I can’t tell you
how sorry I am.”
“Why would you be sorry? You’re not the one who
uploaded all that stuff.”
“I’m not, no, but if I’d never been stupid enough to let
you go, you never would’ve gotten involved with him.”
“Don’t blame yourself,” she’s quick to offer, waving me
off. “You’re not Leland. Had I known he was this childish, I
never would’ve given him a chance to be my distraction.”
My head rears at that one little word. “Distraction?”
She bobs hers in reply.
“Distraction from what?” I press.
“From you.” She lifts her blues to me then and all I can
see are twin oceans of sorrow.
Desolation.
Grief.
All things I put there.
“That’s all he was? A distraction?” I rasp, despising
myself even more.
“I damn well needed one,” she chuckles mirthlessly.
“After three weeks on the couch, I’d had enough. The only
way to shut you out was to have someone else occupy my
time.”
The only way to shut me out… Fuck. “Do I even want to
know what three weeks on the couch means?”
 Lyric hitches her shoulders, fiddling with the doorknob.
“Pillow, blanket, TV, all day, every day. Minimal food. Poor
sleep. Endless tears.”
I suck in a heap of air, my cheek smarting in tandem
with my gut roiling as though the gravity of my actions
both slapped me across the face and kneed me in the nuts.
Hard. “I… I don’t even know what to say.”
“There’s nothing to say. It is what it is.” She shrugs
again. “Thank you, though.”
Thank you? “For?”
“For today,” she clarifies. “You didn’t have to go through
all that trouble, let alone pay up that much money for my
fuck up. I’ll pay you back one day, I promise.”
And just like that, my temper flares, the blood in my
veins bubbling in a steady simmer at there mention of her
paying me back. “Don’t you dare. I don’t need or want you
to repay me. I’d do it all over again if I had to. We’re
already working on a suit against Leland, too. He’s not
getting away with this.”
“Grayson, you don’t have to—”
Sucker punch number two. Or is it three? Five? Ten? “I
hate the way that sounds,” I croak, hands balling into fists
at my sides, my nails digging into my palms as I clamp my
eyes shut.
“What?” she hedges.
“My name coming out of your mouth.”
“Why? That’s your name.”
“That’s not the name I want to hear.” Daddy, Daddy,
Daddy. That’s my fucking name. I’m Daddy, you’re Prin—
“Well, that’s your fault,” she carps.
“I know.” I nod, my gaze now trained on the welcome
mat beneath my feet. “I know it is. If I could take it back, if
I could go back in time to change it, I’d do it in a
heartbeat.”
Another bout of silence arises save the nightly sounds of
crickets and toads. Unlike the first, this one goes on for
quite some time, stretching uncomfortably, a reminder of
my faults.
My stupidity.
How I’ve irrefutably lost her.
“Did you mean it?” she finally asks, cutting my greens
up to meet her stare.
“Mean what?”
“When you told me you loved me?”
Yes, yes, yes! “With every fiber of my being. I still do,
more than you can possibly understand.”
“Then why did you do this?” she wonders, her words
thick with emotion. “Why did you discard me like I didn’t
mean shit to you?”
“I didn’t discard you.” I take a step toward her, but she
moves back. “Your mother was just so angry. I could all but
see the vengeance brewing in her eyes. I thought she was
going to do everything in her power to dr—”
“I would’ve stood beside you and fought till the end,”
she grates, though her voice trembles. “I would’ve fought
for you. For us.”
“That wasn’t your fight, baby. It was—”
“Don’t call me that.” Another step back as she lifts her
chin indignantly. “You don’t get to call me that anymore.”
“It slipped, I’m sorry.”
“I am, too, ‘cause things could be so different if you
hadn’t ruined it.” Like her best friend, she makes way to
close the door, but I’m reaching for her, sealing a hand
around her wrist.
“Let me fix it then. Give the chance to fix it,” I plead
softly, only for her to wriggle free and rock her head side to
side.
“It’s too late, Grayson.”
“No, it’s not,” I insist, panic and desperation clear in my
tone. “I know you still feel this, Lyric. I know you do.”
She has to.
 “I do,” she concedes, “but I can’t… I… I can’t do this
again.”
“I’ll get on my knees and beg, I’m not above it,” I confer,
literally dropping to my knees in front of her, gazing up at
her pleadingly.
“You better do more than beg if you’re on your knees,
Kane!” Carlie calls out in the background…two seconds
before the door finally shuts in my face and I’m left
crumbling in her wake.

OceanofPDF.com
 ♫ Don’t Blame Me - Taylor Swift ♫

IT’S BEEN three days since Grayson showed up at the front

door and I’ve been a wreck, riding one hell of an emotional
rollercoaster. One second I’m fine, the next I’m sobbing,
twenty minutes later I’m positively furious at the fact that
he thought a simple I’m sorry was going to magically repair
what he so carelessly broke.
And then I’m in tears all over again because I still love
him, because he came to my rescue while my mom, Carlie,
and I were all running around like chickens with our heads
cut off, unsure of what to do, much less where to start.
But he did.
 He knew.
He was in the background, silently working his ass off
and paying millions of dollars to have Leland’s petty act of
revenge rectified—and he succeeded.
Part of me wants to say that’s more than enough to take
him back, to let him back into my life, but Carlie won’t
allow it. She says that doesn’t count, that it’s the least he
could’ve done after breaking my heart and that if I’m going
to give him another chance, he needs to really work for it,
grovel, prove how fucking sorry he is.
So when a bouquet of forty-five pink roses shows up on
our doorstep—yes, I counted—with a note attached, I try
not to bat an eyelash over it because anyone can send you
flowers and write you nice things in a card, right?

There will never be enough words in the English

language to say how sorry I am. But I am. I’m so
sorry, Princess. Letting you go was the most foolish
thing I ever could’ve done, along with the most
selfish. I’ve never regretted something so much in my
life. They say time heals all wounds, though, so if
that’s what you need, then so be it. Take all the time
you need. I’ll wait forever if that’s what it’ll take for
you to forgive me, to be mine again. I love you—truly,
madly, deeply.
-G

“Not enough,” my best friend reminds me gently from

over my shoulder, reading the card along with me. “Flowers
don’t prove dick, and pretty words mean nothing without
actions backing it up.” She takes the note, rips it in tiny
little pieces, and sprinkles them around like confetti before
wrapping her around me as tears fill my eyes. “Let’s see
how far Kane is willing to go.”
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EVERYDAY for the last three weeks, Grayson has made it a

point to send me an image quote, all of them apologetic and
genuinely heartfelt. Today’s is no different.

Sorry is such a small word for the mistakes I’ve made,

but the price of my actions I’ve heavily paid. Every
second away from you is like a dagger in my heart.
Punish me any way you want to, but I can’t stand
being apart.

Neither can I, I think to myself, wanting so desperately

to just cave and reply, and tell him to come over so I can
kiss him and hug him, and do all the things we haven’t
done in the last three months. To pick up where we left off
and just be together.
But then I remember what Carlie said—pretty words
mean nothing when there’s no actions backing it up—and I
don’t reply. I swipe out of our thread, lock my phone, and
go on about my life as best I can because until Grayson
proves to me that he wants me back, and I mean really
proves it, I can’t fold.

TONIGHT’S my mom’s premier for ‘Whispers of the

Enemies’, aka the Drama she was off filming for three
months before Grayson blew up our lives. I only know this
because she’s asked me to go with her. My first instinct was
to say no. I mean, she’s asking at the last damn minute and
we’re still not on the greatest of terms, especially after the
whole REVENGEHUB fiasco. But she sounded utterly
desperate, said she didn’t want to walk the red carpet
alone, and BOOM—empathetic Lyric activated.
So I agreed.
Thankfully, I had this baby pink Valentino I bought
earlier in the year that I never got to wear just sitting in my
closet, otherwise, I don’t know what kind of look I would’ve
been able to put together so last minute. It’s strapless and
mostly silk with a sheer corset-style bodice and hip high
slit. Some of the silk drapes across my midsection, hiding
the sheerness of the bodice and cascades down the side of
my leg, accentuating the slit. Updo with face-framing
tendrils, diamonds for my jewelry, and light make-up; it’s
perfectly me without being overkill, and without stealing
the spotlight from my mom, who’s decided to go in a bright
fire engine red Marchesa.
She looks beautiful, as always, and as I stare at her in
the back of the limo, I find myself wishing that I cared
more, that I was more excited for her, that we had a better
relationship and she acted more like a mother. Because
right now, right here in this moment, I see a beautiful
woman, yes—but I don’t see the motherly figure I wish I
had.
“What?” she quirks a brow. “Why are you looking at me
like that?”
“Nothing.” I wish you weren’t such a disappointment.
“You just look beautiful.”
Her expression softens, bottom lip poking out as she
brings a hand to her chest. “Oh, honey. That’s so sweet,
thank you. You look absolutely gorgeous, too.”
“Thanks, mom,” I smile, and that’s as far as the
conversation extends.
She flicks her gaze back out the window right as the
driver pulls into the line at Gruman’s Chinese Theater.
Every few moments, the limo eases up a bit as we get
closer to the front of the line, and I can’t help but wonder
why David isn’t here with her. If there were ever a time for
them to “come out” together, wouldn’t now be the perfect
event? Obviously, I don’t ask as much, but it sits hot on the
tip of my tongue as I observe her jittering about.
We’re next to emerge and as she smoothes a hand down
her curls, she cranks her head toward me and says, “If they
happen to ask any questions about Grayson, don’t—”
“Say anything. Yes, mother, I know.” I want to roll my
eyes, but I don’t, although she’s not fond of the emphasis
on mother, flashing me her famous death glare.
She wants to say as much, but the door opening reminds
her of where we are and she breezily slips her mask in
place, stepping out into the spotlight with that megawatt
smile like she always does. The camera flashes start up
with papz demanding her attention the second she comes
into view. While they take their shots, the door man helps
me out of the back, offering a glimmering smile, one I
return before taking my place at my mom’s side, a
scintillating clutch nestled in my hand. We pose together
for a good minute or two, then wave politely and start down
the red carpet.
It’s a bit of a trek to the front doors, the carpet
extending along Hollywood Boulevard, wall barricades with
the movie logo blocking off the view of the road itself.
There’s camera flashes everywhere, left, right, from every
angle. I pose like always; shoulders squared to define my
neck, one hand on hip, a leg extended out to the side. Idly I
make out questions about Grayson, about Leland and what
he did, but I breathe through it all, keeping my smile
perfectly intact.
“Lyric, over here! Look over here!” they call out, as if I
can tell who they are behind all the bright lights.
So I just shift my focus around, adjusting my pose as I
give them all the opportunity to catch as many images as
possible. I pose with my mom, too, my arm around her
waist while she cups my face and kisses my cheek. Another
fake display of her love, much like Vogue, but I take it,
tolerating it for the sake of appearances.
Moments later as we’re nearly the last bit of the carpet
leading to the doors, a flurry of commotion arises like a
wild blaze. At first I can’t make out what they’re losing
their minds over, though I presume it’s my mom’s co-star,
until I hear it, so loud and so damn clear there’s no
mistaking it.
His name.
 And then he comes into view… All-black suit, a slightly
metallic grayish, silvery tie. Megawatt smile, hands
casually in his pockets. He looks devilishly handsome.
“What in the actual fuck is he doing here?” my mom
barks beside me as she takes note of Grayson, too.
I don’t know, I mentally reply, but my heart is suddenly
beating fifty times too fast and my knees feel like they
could buckle at any given moment. He looks so damn
handsome and it’s that very second he chooses to crane his
head our way. Those mind-numbing green eyes root me to
the spot, that panty-melting smile widening as he starts for
us. Vaguely I can hear reporters asking what he’s doing
here and if he’s trying to win my mom back, but it’s distant,
nothing more than a roar of muffled background noise in
comparison to the way my blood whooshes through my
ears.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
His steps, steadfast and deliberate, filled with that
natural swagger that make up who Grayson Kane is carry
him all the way toward me, and before I can so much as
anticipate what his next move will be, he’s pulling me from
my mom, a formidable arm sliding around my waist.
“Hey, Princess,” he greets, loud enough for everyone to
hear above the clamor.
“What are you doing?” I breathe. My stomach
somersaulting, my heart on the verge of busting through
my chest.
His grin widens without falter. “Something I should’ve
done a long time ago.” A calculated hand seals around my
jaw…and then he’s kissing me.
He’s kissing me.
In fucking public.
 On the red carpet at my mom’s movie premier.
Gasps erupt around us along with my mother’s horrified
shriek as a swarm of flashes bathe us in lights. He doesn’t
ease up, though, and I don’t pull away. No, I seal my fingers
around his wrist and kiss him back, melting into him, not
giving a single fuck about what anyone thinks, what they’ll
say, what the tabloids will look like for the next month.
Nothing matters except him and the fact that he’s
willingly putting himself out there, putting everything on
the line, to claim me for all the world to see, not an ounce
of shame in sight.
And yes, it’s all the proof I needed to know he’s serious
about this, about me—us.
A detail my mom clearly is not fond of considering the
strength she uses to rip me from his hold. “What the fuck
do you think you’re doing?” she screeches at him, springing
me into immediate action.
Before he can reply or she has the opportunity to berate
him any further, I grab her by the wrist and haul her
toward the theater. She’s going off the whole time while
reporters and paparazzis alike follow us, asking a billion
questions about what the hell that was as she tries to pry
herself from my grip. But I hold on tighter, storming in
through the front entrance and whipping her into the
nearest bathroom, promptly locking the door behind us for
privacy. Even when I shove her up against the wall, she’s
still sputtering off a mile per minute. Every last drop of
blood in her body has shot up to her face and, if this were a
cartoon movie, there’d be smoke billowing from her ears.
“Mom,” I try, hoping that she’ll shut the hell up and let
me talk, but she doesn’t.
She goes on and on.
“Mom.”
“Mom, listen to me.”
“Will you be quiet and listen to me for five minutes.”
 Nothing gets through to her, and that’s the moment my
palm whacks across her cheek, the harsh slap resounding
off the bathroom walls.
Silence.
Her blue eyes widen in shock as a hand shoots up to her
face, cupping her smarting cheek.
“Finally,” I sigh, making quick work of pulling my phone
free from my clutch. “And to answer your questions before I
get started, that was Grayson telling the world he loves
me.” Her gaze widens all the more, prompting me to nod.
“Yes, you heard that right. He loves me, and you know
what? I love him, too. I have for a long time now.”
Those crimson-painted lips part to speak, but I drape a
finger over them and shake my head.
“Eh, eh, eh, I’ll be doing all the talking here,” I start,
steadying myself to unleash everything I’ve ever wanted to
say to her…and more. “Over a year ago, I made a move on
Grayson. The how is not important and I’m not sharing it
with you because frankly, mother, it’s none of your
goddamn business. The point is he resisted…because of
you. Because although he knew you were cheating on him
with David, we both did, he still felt the need to uphold the
vows you made in front of all our friends and family when
you said ‘I Do.’ He chose to honor you despite the fact
you’d been forsaking him for quite some time.”
I pause, allowing that tidbit of information to sink in
before continuing.
“You know me, though,” I chuckle, “I always get what I
want, and I wanted him. I think I always have. So while he
continued resisting me, making it known that he and I
couldn’t happen, I kept pushing, and pushing, and pushing,
until one night, he snapped. You were in Canada filming
your little Netflix Original and we were fucking all over that
house.”
Those blue eyes of her flare with a rage I’ve never seen
before and when she tries speaking up again, intent on
getting her thoughts out, I clamp hand over her mouth.
“You’ll get your turn. Now isn’t it, so shut up and listen,
you insufferable bitch. Got it?”
She nods in understanding, her frame quaking against
the wall.
“What started out as a no-strings agreement quickly
spiraled into a hidden relationship, much like yours with
David. He didn’t want to ask you for a divorce knowing how
spiteful and petty you can be, so I’d resigned myself to the
fact I’d never have the man to myself, that I’d always have
to share him with you. Well, a year into our relationship
and he was finally ready to pull the plug on you. It’s been a
ride to say the least, lots of ups and downs because of you,
but I’m done. I’m done giving a fuck. I’m done hiding my
life for you, done hiding my fucking happiness for you. So
here’s how this is going to go… “ I remove my hand,
leaning in close enough my nose nearly brushes hers. “You
say one bad thing about that man in regards to this, just
one, and I will destroy you.”
“Destroy me?” she laughs mirthlessly, shoving me back
slightly. “Please, Lyric. Do tell how my little slut of a
daughter plans to do that.”
“Oh, I’m a slut, alright,” I coo, a devious smile spreading
across my lips. “His dirty little slut—and he loves it.”
A scandalized gasp leaves her and she tries to strike me,
but the sound of her moans streaming from my phone stop
her dead in her tracks. Her gaze drops to my screen now
playing the video I recorded the day I caught her. Yeah, you
read that right. I’ve had proof this whole time. I’ve never
told Grayson I had this, didn’t want him seeing this, his so-
called wife so enthralled with another man, but this is the
blackmail I was referring to back at the cabin. It’s a good
minute long, timestamp and all, which will prove she’s
nothing more than a lying cunt.
Because you know, according to her Instagram post, her
divorce was “so painful.”
 “This is how I’ll destroy you,” I grit venomously, “So go
ahead and try it, mother, I fucking dare you. If you’re smart
and you intend to keep acting, you’ll keep your mouth shut
and go enjoy your pathetic life with your pathetic excuse of
a man, and let us—”
“He left me,” her voice trembles, tears forming at the
rims of her eyes like the award winning actress she is.
“Said he couldn’t hide anymore, that he—”
“I don’t care what David said or did, if you’re together
or not. You will keep your mouth shut or I’ll blast this
everywhere, and then the whole world will know you’re a
lying, cheating bitch. Do you understand me?” I’ve never
felt so liberated, so relieved, like I can finally fucking
breathe.
My mom nods, said tears now streaming down her
cheeks. “I don’t want to be alone, Lyric.”
“Yeah? Well, I didn’t wanna be alone, either, but you had
no problem walking in and out of my life at your
convenience. Consider this karma for your horrible
parenting and all the other revolting shit you’ve done. You
deserve to be alone, mother. A lonely hag in her fake
perfect world of glitz and glamor.” I shove the phone still
playing the video in her face again as a last reminder. “One
word, Nicolette. One fucking word and you’re done.”
And with that I walk out of the bathroom, intent on
finding Grayson and picking up where we left off, but it
seems he’s already found me. Leaned up in the small
alcove, his dark head snaps my way as the door shuts
behind me, that lopsided grin coming out to play. I rush him
without hesitation, throwing my arms around his neck as I
smash our lips together. “Get me the fuck out of here,” I
whisper.
Said grin widens, the hands at my waist squeezing
tauntingly. “With pleasure.”

OceanofPDF.com
 ♫ Forever - Labrinth ♫

SLAM!
That’s the sound the front door makes as I whip Lyric
inside the house and shove her up against the hard surface.
I’m surprised we made it inside, to be honest. We barely
made it out of the car in one piece.
“This dress is gorgeous, baby, and you look like a real-
life princess, but I need it off,” I mumble against her lips,
blindly feeling around her for a way to peel it off.
“There’s a zipper.” She spins in my hold, vibrating with a
need that matches my own. “Pull it, pull it, pull it.”
 One fluid tug and the pink silk gives way, pooling at her
feet. I’m left instantly breathless at the sight awaiting me.
She’s completely bare except for those clear
Cinderellaesque fuck-me heels, a sly look in her eyes as she
wiggles that pert little ass at me.
I’m gonna come in two point five seconds tonight.
Literally.
There’s no way I’ll last after three months of nothing but
jerking it.
Pivoting her to face me once more, I scoop her up in my
arms, my palms firmly sealing around the swells of her ass,
and head for the staircase, relishing the feel of having her
this close to me again after being so sure I never would.
“I missed you,” she whispers, kissing her way along my
neck, eager fingers stealing under the lapels of my jacket.
“So fucking much.”
“Missed you doesn’t even cover it,” I confess. “I’ve never
been in such a dark, lonely place.”
It was hell…every goddamn second of it. And once the
tabloids started up with her and Leland? I was a miserable,
furious bastard—filled with regret and consumed to the
brim with jealousy.
“Take this off.” The jacket, she means, trying and
miserably failing to push it off my shoulders. “It’s in the
way.”
“When we get upstairs, Princess. I have to undo the—”
“Now, Daddy.”
I freeze half way up the stairs as that name, one I
thought I’d never hear again, washes over me, igniting my
blood in all the best ways possible. Those pretty blue eyes
of hers, tenacious as ever and utterly resolute, glimmer
with mischief as I set her down and make quick work of
undoing the two buttons. “Already sassing me and we’ve
been in the house for less than five minutes.”
“You know you love it,” she purrs, undoing my tie.
 “Not as much as I love you.” A simple shrug of my
shoulders and the jacket falls to the travertine steps,
followed by the tie as she pulls it free and winds herself
around me like a vine.
“Mmm, say it again.”
“I love you,” I repeat, taking the second half of the stairs
two at a time, anxious to rip off the rest of my clothes and
bury myself deep inside her.
“Promise me something.” She’s working on my shirt
now, deftly undoing to the top few buttons. “And I need you
to really mean it this time or this isn’t going to work.”
“What’s that?”
Smoothing her palms around my neck, her fingers
plunging into the hair at the nape of my neck, she pecks my
lips chastely. “Don’t ever run from me again.”
“Never again,” I vow. “Fucking never, baby.”
“I’m serious.” She nips my bottom lip, hard enough to
deliver the severity of her warning. “As much as it would
kill me, there won’t be a third chance. Fool me once, shame
on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.”
“I’m serious, too. There’s no need for me to run
anymore. Your mother’s out of the picture, the divorce is
final. Hell, I just risked everything to claim you publicly.
Yeah, I’m sure the headlines won’t be pretty, but we knew
coming out would be a huge scandal. I’m more than willing
to deal with the backlash as long as I have you.”
And I mean that with everything I am. My empire could
crumble as a result of my actions, but it’d be worth it
because Lyric is worth more than the dollar signs in my
bank account. She’s the Cullinan Diamond, rare and
ostentatiously beautiful, attainable by only one.
And that one is me—even if the world around us goes up
in sweltering flames.
“Just as long as we’re clear.” Her smile is infectious,
spreading my lips along with hers.
“Crystal.”
 “Then take me to bed and fuck me already. It’s been too
long since I felt what it’s like to be owned.”
I hum appreciatively, barreling my ass down the hallway
and into my room as fast as my legs will carry me. When
my knees hit the edge of the bed, I fling her onto the
center, reveling the way she looks atop the new sheets as I
strip down. The new everything, really. Frame, mattress,
duvet, sheets—it’s all new, untainted by Nicolette’s
essence, slept in by me and only me.
And now we get to break it in.
“Strip faster, Daddy,” she fusses, sliding a finger through
her pussy lips. “I’m wet and wanting.”
The yearning look in her eyes right now, how she needs
me… All is right in the world again, that’s all I can think as
I shed the last of my clothes and crawl my way over her. My
cock, already rock hard, aligns perfectly at her slit as I
settle my weight on both arms and claim her mouth. She
opens for me in the same unhesitating fashion she used to,
our tongues melding, dueling, lapping at each other like
we’ll blink and this won’t be real.
“In, put it in,” she demands, undulating beneath me.
“Give it to me, please.”
An involuntary groan leaves me, the corners of my
mouth quirking in amusement. “I missed hearing you beg.”
Lyric clings to me tighter, chuckling softly in my ear.
“Please, please let me have it.”
Did she beg him like this, too?
The tip, that’s as far as I go, stamping a trail of kisses
down her neck as the unpleasant thought, sudden and
unwelcome, hits me like a ton of bricks. “Did he fuck you
like this?” I know I shouldn’t have asked, but I have to
know.
“Who?” she breathes.
“You know who,” I grit, feeding her another inch. “Did
you let him fuck you like this? Raw, no barrier?”
“Hell no. He wore a condom every—”
 I slam into her, sucking the air right out of her as I
bottom out. It’s bad enough knowing she gave herself to
him because I fucked up, that he got to witness her beauty
in all her bared glory, got to feel how tight and warm she is,
hear the sounds she makes when she comes undone. I don’t
need to know nor do I want to acknowledge it was more
than once. The fact she didn’t let him have her like this,
though…it’s relieving, empowering even, chasing away his
existence.
“Mine,” I growl against her skin, my teeth sinking into
the smooth column. “You’re mine, Lyric. Do you understand
me?”
“Yes,” she mewls.
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
Those two little words are music to my fucking ears,
sending me into an instant frenzy. I drive into her with
determined strokes, loving on every inch of her body—lips,
neck, her breasts—as I claim her all over again. Won’t be
the last time. I’ll spend every day for the rest of my life
claiming her, reminding her there’s no one but me. That no
man is ever going to love her, touch her, fuck her again but
me.
Ring, no ring.
Collar, or no collar.
She’s mine.
My end all be all.
“Ooh! Oh, God, Gray!” One of those delicious moans
bursts through the silence. “So good, Daddy. It feels so
fucking good!”
“Yeah? You missed this cock, Princess?” I grate, easing
back to curl my arms around her thighs.
The view, delicious as always, leaves my balls clenching
in warning.
“So much,” she nods, “so fucking much.”
 “You sure?” my inner-sadist presses, ready and waiting
to— Do not go there, Grayson. Now isn’t the time.
“God, yes. There’s no one like you,” she avows, spurring
me on in my feat.
I need to hear her say it.
“Then tell me whose pussy this is.”
“Yours.”
“Whose?” I press, easing out to the tip before driving
right back in.
“Yours, this pussy’s yours,” she mewls, clawing at the
sheets for purchase as I pick up the pace, the glorious
sound of our skin slapping ringing out above her moans.
“Louder, baby. Let me hear you. Whose”—thrust
—“Pussy”—thrust—“Is”—thrust—“This?”
“Yours, Daddy! Fucking yours! All yours!” she bellows.
I’m on her again with a growl, my fingers in her hair, my
strokes deep and unfaltering. “Don’t forget that. Don’t
forget you’re all mine, every inch of you, that I love you.”
“Fuck, say it again,” she pleads on a mewl. “I’m so close;
say it again, please.”
“Which part?”
“All of it.”
“You’re mine.” Thrust.
“Every inch of you.” Thrust.
“I love you, Lyric.” Thrust.
“Again,” she moans, locking her arms around neck, her
legs a vise around my waist.
“You’re fucking mine,” I grit, digging into her, hoping
every word sounds as veracious as I intend for them to be.
“Every stunning inch of you.” Thrust.
“I love you, Princess, with all that I am and—”
“Oh, God, I’m coming!”
So am I, spilling inside her with each iron grip of her
walls, marking her in ways I was never able to when our
relationship first began. She was mine then, yes, but not
like this. Not like fucking this. There’s nothing or no one in
the way now, everything out in the open, and although it
hasn’t been easy, choosing her will always and forever be
the best decision I ever made.
Because she was destined to be mine from the start…
and you don’t fuck with destiny.
Much less fate.

OceanofPDF.com
THE SAYING ‘AGE AIN’T NOTHING BUT A NUMBER’ HAS
NEVER BEEN MORE TRUE… CEO, GRAYSON KANE,
UNAPOLOGETICALLY KISSES HIS EX-WIFE’S DAUGHTER ON
THE RED CARPET.

FROM PLAYBOY TO CEO: DID LYRIC TAYLOR STEAL HER

MOTHER’S MAN? WAS SHE THE CAUSE FOR DIVORCE?

FROM STEP-DAD TO DADDY… LOLITA, IS THAT YOU?

MOMMY’S SLOPPY SECONDS? UP AND COMING

SUPERMODEL, LYRIC TAYLOR, SPOTTED LEAVING GRUMAN’S
CHINESE THEATER WITH MOTHER’S EX-HUSBAND.
SCANDAL OF THE YEAR: TWENTY-FOUR YEARS STAND
BETWEEN KINK EMPIRE TYCOON, GRAYSON KANE, AND HIS
EX-WIFE’S DAUGHTER, LYRIC TAYLOR. WAS THERE
GROOMING AT PLAY HERE? HOW LONG HAS THIS
RELATIONSHIP BEEN GOING ON?

CLOUDNINE CEO GROOMING STEP-DAUGHTER? EXCLUSIVE

PHOTOS FROM SCANDALOUS KISS AT EX-WIFE’S MOVIE
PREMIER.

BILLIONAIRE SOCIAL MEDIA MOGUL TRADES IN EX-WIFE FOR

NEWER MODEL, HER DAUGHTER!

NEW KINK UNLOCKED! GRAYSON KANE PUTS A WHOLE NEW

MEANING TO ALL IN THE FAMILY.

WHAT DOES MOMMY THINK? NO ONE KNOWS. NICOLETTE

LECLAIR REFUSES TO GIVE STATEMENT REGARDING HER
DAUGHTER’S OUTLANDISH RELATIONSHIP WITH EX-
HUSBAND, GRAYSON KANE.

HOLLYWOOD’S NOTORIOUS PLAYBOY, LELAND CORTEZ,

SUED FOR $1.5B AFTER UPLOADING NUDE IMAGES AND SEX
TAPE OF FLING, LYRIC TAYLOR, TO REVENGEHUB.

OceanofPDF.com
 ♫ everything - Kehlani ♫

A WEEK later and the tabloids are still going strong. We

knew they would, but damn, some are harsh as fuck. I
mean, grooming? Really? It’s not like the man has been a
part of my life since I was five. We’re still unsure of where
this will leave Grayson in the coming weeks, but so far
none of his employees have up and quit, and he claims
there’s been a spike in new CloudNine accounts. Could be
good news. Could also be terrible. I guess, like most things
in life, only time will tell.
As for me… Well, it’s not like I haven’t been the talk of
the town before. There’s hate, obviously, lots of it,
especially after what Leland did to me, but there’s also
support. My Instagram DMs are flooded with women who’s
boyfriend or spouse is significantly older than them,
offering tales of how it’s the best decision they ever made,
how they’re still happily in love more than X amount of
years later. It’s both comforting and reassuring to see, a
reminder that while seducing Grayson started off as some
silly, spur of the moment idea, it’s quite possibly the
greatest idea I ever had.
Carlie might disagree; she’s still not Grayson’s biggest
fan, but she did agree on the fact that what he did, showing
up to my mom’s premier like that, was a step in the right
direction and proved some of his worth. I think most of her
resistance comes from the fact she’ll be losing me as a
roommate. We grew so used to having each other around
all the time and now I’m leaving, slowly but surely moving
all my shit back to Grayson’s.
Only this time, his room is mine, too. The whole house is.
It’s ours. I hadn’t noticed the night of my mom’s premier,
but he replaced the bed along with the rest of the bedroom
furniture. The old set is in my old room, which looks so, so
different now. It’s weird how I spent so many years in here
and yet, as I glance around it, taking in the pale walls and
all the nooks and crannies that once held my belongings, I
feel no attachment to it.
“Um, Princess?” Grayson’s puzzled voice rings out down
the hall.
He’s awake, finally. A devilish smirk curls my lips. I woke
up a good two hours ago to get ready and mentally prepare
myself for the day.
Let’s just say it’s gonna be fun day for me…and an
undoubtedly long day for him.
Shutting the door to my old room behind me, I tread
down the hall with precise steps, the sound of my thigh-
high leather boots clipping and clopping against the tiles.
When I slither up to the threshold, I find him sitting up in
bed, his wrists handcuffed to the posts of the headboard.
“Hi, Daddy,” I purr, leaning up against the door jam.
“Good morning.”
“What’s going on here?” he questions, tugging on his
restraints as his gaze rakes over my outfit.
One-piece leather corset, fishnet stockings, the boots.
Thanks, best friend.
“Oh,” I chuckle, strutting further into the room,
admiring the way he looks all trussed up and confused. “It’s
Princess Brat Switch Day.”
One of his dark brows quirks. “Is it now? And when did I
agree to that?”
“You didn’t.” My smirk widens. “But I know I had
enough points for it, so I’m using them.”
“Lyric,” he warns, giving another tug to the cuffs. “You
can’t use points you no longer have.”
“I can and I am,” I sass, crawling onto the edge of the
bed. “It’s only fair if we’re going to start using the app
again.”
We only briefly discussed it a couple days ago, and I was
all for it, but when I logged back in, all my points were
gone, everything erased and deleted after uninstalling the
app. At first, I was disappointed, knowing I’d racked up so
many reward points, but then I realized this was part of our
fresh start.
A clean slate.
“At least let Daddy have a day to mentally prepare
himself for your brand of torture. This isn’t fair. I literally
woke up handcuffed to the bed and then you walk in
looking like that,” he croaks, his voice still husky with
sleep.
“And by the looks of the tent currently pitched beneath
the sheets, I’d say you like it,” I quip.
“I do, but—”
 “But nothing.” Leaning all my weight on one hand, I
spread my legs and tug the leather material aside, running
a finger through my pussy lips. “If you like it, then what’s
the problem?”
“The problem is you’re going to torment me all day,” he
grits through his teeth, his hands now balled into fists.
“What’s the matter, Daddy? Not a fan of edging?” I purr,
absolutely living for his reaction.
He doesn’t answer, stare fixated on the way I glide that
same digit up and down, growing wetter and wetter by the
second.
“Answer me, Grayson, or I’ll stop.”
“No, I’m not a fan of edging,” he grunts.
“That’s a shame,” I tease, slipping my middle finger
inside my sex on a soft moan. “‘Cause it’s so fun when
you’re on the giving end.”
It really, really is.
A gruff, deep-seated growl rumbles in his chest. “Fuck,
this is going to be hell.”
Yes, it is, Daddy. Yes it fucking is.
Without another word, I continue on in my feat, working
my pussy while he can do nothing other than watch. I
alternate between rubbing deft circles at my clit and
plunging two fingers inside, stimulating my G-spot. Every
few minutes, Grayson will growl or groan in protest, the
heat of his gaze driving me onward. He really is hating
every minute of this and I am loving it. Having full control
of him for the whole day is going to be magnificent.
Stares intertwined, I withdraw my fingers from my slick
cunt and bring them up to my mouth, sealing my lips
around them. “Mmm.” My eyes shut in bliss as I lap them
clean. “So sweet.”
“Baby…” He tries, snapping my eyes right back open.
“You’re killing me here. Give Daddy a taste.”
“What’s the magic word?” I ask.
 “Please,” he rasps, tongue peeking out to wet his lips,
his chest heaving anxiously. “Please give Daddy a taste.”
“Good boy.” That wicked smirk reclaims my expression,
and while Grayson is one-hundred percent all Dom, it
seems the man has a praise kink we’ve never discussed.
Those chartreuse eyes darken in all the best ways possible,
yet still light up with obvious excitement as I crawl my way
over him.
I purposely nip at his hard-on on the way up, stamping
kisses up his chest, his neck. “You like that, don’t you?” I
coo, pressing a wet kiss to his lips, hovering over him on all
fours.
“Like what?”
“When I call you good boy.”
Gray nods, his tongue delving into my mouth. “It sounds
sexy as fuck coming out of your mouth.”
“Maybe we should have Princess Brat Switch Day more
often then,” I counter, but he’s quick as hell to shake his
head.
“Not like this. I’m dying here.”
Chuckling at his expense, I snake a hand between my
legs and swiftly plunge two fingers inside myself, coating
them generously in my essence before sliding the tips along
his bottom lip. “Suck.”
He opens his mouth to oblige, allowing me entrance…
but just as he’s about to seal his lips around them, I
withdraw, the sound of his teeth chattering shut renting the
air.
That animalistic growl of frustration comes out to play
again as he tussles with his restraints. “You don’t play fair,
Princess. That was dirty as fuck.”
“So it’s okay for you to tease me…” I kiss him again,
toying with his bottom lip. “But I can’t?”
“I only tease you like this when you’re a bad girl and you
know it.”
 “Liar, liar, pants on fire. You love teasing me. It’s all part
of the fun.”
“It’s not so fun when I can’t touch you,” he grumbles,
brows pinched.
It’s honestly adorable yet appeals to the empath in me, a
simple fact that proves I could never be solely a Domme.
Repeating the process, I coat the same two fingers in my
juices and bring them up to his lips. “Open, and this time
I’ll promise I’ll let you taste me.”
No hesitation. His mouth pops open and I make good on
my promise, pressing my fingers against his tongue.
“Mmm.” His eyes fall shut in delight, that skilled tongue
lapping around the digits, between them, leaving nothing
untouched.
After a minute or two, I pull them free and replace them
with my mouth.
“More,” he mumbles against my lips. “Give me more,
baby.”
“Do you wanna eat my pussy, Daddy?” I offer.
“Yes,” he nods.
“Do you want me to feed you my pussy?”
“Fuck…” he hisses, bobbing his head. “Yes.”
“You know what you have to say then,” I coax, running a
claw beneath his chin.
“Yes, please, Princess. Feed me your pussy.”
“There’s my good boy,” I croon, and with one last peck
to his lips, I rise onto my feet, situating myself in front of
him.
Am I loving the switch a little too much? Probably. But I
wouldn’t be able to do this every day. Submitting to
Grayson is natural, as natural as breathing, or the way my
blood runs through my veins. Getting to Domme him,
however, is nothing more than an added bonus, a way to
indulge, a treat I’ll gladly take every now and then.
Using the headboard for support, I gently rake my
fingers the unruly locks of his dark hair, admiring the
sparse salty strands peppered throughout before guiding
him closer to my cunt. He wastes absolutely no time,
burying his tongue between my lips like his life depends on
it. My clit sings under his assault, but before I allow myself
to succumb to the sinful sensation, I pull away.
“No,” he growls, and with a force I wasn’t expecting, he
yanks hard enough to break the ends of the cuffs through
the wooden posts, intent hands firmly sealing around my
ass, pulling me back toward him.
“Save some of that enthusiasm, Daddy,” I titter, offering
a moan as he nips savagely at my clit. “It’s going to be a
long day and we’re just getting started..”

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 Six months later…

THERE WAS a time not long ago when I thought this would
never be possible; her and I, out in the open, living our best
goddamn lives.
Madly and irrevocably in love.
But here we are, six months of pure and utter bliss later.
Shortly after Lyric moved in, I sold the house. Much like
the bedroom, we wanted a space that was our own, one
that had never seen the likes of her mother. And because
her relationship with Nicolette is nearly non-existent these
days, we moved closer to Carlie. I knew it would make her
happy to be within driving distance of her best friend, and
there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to ensure her happiness. I
also bought a vacation spot up in Big Bear Mountain
because again, her happiness is priceless to me, and I know
how much she’d loved that cabin we stayed at.
We’ve been up here a few times since. Carlie and a
couple of their friends, Kaylin and Arrow, have come once
or twice, too. This week, though, it’s just us, and I have a
little something I’ve been meaning to give her for quite
some time now. She’s cooling off in the pool when I make
way out back. It’s a scorcher today, all blue skies and
blazing sun.
“Princess,” I greet, skipping down the stone steps to the
pool’s edge.
Cranking her head my way, she flashes me that beaming
smile as I approach and drop to my haunches. “Hey, Daddy.
Finally getting in the pool with me?”
“In a bit, yes. I have something I want to show you first.”
“What’s that?” Pushing her sunglasses up to the top of
her head, she rests both arms on the ledge.
There’s no box this time, the upgraded piece of jewelry
dangling off my fingers as I bring it up to her line of sight.
Lyric gasps as she takes in the new collar. It’s similar in
style to her old one, but rather than a white-gold chain, it’s
tennis-style, splitting in half towards the front to wrap
around the fixed diamond encrusted infinity band. Hanging
from the band is a pink gem—my birthstone. Ironic how
that worked out when pink, as we all know, is her signature
color.
I’m expecting an overjoyed thank you, a kiss to go with
it…but what I get is her lugging me into the pool. I’ve
barely surfaced and she’s already winding herself around
me, raining down on my now wet face with equally wet
kisses.
“That’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” she
gushes excitedly.
 “Wrong,” I chuckle. “You’re the most beautiful thing to
ever be seen.”
“You flatter me.” Her lips crash fiercely into mine,
fingers threading into my soaked hair.
“I do not. I only speak the truth.”
“No,” she sasses. “You speak your truth.”
“Exactly, and my truth is that I’m hopelessly in love with
you, that I’m yours and only yours, and I want there to be
no mistaking it. Will you do me the honor of wearing this?”
Collar still in my hand, I present it to her a second time.
“Of course I will.” She pecks me again. “It’s stunning
and I love it, especially the pink gem.”
“It’s my birthstone,” I explain, draping the string of
diamonds around her throat. “So you can carry Daddy with
you everywhere you go.”

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Here’s what’s next for Remi! Remember when Gray
mentioned Bluebird after Nora’s date? Well, that’s exactly
where we’re going! And because this is a spin-off series of
stand-alone novellas, you’ll still get to see Grayson and
Lyric, only as secondary and/or background characters this
time around. Make sure you’re following all of my socials
and signed up for my mailing list so you don’t miss all the
deets, including who the stories are about, promo sign-up,
release dates, and all that good stuff. Get excited! It’s
gunna be a wild, sexy time! ;)

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It still blows my mind that a little 10k anthology piece
received SO much love that it morphed into this—a full-
blown almost 100k NOVEL. Like how? HOW? Anthology
pieces come and go, but so many of you demanded more,
and that demand brought us here. I’m so utterly thankful
for all of the love and support because without it, Gray and
Lyrics full story would’ve never been possible. I hope the
expansion was everything you all wanted and more.

To my best friend, Hazel—this story wouldn’t even be a

thing today if it wasn’t for your desire to put together a
charity anthology benefiting Ukraine. There aren’t enough
words for all the Thank Yous I owe you, not just for Brat
Mode, but for everything you’ve done and continue to do
for me daily. You’re a constant pillar in my life and I’m not
so sure where I’d be without you. Thank you for being the
sister I always wanted, for picking me up when I felt
hopeless, for always cheering me on with each book I write,
and for just being you. You’re the bestest friend a girl could
ask for. I <3 YOU.

To my betas, Carlie and Nora—man, when I say y’all are

STUCK with me now lol. Having you along for the ride
while I transformed this story from a 10k piece to a whole
ass book was such a blessing. I’m so damn thankful that I
somehow found you two within this chaotic community and
know I can trust you to keep it real with me always. You’ve
been my biggest cheerleaders since I first announced Gray
and Lyric, filling my cup with nothing but excitement for a
story you didn’t even know would be any good and hyping
it to your closest friends. I think the amount of faith you
had in me greatly contributed to me being able to execute
and pen the story we all wanted to read. So thank you.
Thank you for standing by me, holding my hand, offering
suggestions, providing genuine feedback. All of it. I adore
you to the moon and back.

And lastly but most certainly not least: To my Dee Garcia

readers who’ve followed me over here on this new journey
—thank you. Thank you for sticking with me. Thank you for
believing in me. Thank you for loving my words so much
that you blindly jumped on board without a single question.
I see you all and I appreciate AND LOVE you guys more
than you can possibly understand. I write these stories for
you. <3

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From I'm sage, and hood, and wish a motherf*cker would, to sugar, spice, and
everything nice. While Dee loves writing those dark, gritty, emotional, angsty
reads, she also enjoys writing the lighter, smuttier stuff, too. Remi Darling is
her outlet to do so. Easy, breezy contemporary romance plots, possessive Alpha
males, sassy heroines, and scorching hot smut sprinkled all throughout the
story. What’s not to love?

Sign up for Remi’s mailing list here and be the first to know about release
dates, special launches, and more!

Looking for Remi’s reader group? Join The Brat Cave!

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