Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 88716 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88716 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
“Sorry?” I said, genuinely taken aback.
“I’m not a little smartie,” she said again. “I’m not a cookie, or a pumpkin, or a sweetie pie. I’m me, Faith. Nearly a woman who wants to be a woman. I’ll be eighteen in two weeks.”
Oh, how it hit me. I felt it smash me in the gut, the quiet rage in her words.
The split between the two sides of me took a whole new turn. On one side was the man who wanted to apologise and say I’d respect her more in her age, and it was an oversight. On the other was the man who wanted to pull this car over to the side of the road, wrench her over my lap and tug that pencil skirt up high, and tell her she’d be my little girl however I fucking wanted her to be and learn her lessons without any backchat, pumpkin or cookie or whatever the fuck I wanted to call her with my fingers stretching that tight little cunt open wide.
I went silent. Brooding. My brain ticking as my pulse quickened.
“Everyone treats me like I’m a little kid,” she continued. “I’m always the silly little baby who has to eat her vegetables, and I’m sick of it. I don’t want it anymore.”
I fought back the urge to ask her what she did want. Because it would be dangerous. I already knew what the answer would be.
The same fucking thing I wanted. My cock to be the one to claim that tight little snatch and make her mine.
“You’re still your parents’ little girl,” I said. “That’s a lovely thing.”
She shook her head. “It’s a lovely thing when you’re five. Not when you’re almost old enough to get a mortgage.”
I couldn’t hold back the smirk at that. “I don’t think you’ll ever stop being your dad’s little girl. However many mortgages you get.”
Her shrug was a stroppy teenager’s. “Yeah, well, as long as I eat my broccoli I guess.”
“It’s the adults who eat the broccoli,” I said. “The kids all want the jelly beans and the chocolate sprinkles.”
“Maybe being a kid isn’t so bad then on that score.” She stretched her legs out in the footwell and let out a sigh. “Sorry,” she said. “I just don’t want to be a kid in the office as well as at home.”
“And you won’t be,” I told her. “You’ll never be a kid in the office, not while you’re putting as much in as you’re putting in. You’re very much a member of the team.”
I felt her eyes on me, even though mine were on the road ahead. “It’s not just the office I’m worried about,” she said, and looked away.
I should have left it quiet. Should have turned up the radio and changed the fucking topic and buried all thoughts of that pretty little snatch and how I wanted to feast on it, but I couldn’t. Filthy prick Miles won out in that one fucking moment.
“What else are you worried about, little girl?” I asked, and the irony in my tone was in a whole fucking league of its own.
It was her breath. Quick. Little gasps that had my cock pulsing. Because she felt it. She knew it.
I didn’t think she was going to be able to answer my question. The silence was so heavy it was alive in the car between us, pulsing all on its own.
But then she did.
Just one sharp little word, barely a whisper.
“You.”
I made her say it again.
“What else are you worried about, little girl?” I asked for the second time, and this time she knew what I was demanding.
She turned her face to mine and my eyes were waiting for hers.
“You,” she said, and the whisper was slightly louder this time. “I’m worried about you, Mr Lindon, sir.” She found her voice a little more, summoning up one last bit of that fire. “I’m not a little girl anymore. Don’t treat me like one.”
Oh fuck, how I was going to treat her like one.
I pulled the car sharp off to the left and the upcoming services. I didn’t bother with the main car park, just pulled right on up in the first part of layby and turned off the engine. We sat in silence, both of us breathing heavy, and I was still trying to fight it. Trying my fucking best with my cock busting to get fucking free from my pants and into that chopsy little mouth of hers.
“This shouldn’t happen,” I said. “This really can’t happen. It’s not right.”
“But I want it…” she said. “Mr Lindon, I really want it. I want you to be my first. I’ll be eighteen soon. I really want it to be you.”
I closed my eyes, trying to fucking battle it, but I heard her twitch in her seat, and all I could picture were those dainty little fingers between her legs.