She dropped onto the couch beside him and picked up the wine first, deliberately ignoring the pizza. A Daddy would tell her she needed food in her tummy first, right?
“That bad, huh?” Sympathy was woven into every word as Dylan simply reached over and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Wanna talk about it?”
It shocked her to realize she did. Not so much that she wanted to talk about her day, but that she specifically wanted to talk about it withhim.
The man was dangerous, but she drained her glass anyway and set it on the coffee table beside her still-untouched pizza. Shifting in her seat to face him, she studied him for a long moment. If he really wanted a relationship with her, this was part of the gig. Better for him to find out right sooner rather than later how much of a neurotic mess she could be when things didn’t go her way, right? Better, certainly, than for her to pretend to be someone she wasn’t for six months, only to slowly let him see those needy, vulnerable parts of herself and then scare him off after she’d already developed feelings.
“Yeah, I do wanna talk about it.”
So she did. From waking up late and not being able to take a shower, which always made her feel weird and gross during the day, to the accident that nearly made her miss her own presentation, to her asshole boss giving her crap all day, to the system crash that had sent everyone into a panic, all the way up to her absolutely shitty drive home in the rain.
Through it all, he just… listened. At one point, he silently leaned over and refilled her wine glass before handing it back to her, but he never interrupted, never offered “helpful” suggestions on what she could have or should have done differently.
And when she was done, the corners of his lips lifted slightly in a sympathetic smile. “That sounds like a really rough day. What do you need from me?”
If there existed on this Earth a woman strong enough to resist that kind of seduction, Samantha had never met her.
Still holding her half-empty second glass of wine, she straddled him, one knee on either side of him pressing into the couch cushions. The thick bulge of his cock pressed againsther suddenly aching pussy and she rolled her hips against him. “Would it be too forward to say I need you to fuck me?”
“Not at all. But I don’t fuck women who have too much alcohol in their systems to think clearly.”
“A glass and a half is nothing. I’m thinking perfectly clearly.”
“The answer is no, little girl.”
Her bottom lip immediately puffed out in a pout, and somewhere in the far recesses of her mind she realized he had a point about her not thinking clearly if she was slipping so easily into “bratty little girl” mode right in front of him. “Not fair.”
“Trust me, I don’t want to tell you no anymore than you want to hear it. And I’ll happily take you up on that offer another day, when you’re stone-cold sober and won’t hate us both in the morning.”
“What if I promise not to hate anybody?”
“Samantha…”
“Oh, all right.” With a huff of aggravation, she moved to climb off his lap, but he gripped her hips, holding her in place with a smile that could only be described as mischievous tugging at his lips.
“I said I wouldn’t fuck you tonight. I never said you couldn’t sit on my lap and snuggle.”
“I can’t sit here all night. You’ll lose the circulation in your legs and thenyou’llhatemebecause my fat ass paralyzed you.”
It didn’t take a genius to know that was the wrong thing to say to a man who fancied himself a Daddy. Even before his eyes darkened or his jaw set, she knew she’d fucked up.
“Since I am also not in the habit of spanking naughty little girls who have had too much to drink, we can talk about that comment tomorrow. For now, I think you need to get some pizza in your tummy to soak up some of that wine.”
Shame washed over her, hot and heavy as she nodded. He released her long enough for her to grab her pizza, but she didn’treturn to his lap. Snuggling on the couch with pizza and a movie was a hell of a lot more intimate than sex, and just then she felt like she might break apart into a million pieces if he so much as touched her.
She didn’t even know why she’d said such a thing. Sure, her body was curvier than it had been at sixteen, but wasn’t everyone’s? And even if she sometimes worried about the softness of her stomach or the thickness of her thighs, she’d certainly never said anything like that about herself out loud, not even to her girlfriends.
So why the hell had she said it now, and to Dylan of all people? The answer was there, in her brain, but it was as though she was trying to reach through jell-o to grasp it.
Okay, so maybe shewasn’tthinking super clearly. Which meant Dylan had been right to turn her down.
Asshole.
Blinking back the tears blurring her vision, she took a bite out of her pizza, but it might as well have been dirt for all she could taste of it.
“Sam… Come here. Please.”
“No.”
