I blink away tears as I read and re-read the offer letter and contract. My first photo-shoot is already booked, so that they can start working on my social media. My website.
“I pulled your videos from the cloud on the phone account, and they were all in.”
“Oh, Daddy!” I whisper as I throw my arms around him, pulling myself into his warmth.
He doesn’t seem to care that my face is covered with his cum as he takes my lips with his. His hand comes up to cup the back of my head as I lift myself into his arms, wrapping my legs around his waist, feeling like the most special, loved, protected little girl in the whole galaxy.
He kisses my ear, my throat, moving down. “I’ll need new clothes, of course… And I’ll need to get my hair done…”
“Whatever you need, baby, it’s yours. Now and forever.”
I feel his cock pressing at my entrance, and I lick my lips. “Hard again, Daddy?”
“For you, baby?” He pulls at my top, revealing a breast, kissing the soft flesh. “For you, always...”
Chapter Ten
Reuben
Five Years Later
The lights go down, and my cock goes up. Predictable as sunrise.
Twenty thousand people are packed into Madison Square Garden, waiting for my wife to take the stage, and I'm backstage with a baby strapped to my chest and a hard-on that could cut steel. Stella's dead asleep against my heartbeat. At eight months old, she’s already used to the chaos of tour life, the roar of crowds, and the way her father turns into a panting mess every time her mother opens her mouth to sing.
Christ, the things that voice does to me. Has done to me since she was a teenager, humming into a karaoke machine in the auditorium I built just for her. Back then, I told myself it was fatherly pride making my chest tight.
Told myself a lot of things back then.
The opening notes hit, and Winona struts out in something silver and tight that catches and amplifies every light in the arena, her curves on full display as that familiar jealousy spikes inside of me. I know men are lusting after her. I know she would never lust back, but it still nearly puts me into a murderous rage, just knowing their eyes are enjoying what’s fucking mine. In approximately ninety minutes, I tell myself, I’ll be rage-fucking my jealousy into her tight cunt once again.
Or her ass. Or maybe between her tits.
Or all of the above.
My whole body clenches as she finds me in the wings like she always does. Just one quick glance, a secret smile, and I have to grip the stroller handle to keep from storming out there and throwing her over my shoulder.
The kids are both wearing custom sound-deadening earphones, because the volume of the music at this distance is no fucking joke. I’m as protective of them as I am of my wife.
Five years married. Three kids. And the hunger just keeps getting fucking worse.
I manage her now. Every contract, every tour date, every interview request is filtered through me, because I trust exactly no one else with her career. Or her safety. Or her anything. Six guards rotate shifts around her, all ex-military, all handpicked, all aware that if they so much as look at her too long, I will personally rearrange their skeletal structure.
Joey is still around as well. He’s still her driverwhenever I’m not around. One of the few people I trust to be with her without me.
Paranoid? Maybe.
Rose was good to her for a while, then I secretly found out they were putting her on a diet. Throwing out these little digs at her about her weight. I shut that shit down fast, and I’ve been in charge since. Losing that agency didn’t matter. She had already built a fandom, and we leaned hard into the body-positive aspect of my babygirl.
She’s healthy, her body is her body, and I make sure she eats right. If she carries those lush curves around, and she’s happy? That’s all that matters.
But I spent too many years watching her from a distance, wanting what I couldn't have. Now that she's mine, I'm not taking any chances.
Doesn't help that she still tests me. She wears things she knows will drive me insane. Forgets to eat before shows, even though I've told her a hundred goddamn times. Posts photos online that make my phone blow up with comments from men who don't know how close they are to death just for typing.
Little rebellions, little sparks, and I used to think she was just being a brat, until I figured out what she actually needed.
When I take control, something in her goes quiet. All that noise in her head, all the anxiety, the pressure of being perfect for all these people, it just... stops. She doesn't have to think. Doesn't have to decide. Just has to be mine, and let me handle the rest.
