The dickbag boyfriend had no family, and the only family my sister had left was me. Since I also happened to be, for one, not a fucking junkie, and two, very very wealthy, I guess the state just made the decision that family or not, I was a far better choice than “the system” for Kenzie.
I’d said yes over the phone, glancing at the picture they’d emailed over of the gawky little ten year old I’d seen maybe twice, and probably not since the picture was taken.
Big. Fucking. Mistake.
Because if they’d sent a picture of her the way she was now? Yeah, hell no. I’d have taken one look at eighteen year old Kenzie Gates and seen how monumentally stupid it would be to invite a girl like that to live with a guy like me.
Because Kenzie Gates had grown the fuck up.
Hard.
Because the girl who’d been standing on my front porch next to the social worker when I’d opened the door was five-foot nine inches and one-hundred and eleven pounds of pure. Fucking. Temptation.
Long, auburn hair, pouty, coy pink lips, and big, sultry blue eyes that screamed “bait.” All legs, small, perky tits, and a tight little ass that was begging for someone to take a bite out of it. Curvy hips, and a flat, supple little tummy that’d been peeking out from under a belly-shirt that first day and hadn’t actually stopped ever since.
She’d been here for one month, four days, and eleven hours. And I’d been hard as steel for her for one month, four days, ten hours and fifty-nine and a half minutes.
Constantly.
I gritted my teeth and glanced at the Cartier watch on my wrist.
Late. I growled again, feeling the blood roaring like fire inside of me. I couldn’t take it anymore, and I couldn’t deny myself any longer. That night, I wouldn’t be denying myself any more.
I knew it was wrong — so very wrong — but I didn’t give a shit. Not anymore. Not after swallowing back the lust, and need, and the raw desire to make her mine for so long. Her tight, hot little body made me crave her, and the teasing, flippant, bratty way she sashayed her way around this house had had me living on edge for a month.
And she fucking knew it. This wasn’t some innocent girl who didn’t yet understand the effect she had on men. Nope. Kenzie was a grade-A, flirty, bratty, barely-legal little cock-tease, and she fucking knew it.
And on top of all of this, it wasn't just me she was teasing…
Lincoln was my best friend in the world — a man closer to me than a brother. We’d served together way back. We’d started Hammer and Spark together afterwards, and when we’d sold the mercenary contractor outfit we’d built with our bare hands to another, bigger, company and cashed out, we’d both gotten filthy rich together.
I’d bought my enormous house immediately, but Linc was in the middle of custom building his dream home. And since it was close to mine, and since my place was almost literally a castle, he’d spent the last few months living with me.
…Including when Kenzie had shown up.
So, yeah, the whole thing would’ve been bad enough if it was just me that she was fucking with, and flashing her tight little body to while wearing next to nothing all the fucking time. But it was Lincoln too.
And like I said, the little cock-tease knew exactly what she was doing, to both of us. She was pushing her fucking luck because she knew I was hesitant to act because of how hard she made me. And she knew it was the same damn thing with Lincoln. Staying out late, missing curfew, fucking off on all the summer workload she had before she went off to college in the fall — she’d gotten away with murder the last month.
But the buck was going to stop that night.
No more of me being a pussy pushover, and no more of her getting away with it. The little brat had pushed me too far. And that night, I was going to take matters into my own hands.
There was the rattle of keys in the front door, and I glanced at Lincoln across the kitchen island, seeing the hard, heated look on his face, which mirrored mine.
“Easy, Wild,” he growled, his jaw tight.
I shook my head, hearing the front door kick open.
“No.” I tensed, my muscles bunching, my hands clenching to fists, and my cock throbbing rock fucking hard between my thighs.
“No more easy with her. Tonight, we’re doing it the hard way.”
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Tempting Daddy’s Boss
Copyright © 2017 Madison Faye
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Tempting Daddy’s Boss
I’m keeping her all to myself, whether she knows it or not.
An angel like little Lyra Worthington has no business being anywhere near a cold, calculating monster like me.
But she’s been mine since the second she poured herself into my world. And now, I’m never letting her go.
I know she’s off-limits.
I know she’s too young for me, and too innocent, and too untouched. But I bet she tastes like heaven and feels like sin, and tonight, I plan on finding out how right I am.
She’s tempting me - enticing me. She’s provoking me like a naughty little brat looking for trouble. And believe when I say, she’s going to find it with me.
I’ll call her angel. She’ll call me daddy.
I play for keeps, I take what’s mine, and I keep what I take. And tonight, I’m taking her.
Super sweet, so filthy you’ll need a bath, and over-the-top wrong. But, if you’re looking for something wildly dirty, not really grounded in reality, and safe, this one’s for you! Utterly obsessed alpha hero, sassy, untouched heroine, and insta-love, smut, and sugary-sweetness galore. HEA with NO CHEATING!
*No one is related in this story*
Chapter 1
Lyra
I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t, and I know it. But maybe there’s something about this place that makes me want to do what I shouldn’t.
…Maybe there’s something about him that makes me want to break the rules.
The room is warm, and it’s dark in here but for the neon glow of the city illuminating the room through the enormous, floor-length glass that makes up the entire corner office. Views of all of New York and most of Brooklyn dazzle and sparkle through the window, giving me just enough light to see what I came here for.
No one should be in here. Not here, and not like this. Mostly because of whose domain this is of course. Because the man who sets his seat of power here isn’t one to be messed with, and I’m sure he wouldn’t like people coming into his office without invitation. Certainly not after hours, in the dark, and certainly not with what’s hanging on the walls.
Millions, and I do mean millions of dollars in original Impressionist era paintings.
They’re the reason I’m here. I’ve never met the man whose office this is and whose business this is, even if my internship in this very firm starts on Monday. But I know enough to be more than a little frightened. Powerful, aggressive, cold, calculating.
Brutal.
Damien Castle’s reputation is a thing of legend in the world of huge-money hedge funds. But, great art is great art, and I decided it was worth the risk. I can half-hear the cocktail party that’s happening on the floor below me — the partygoers out on the huge garden terraces that wrap around the building.
Above them sits this floor, where the magic happens. This is where the man whose art this is commands his billion dollar business with an iron grip. And above here, there’s only his personal quarters — his penthouse apartment that occupies the entire top floor of the midtown Manhattan building. That’s how driven the legendarily fearsome Mr. Castle is. He sle