Chapter 13

Vance

Everything is a game to Isabella. The lack of self-preservation is unbelievable. Who eats a gift from someone who broke into your house to leave it?

She shouldn't trust any of them when most of that family is so unhappy about the union. I certainly don't, so that's why I wasn't kidding when I said I planned to change the locks.

I don't trust people within their network, so I called my friend. He's away at the moment, but he agreed to come late in the day tomorrow. I guess she'll just be attached to my fucking hip until then. Hopefully, we don't get any more visitors.

We're watching some TV together. No one is talking, which I expected. Isabella didn't like feeling my mouth on her cunt and then being told she won't get it again. She can't seem to understand that it's for her safety. If it weren't for people sniffing around here, I'd bury myself in her pussy every chance I get, but people are coming around when they shouldn't. I have to stay far away from my temptation while simultaneously keeping her as close as ever.

She uncurls her legs from beneath her as she gets up from the couch, and I grab her wrist as she walks by.

"Where are you going?" I ask.

"Bathroom," she says, ripping away from my touch. "And I don't want company."

I let her huff her way down the hall, and then I wait for the bathroom door to close before I get up and follow. I lean my ear against the cool wooden door and listen. It's not that I want to hear her peeing, but I don't believe she's only taking a bathroom break.

Isabella likes to ruffle feathers when she's upset. She likes to get people like me going.

Just as I suspected, a low moan rolls beneath the door. The sound warms my blood and brings me right back to the moment when her thighs clamped against my cheeks.

I shake my head. I'm not playing her game, and that's exactly what it is. A game. Isabella is used to acting up to get what she wants, and what she wants is more of me.

But we can't, no matter how much we want to. She'll soon be married off, and I've already taken too much of her innocence and shattered it with my fingers and tongue. I can't risk taking anything more.

Then she moans my fucking name.

The singular syllable rolls off her lips on a pleasure-laced breath, and I want to be the one forcing that sound out of her. She shouldn't be giving it to herself. That was one of my rules.

Against my better judgment, I barge into the unlocked bathroom.

She gasps in feigned surprise, but she knows what she's doing. She's perched on the sink, her shorts on the floor beneath her. Her thighs are spread, and she's not wearing panties. Her fingers move along her swollen clit as she bites into that perfect lower lip.

I step into her, putting my hand on the wrist lying against her mound, and stop her motion as I lean into her.

"Stop it, little girl."

She raises her chin. "I may be your little girl, but I'm an adult."

She sure as fuck is.

And she knows exactly what to say to drive me wild. To make me want to throw everything I said out the window. But instead of giving her anything she wants, I tug her off the counter, turn her around, and push her chest to the granite.

When I turn my body toward her side, I pin the back of her neck with one hand as I slide my free hand down her back. "You might call me daddy, but you sure don't listen to a fucking word I say, do you?"

She shakes her head and relaxes against the countertop. My hand rides along her ass, gliding over the incredible curves that make me weak. I ball her hair at the nape of her neck, and she whimpers as I crane it back.

"I walked in on you rubbing your pretty little cunt, but I remember telling you not to touch yourself. Didn't I?"

"Yes, daddy," she moans.

"Do you know what happens to bratty little girls who disobey?" I rub my hand over her skin before raising it and bringing it down on her ass in a hard slap.

She whimpers and tries to pull away from the pain, but I rub my hand along her skin, comforting it with the warm heat of my palm.

This daddy thing isn't something I'm totally comfortable with, but she seems to have grown to love it. Letting her call me daddy is just one more thing I do for her.

I draw back my hand and give her another harsh spanking. She moans and squeezes her thighs together, but I put my hand between them and pull them apart.

"Keep those pretty little thighs spread for me. I want to see how wet you get from this."

She growls. "Why does it matter? You won't do anything about it."

I spank her again. "I know I won't. But that doesn't mean I don't want to see how dripping wet your cunt gets for me."

Her ass cheeks redden to a beautiful hue, and I smack her again, rubbing the pain away with my palm. Turning her whimper into a moan. By now, her slit is gleaming with wetness. She looks good enough to fucking eat, and I really wish she didn't.

"Please, daddy, can I have another?" she begs.

Yeah, she is testing every ounce of my resistance.

I oblige her, giving her the hardest smack of all, and it pushes her forward. She grips the sink to brace against my strength, and her thighs quiver as if every hit sends vibrations through her entire body.

"I need to come, please," she pants.

I pull my hand from her and tug her up by her hair. Her lips are so close to mine.

"That's not going to happen," I whisper.

She blows out a frustrated breath. I'm frustrated too. I'm aching for her, but we can't.

And if I can't get relief, neither can she.