20. Jack

20

JACK

Things go on as usual. Except not at all.

Because Camilla loves me.

I never realized how that word can change everything. Never been with someone who made me feel that way. Never got there. And somehow in just two months, Camilla Graff has stolen my heart, and I guess my mind to.

I've been walking on air for the past two weeks, able to deal with every task without batting an eye because in the back of my mind I know.

Camilla Graff loves me.

Me! Someone who has believed his whole life he was born to be unlovable. Who believed it was an objective fact.

Not so, Jack Lyons, not so.

The second Abigail saw us, I knew that the cat was out of the bag as far as my family is concerned. She had the decency to hold off until a couple of days after the twins were born, but once she did, the texts haven't stopped.

Of course, Nate and Mason had already guessed after Camilla arrived at my house unprompted. Seth was a bit more taken aback, playing a big brother role to her, giving me the whole, "Don't hurt her," thing, to which I said never . Abigail, Bridget, and Laney are all eager to get Camilla out for dinner to pick her brain.

The only person who hasn't said anything is Dad. Well, Sonia too, but she gets a pass, what with becoming a mom and everything.

I don't blame him, though. Other than the night I met the twins, we haven't spoken. I avoided family dinners after our spat at the club too. So…who knows what he's thinking.

Or if he even cares.

While my family knows, though, we're still not out at work. It's harder than ever to remain professional in the office. I've been stealing more and more moments, and I can tell the rest of the staff is starting to get suspicious.

Which is why I'm letting the cat out of the bag today.

It's past five o'clock, which means nothing to Camilla. She works until she's done. I've been trying to keep her from doing that, but it's hard to be her Daddy in the office when we've agreed to separate the work and the personal.

Which is a ridiculous concept. Separating work and personal? Who has that kind of compartmentalization? Not even my workaholic father was able to do that when faced with the woman of his dreams.

I dipped out, telling her I was going to pick up some coffee so we could work late. In actuality, I've picked up a bouquet of flowers for her.

Tonight, Camilla is going on a date. With me, of course.

She might not take kindly to it at first, but I've had enough of her pushing herself to the brink of sanity every night getting things in order for Keiki. In all of this time, we've never been on an official date. Our relationship has shuttled between the office and the penthouse, back and forth, back and forth. Nothing in between.

Tonight, I want to spoil my baby girl rotten.

Bouquet in one hand and Bergdorf's bag in the other, I enter the office, passing a few of our employees heading out. They all eye what I'm carrying with suspicion but say cheerful goodbyes without questioning me.

Camilla is standing at the copy machine. Making copies of lord knows what. There's always something to make copies of.

I sneak up behind her and plant a kiss on her cheek.

"Jack!" she hisses. "It's barely five thirty, people are still–"

I shove the flowers into her arms as she turns toward me.

Camilla accepts the bouquet, though confusion is rampant on her face. "What are these for?"

"For you, of course."

"But why?"

I narrow my eyes. "Are you seriously asking that question?"

Camilla blushes, then dips her nose down to smell the mauve roses. Her shoulders relax. "They smell amazing. Thank you. But what's the occasion?"

I will need to make the flowers more of a habit in the future. I don't want the woman I love thinking that there needs to be an occasion for her to receive flowers. Today, though, she is right, it is a very special occasion. "I'm taking you out tonight."

Her eyes bug out, flickering amber through her eyes. I hold in a laugh. "But I have to–"

"Nope, all work is on pause until nine tomorrow morning. In fact, I don't want you working past five ever again," I say. "But I know that will be harder to convince you of, so I'll start with tonight only."

Camilla shakes her head. "If I had known, I would have worn–"

Her black turtleneck and skintight jeans are enough for me, but I hold up the shopping bag. "Already covered. Although I think you look perfect in what you're wearing."

She finally smiles. "You love buying me clothes."

"Obviously." I take her hand and wrap it around the handle of the bag, then lean in close to her ear. "I'm your Daddy, baby girl. I like buying you nice things."

" Jack …"

"I like making you feel like a princess. You should never feel anything less."

Camilla turns her face toward mine, her nose brushing through my hair. "You're going to get us in trouble."

"Aren't you lucky that we're the bosses, then?"

She giggles. "It's a lot of responsibility, but it does have its perks, I guess."

"Exactly. Now–" I slide my hand around her backside and give it a squeeze. "Be a good girl and change for Daddy."

Camilla's whole body shivers.

I love having that effect on her.

She kisses my cheek and murmurs, "Yes, Daddy."

I watch as she saunters off.

Camilla will be the death of me, and I will say thank you when that day comes.

In her glimmering, silver dress, Camilla truly looks like a princess. It plunges low to show off the swells of her breasts, sleeveless to show off her beautiful, bare shoulders, and compliments the cool undertones of her skin.

She looks more delicious than any part of our Michelin-starred meal. Even the alien-looking orb of a dessert doesn't measure up.

Camilla delves her spoon into the mousse or gelatin or whatever it is. Her eyes narrow before she slides the spoon into her mouth. "Mm. It's good."

I take a spoonful too. It's creamy and fruity and also…strange.

I watch her take a few measured bites, jealous of the spoon each time it pops in and out of her mouth.

"If you want…we can ditch whatever this is and go get a real dessert instead."

She pauses, the silver spoon perched between her lips. A smile curls across her face. "Ice cream?"

"Ice cream when it's thirty degrees out?"

"It's always a good time for ice cream."

Whatever my baby girl wants…

So, in our Michelin-starred best, we leave the restaurant and walk down the streets of New York City arm in arm to get ice cream.

We could take my car, but there's something far more romantic about the walk.

It's cold, so Camilla has to nuzzle herself against my side, wrapping herself in the furry stole I purchased for her along with her evening gown.

"It's snowing," she whispers.

First snow of the season. Flakes whip through the air on the wind. Probably won't stick. But still, romantic as hell.

"Yeah, I paid off the weather guy to get it to snow."

Camilla laughs, nudging me in my side. "If you could, you would."

"You're right about that."

I keep stealing glances in her direction. She gets more beautiful by the day. That sparkling smile, long dark lashes, button nose. None of that compares to her heart. The way she speaks to me. Her patience and her simultaneous ruthlessness toward fools.

I picture myself with her for a long time. If not forever. Forever feels like I might be setting myself up for an inevitable heartbreak.

But forever is hard not to imagine.

Especially when we're in line at the ice cream shop and she smiles down at a little girl not even tall enough to see into the glass who is attempting to order a cone for herself.

Camilla looks at the girl's mother and mutters, "So cute."

That could be her and a child one day. Mine.

"What are you getting?"

I have to clear my throat to shake away the thoughts of Camilla having my children because we're on our literal first date in public. "Not sure yet, have to decide."

I settle on cookie dough, Camilla on mint chocolate chip, and we sit together, licking at our ice cream cones. "You're going to get me fat if you let me have two desserts every night?"

"The one we had doesn't even count. It was a warmup."

Camilla smiles and grabs my knee under the table. "Have I said ‘I love you' yet?"

Plenty of times. We say it as often as we breathe almost. "Not that I recall."

Camilla grins. "Well, I love you, Jack Lyons. Not just for the flowers or the dresses or for the ice cream."

I'm compelled to ask what reasons she keeps for loving me. I'd love to know them.

But we're interrupted by the little girl who sidles up to our table with chocolate on her mouth.

She looks back at her mother who gives an encouraging nod. Then, the little girl licks her lips and says to Camilla, "I think you look like a princess."

Camilla beams, and so do I. She leans closer to the little girl. "You look like a princess too."

The little girl smiles and skips back to her mother.

When Camilla looks back at me, she has tears in her eyes. "Why do they have to be so cute like that?"

I take measured breaths. As if I wasn't already trying to quell visions of our future, that vision gets shoved right in my face. Thank god she's on birth control or else I might beg her to let me give her a little princess, just like her.

"Baby girl, you don't just look like a princess. You are one."

Camilla leans on her elbow, looking at me from under her dark lashes. Her ice cream drips down onto the back of her fingers. "Dammit, I was trying to be sexy."

She runs her tongue over her fingers and up the scoop of ice cream.

I reach under the table, brushing my fingers over her knee. "Oh, baby girl, you don't have to try to do that at all."

We take the car home. Well, not home. Because halfway through the drive to Camilla's apartment, she leans into my lap, grabs my thigh, and breathes into my ear, "I'm wet, Daddy."

I extend my arm over the back of the seat and lean closer to her. "You uncomfortable, baby girl?"

She nods.

"You need Daddy to touch your pussy?"

She giggles. "Yes, Daddy."

I grab her thigh, a handful and a half. "Fuck, baby girl."

I instruct my driver, Rich, to put the partition up and drive. We're not getting out of this car until my baby girl is taken care of.

It's a switch. Just flips on when the time is right. The dominant part of me that for so long was sleepy comes alive, and I'm ready to go to the ends of the earth to take care of my baby girl.

The second the partition is closed, I pull her onto my lap, grab a handful of her hair, and pull her mouth to mine.

She's already rutting against me, searching for erection. And isn't she lucky I'm always half-hard around her. It only takes a few swipes of her center over mine to have me hard as a rock, even with all the fabric between us.

"Pull up your dress," I growl.

Camilla does so, revealing her pretty panties. I bought those for her too. Lacy and sweet with a little rosette on the front. I hook my fingers into them and pull them down enough for my fingers to coast right between her folds. "You weren't lying."

"I don't lie, Daddy."

"No, you don't, because you're a good girl, right?"

"Only for you, Daddy."

I keep swiping my fingers through her slit, gathering her wetness. My god, I would slide right in. All the way in without an issue or pause.

I want this to last, though. I want every moment with Camilla to last, but especially when she's my baby girl. When she needs me beyond sense.

I tuck two fingers inside her.

She sinks down onto them without prompting, her head rolling back.

I use my thumb to caress her clit. "Ride my fingers, baby."

"Yes, Daddy."

A primal sound resounds in my chest.

Camilla slides up and down my fingers, her moans growing louder and louder. Her head rolls back, her eyes close. She holds onto my shoulders to steady herself.

She needs me.

"Want another one, baby?"

"Yes, Daddy."

"Say please."

"P-please, Daddy."

I fit another finger into her, and her body jumps. "So full, baby girl."

As she continues to bounce, I pull one strap of her dress down, exposing her breast.

I pop her pebbled nipple into my mouth, eliciting a loud groan from her. And while I lap at the tender bud, I continue to circle her clit with my thumb until I can tell she's getting tired.

"You want to come for Daddy?"

"Nnngh, yes Daddy." When her voice gets low and rumbly, it sets off my arousal like nothing else. Because she's a good little girl, but she's also a full ass woman who knows what she wants.

"Circle your hips."

Camilla winds her hips around and whimpers, my fingers prodding at her in all the right places.

"That's my good girl."

"Close, I'm close."

A knot forms in my throat. "Look at Daddy when you come."

Camilla's eyes pop open.

I press her clit like a button.

Her whole body jumps and stutters. Her walls clench around my fingers and a brittle whine breaks from her mouth.

"That's right, baby, I've got you. Keep going." I continue to pump my fingers.

She does. And she doesn't take her eyes from mine. They're clouding with tears.

"Intense, baby?"

All Camilla can do is hum.

Her hands clamp on my shoulders, and her hips buck a few times on my hand before every muscle in her body gives out, and she drapes herself over my shoulder.

With reluctance, I remove my fingers from her sweet pussy.

"Let me taste," I whisper.

She watches as I pop them in my mouth and moan at the taste of her angelic essence.

"So sweet for me." I lick the tip of my thumb.

Camilla smiles at me, one hand against my pounding heart. A smile so sweet, you'd be shocked to know she was just writhing on my fingers.

"Get on your belly. I'm fucking you now."

"Yes, Daddy."

Camilla rolls onto the seat, face down, ass up.

I release myself from my pants, stroking my cock, so hard it's almost painful.

I kneel one leg on the seat, the other I place against the floor of the car. I push myself between her folds, let my head slide past her opening. "Already so wet again, baby."

"Always, Daddy. For you."

Her words are a lightning bolt to my cock. It jumps. "You need me?" I ask. "Inside?"

"Yes, I need you inside, Daddy."

I push my hips forward and sink into her, rolling my head back. Fucking tight, always fucking tight for me. I start to make shallow thrusts. "You need Daddy to fuck you?"

Camilla moans into the leather seat. "So bad, Daddy. Need you so bad."

I push myself deeper, feel her walls gripping me, enjoying her mewling. I run my hands over her ass.

My mouth grows hot. "You need me always, baby?"

Her voice turns to gravel, low in her chest again. "I need you forever, Daddy."

I fuck her until she doesn't know words. I fuck her until she's come twice again. I fuck her until I'm at my wit's end. I fuck her until I can't fuck her anymore.

And when I release into her, my darling girl, in throes of euphoria and lacking any more sense, repeats over and over, "I need you, I need you, I need you."

I will never let her go. Never.