Man of the House: A Dark Bad Boy Romance(10)

“You can stay here as long as you want,” he said. “Bar is all ours, records are all yours.”

“Thanks.”

“I’ll see you later, Emily.”

I nodded, biting my lip. He turned and quickly left, and I released a pent-up breath.

I needed to be smarter than this. I couldn’t let myself be alone in a room late at night with a man like Carter. I could barely control myself and I knew that if he had made a move to kiss me, I would have let him. I wouldn’t have had had the strength to stop him. I wanted him more than I cared to admit to myself, and that was a problem.

I couldn’t believe that I wanted to feel my stepfather’s cock deep inside of me.





6





Carter





The last thing I wanted to do was walk away from Emily, but apparently the world wasn’t going to conspire with me. Maybe I should have taken my bad luck as a sign that I shouldn’t be trying to f*ck my stepdaughter, even though we’re not related and she’s still age appropriate, but no, that wasn’t me. Signs or no signs, I was going to try and take what I wanted and forget about everything else.

As I headed toward my head of security’s office, I kept thinking about the way Emily was looking at me. She was practically begging for me, her eyes wide and her mouth hanging open. I pictured my cock pressing between those pretty lips, sliding down her throat, making her gag. I bet she could suck cock like it was breathing, and I wanted to see her pretty body down on her knees in front of me, doing whatever I told her to do.

I had to stop in front of a window for a second, opening it up to breathe in the cool night air. My cock was f*cking rock hard and I couldn’t go into a meeting with my head of security with a f*cking hard-on. I needed to get a f*cking grip.

It wasn’t like me getting all f*cking crazy about some girl. I’d been with plenty of women with nice bodies, some of them models, some of them just wet and begging for it. I didn’t get my playboy reputation for no reason. But I’d never before gotten hung up on a girl like apparently I was getting hung up on Emily. I just couldn’t get her out of my head, no matter how hard I tried. She could easily be the f*cking downfall of everything that I was trying to achieve, and yet I just kept picturing her down on all fours, ass in the air, dripping wet * begging to get f*cked.

I took a few more deep breaths and counted to ten. By the time I hit zero, I was decent enough. I shut the window and quickly hurried to Cox’s office, trying not to get all f*cking excited again.

I knocked once then opened the door. Cox was sitting behind his desk when I entered, looking gravely worried, which wasn’t unusual at all. Cox was in his forties, an ex Special Forces guy with a buzz cut and a bunch of tattoos. I liked him a lot, though I didn’t really know him all that well. He took his job as the head of security very seriously and did it well without any complaints, and so I paid him a ton to keep him around. Since my place constantly had so many guests and was so big, I needed full-time security like him and a few of his guys.

“How’s it going?” I asked him.

He grunted. “Fine.”

I took a seat in front of his desk. “You sounded worried over the phone. What happened?”

“We got a letter, sir.”

“Dispense with the ‘sir’ shit for one night, will you?”

He ignored me, like he always did, and produced a letter. I took it from him and slowly skimmed it as he spoke.

“Basic threatening letter, sir. We don’t usually bother you with them since we get maybe one or two every week and they never pan out. This one is different.”

“It’s specific,” I said, noticing right away.

“That’s right. It’s very specific.”

The letter said that basically they were going to bomb my office if I didn’t step down from Valor Tech. They said I had a week before the bombing would happen.

I saw a few of the crazy letters back before I hired Cox full-time. They were usually much more general about their threats. Normally it was along the lines of, “I’m going to kill you with a tire iron, you cock sucking faggot” and “Go f*ck yourself, you cunt bitch, I’ll cut your throat and dance on your grave.”

People that write these letters aren’t really very nice, but they were harmless. Usually, at least. Cox checked them out if they left a name and a return address, and normally they were just disgruntled rednecks looking to blame someone else for their problems. Sometimes, though, they were seriously deranged, and Cox would keep an eye on those people.

“What should we do about this?” I asked him.

“I’m passing it along to a buddy of mine in the force, sir,” he said. “Hopefully he can help.”

“You think the cops can do something you can’t?”

“Maybe.” He shrugged and didn’t look convinced. “I would avoid your office on this day, just to be safe.”

I smiled at him, handing him back the letter and standing. “Cox, I can’t let a bunch of crazy *s dictate how I live my life.”

“Whatever you say, sir.”

“Good night. Thanks for showing me this.”

“Of course.”

I nodded and left, suddenly feeling exhausted. I’d been working on a heuristic problem around how my little AI drone was going to identify humans when I decided to see Emily. Now, I was well and truly exhausted, and realized that I wasn’t going to get any more work done.