Twenty-four-year-old Charmaine Bainbridge appears to have it all—beauty, fame, and tremendous wealth—yet behind all the glitz and glamor hides a sad little girl who has been abandoned by every man she’s ever loved.
When firefighter Hunter Baldwin saves Charmaine from a fire in her penthouse apartment—a blaze started by her own carelessness—he’s appalled by her nonchalant attitude. Forced to carry her to safety, he throws her over his shoulder, but not before correcting her behavior with a well-deserved spanking. Something about Charmaine arouses him deeply, and it isn’t just her gorgeous looks. This girl needs to be firmly corrected and thoroughly dominated, and a part of Hunter demands that he be the one to take her in hand.
Though he’s used to charging into burning buildings on a daily basis, Hunter knows taming Charmaine’s wild ways may prove to be his greatest challenge yet. Undeterred, he takes on the role of Charmaine’s daddy dom in hopes of breaking down her defenses and healing her wounds. But can she bring herself to open her heart to him, or will she remain the lonely little rich girl forever?
Publisher’s Note: Poor Little Daddy’s Girl is the third book in the Daddy’s Girl series. It incorporates characters from the first two books in the series, but it is a stand-alone novel. This book includes spankings, sexual scenes, BDSM content, and more.
This made him chuckle. "You have needs, huh? Well, right now, you need to stop talking and let me fuck you senseless."
He touched a warning finger to her lips and she widened her eyes to show she was complicit with his plan. They hurriedly dispensed with the rest of their clothes and he picked her up and tossed her on the new sofa. "Need to christen this anyway," he teased.
She nodded, wide eyed, showing great restraint by not saying anything - just like Daddy asked.
Excerpt . . .
“Are you sure this thing is safe?” she asked, biting her lip.
“Yeah,” he chuckled. “I’ve only gotten stuck in here a few times.”
She stared at him open-mouthed. “You’re kidding. A few times?” The elevator jerked and they swayed from side to side, causing anxiety to replace the butterflies in her stomach.
“Nope. But we’ve got our cell phones.”
“Crap, I left mine in my purse, and I think I left it at the bar.”
“For real? You left your purse?” he looked at her with disappointment.
She nodded. “Well, you threw me off in the bathroom…with the…” her voice trailed off. Dammit, they’d been getting along so well and now he’d have another reason to fuss at her. Not to mention she’d have to spend the next couple of days figuring out how to cancel all her credit and debit cards. Ugh. She needed to hire an assistant to help her deal with crap like that.
Before they were out of the elevator, Hunter called the bar. While he waited for them to pick up he asked her to describe her purse.
“Baby blue Birkin,” she said.
“Baby blue Birkin,” he said into the phone with a puzzled look on his face. She giggled. When he said it, it sounded like a tongue twister. Clearly he’d never heard of the most expensive handbags in the world. But why would he have? More than likely it was a good thing he didn’t know that she’d left a thirty thousand dollar bag behind. He’d kill her. Hell, he probably hadn’t made that much money all of last year. Yeah, better he didn’t know.
He ended the call and the elevator stopped. He opened the gate for her, and she stepped out into the open space of his apartment. The furnishings were spare, but mostly of decent quality—an easy chair, a leather club chair, what looked to be a comfortable sofa, and a distressed wood coffee table outfitted the main room. A few items looked as if they might have come from a flea market, but for the most part she was impressed. The place was neat and tidy, which told her he was proud of his domain.
“You’re in luck. They found your bag and the manager already put it in the back. You can go by tomorrow and pick it up.”
“I’ll send Rollins,” she said.
“Who’s Rollins? And you’re welcome by the way,” he said.
She reached her lips up to kiss him on the cheek. “Thank you. He’s my driver.”
“You have a driver?” he looked at her like the idea was absurd. “What are you, Miss Daisy? Who needs a driver?”
She tilted her chin primly. “I do.”
“What in the world for, don’t you know how to drive?” He stared at her as if she were nuts, and inside she felt a twinge of delight. She loved to push people’s buttons.
“If you must know, I’m a terrible driver for one, and for two, I like to enjoy a cocktail from time to time. You wouldn’t want me behind the wheel inebriated would you?”
He considered this. “I guess not. Here.” He pulled a knife from his back pocket and showed it to her. “I’m going to cut you loose.”
“Are you sure you can trust me?” she laughed.
With one quick pass he sliced the thick plastic bands and they fell to the floor. “Trust you to do what?”
She shook her arms. As much as she’d enjoyed their little game, it did feel good to have that freedom of movement back. “Not to run away,” she teased.
He folded up the knife and placed it back in his pocket before taking her in his arms. “Oh, I’m not worried about that. You’re not going anywhere.” His lips descended upon hers and she let herself fall against him. The butterflies in her stomach fluttered, churning up a deep, ripe lust.
His hand dipped down, and he reached under her skirt, gliding a hand across her skin, over her hips and ass. Suddenly, she remembered the last time his hands had been all over her ass, spanking her cheeks then rubbing them with his comforting touch once he’d soundly spanked them. Was he thinking about that right now the way she was?
Without preamble, he lifted her dress over her head and tossed it on the floor. She stood there in her expensive cream-colored bra and panties with light blue accents. Stretching her arms above her head she asked, “Should we adjourn to the bedroom now?”
He chuckled and shook his head no. “You’d like that wouldn’t you?” He circled her slowly. “You’re quite a tiger. But you’ve come to the wrong place if you think you’re going to call the shots with me. Go stand behind that chair,” he said pointing to an easy chair in the middle of the room that faced a big screen TV.
It had been a while since she’d been around a man who had the confidence to order her around. Had Preston been the last? Possibly, she thought, and walked over to his chair, wishing he’d chosen the leather. This one was so ugly it should be illegal. She stared at the oversized monstrosity hoping it wasn’t velour.
“Put your elbows on the back of the chair, lean over and stick your ass out.”
His words alone were enough to get her wet, and she forgot all about her misgivings about the chair. She did as he asked, feeling a thrill as she realized he’d be able to see her arousal from behind her. Her tiny panties wouldn’t hide that.
He inched his body behind hers so he almost touched her. His scent, pine and cedar mixed with a manly musk, drifted under her nostrils and she breathed it in and wanted more.
As if sensing her need, he pressed his legs against hers. With one arm around her waist he pulled her rear back against him, and fondled her breast with his free hand. Her nipples strained against the soft fabric of her bra, nerve endings coming alive, relishing his touch. He nuzzled the sensitive spot behind her ear and nibbled her earlobe. “Damn, you’re too attractive for your own good,” he growled into her ear. A quiver of excitement danced down her spine, and she ached for him to touch her pussy.
“So are you,” she said, nudging her ass back against him. She could feel his erection straining at his jeans, and she wanted it, didn’t have the patience to wait.
He kissed her neck then stood up and backed away from her. “Must you have a response for everything?” he asked testily.
“It’s called having a conversation,” she said smartly.
“Well, do you want to have a conversation or do you want to get fucked?” he growled.
“Excuse me?” she pretended to be offended.
Suddenly he grabbed her hair at the nape of her neck and tugged. The energy coming from him was palpable. “Listen here, little girl. I thought you wanted this. If you don’t, then say the word now. I can tell you’ve been around the merry-go-round before. What’s your safeword?”
“Red,” she said meekly. She’d always been afraid she’d forget anything fancier.
“Fine, then say it if you want. Say it now and leave. Call Robbin or whatever his name is to come get you because I don’t play games, and I’m not interested in playing them with you.”
Her heart beat loud in her chest. “No, I’m sorry. I’m just chatty, but I’ll be quiet. I promise,” she pleaded. Whether he was really irritated or whether this was part of his intimidating-dom thing, she didn’t know. Either way he’d gotten her adrenaline flowing.
About The Author . . .
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