I’m an asshole.

I know I should’ve said no. I should’ve told Daisy to go home, where her brother needs her, where she can live a happy life without me. I can only bring her trouble.

Problem is, I still want to keep her for myself.

After everything that’s been said and done, after everything I’ve put her through, I don’t have any right. I can’t ask anything of her, much less demand her to hold up her end of the bargain just because I gave her more money.

Still, when she told me she wanted to spend more time with me, I couldn’t say no. I agreed, and she told me she was going to be waiting for me at home tonight.

I can’t work like this. There’s way too much shit going on in my head.

That’s why I’m here at Pop’s. Everything within me yearns to go home, to see Daisy as much as possible while I still can, but a small, annoying voice within me says that would be a mistake.

I need to know how to face her before I do. I was caught by surprise in my office earlier today, and I ended up making a questionable decision.

So, like all the other times when I didn’t know what to do, I’m going to ask Pop.

This time it’s different, though. I’ve never asked him for advice about women before, but that was before, when he had a shitty marriage and many other shitty relationships.

Now, or at least for the past few days, he seems happy and content with Bertha around. I still don’t know if I can ever accept her as my mother, or even if she wants me to, but I know Pop seems happy around her. So, maybe he has some advice for me, after making his own mistakes with women and finally getting it right.

Over the past half hour, I’ve been telling Pop and Bertha all about what has happened between Daisy and me, leaving out the sex stuff, of course. They don’t need to know anything about that.

Bertha seems appalled that I’d pay Daisy for sex. “She seems like such a nice girl,” she says.

“She is,” I say defensively. “She was just in a tight spot because she has to take care of her brother.”

“And you used that to make her do what you want.” Bertha asks. I can tell that she wants to keep her mouth shut, she wants to repair our relationship, but the story I’ve just told her is apparently just too distasteful for her to stay quiet.

“Yes, and I regret doing that. What can I say? I can’t take back what I’ve already done. I know I don’t deserve her, but I can’t say no if she wants to stick around. I just don’t know what to do next. I’m no good for her. Maybe I should tell her to go home.”

Pop maintains his neutral expression and says nothing. Like I said, we never talk about women, but I know—I’d bet money on it—that Pop has definitely made similar arrangements with women before.

If he and Bertha haven’t discussed it yet, they sure will tonight. I feel bad for him, but I’m in deeper shit right now. Besides, they’ve waited decades to be together; surely there are many things they’ve done that would be forgiven just because a long time has passed.

“What you’ve done is unforgivable,” Bertha says, her words as sharp as shards of glass. “But love endures. I’ve forgiven your father, even though he cheated on someone else with me and let his family take you away. Love forgives. I know that firsthand.”

Bertha takes my hand between hers and looks sternly into my eyes. “If she loves you, she’ll forgive you. And if she does forgive you, then the worst, most painful thing you can do is to turn her away despite that. That would be the cruelest thing you can do to her.

“Don’t tell her to leave when she wants to stay and you want her to stay. You’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”

I swallow. Could she be right? Could my selfishness in wanting to keep her around actually be a good thing? That sounds too good to be true.

I turn toward Pop. He’s been silent the whole time and I really want to hear what he has to say. We’re pretty similar people, after all.

“I agree with Birdy,” he says. “I know it seems counterintuitive because you feel like you’ll only bring her trouble. I used to feel that way, too, about Birdy. But she’s made me see that it’s selfish to think that way.

“You’re not taking into consideration what Daisy wants. If she wants to stay with you, she’d be happy with you, even if you think she wouldn’t be. If you tell her to leave, you’d be making the decision for her, when she’s perfectly capable of making that decision herself. You don’t know better than she does what’s good for her.”

“That’s right,” Bertha says with a proud smile on her face as she pulls Pop into a loving hug.

“Look, son, all my life I’ve told you, family is the most important thing. I can see that’s something you live by and that makes me glad. But if I can give you another important piece of advice, it’s this.” Pop pauses to take a deep breath and looks into my eyes.

He says, “You can choose your family. I don’t mean me, or Cole, or Birdy, or even Nora. You can’t choose the family you’re born into. But you can choose your woman, and you can choose your family that way.

“I say this because I made the wrong choice,” Pop’s voice starts to break. He takes a moment to compose himself as Bertha rubs his back with a smile on her face. “I made the wrong choice when I picked business and wealth over love. I paid for it with misery; decades upon decades of regret and misery.

“For the longest time, I didn’t reach out to Birdy because I thought she was happier without me. I kept an eye on her. I even knew her husband and daughter had died, and she was all alone. But I still thought I’d only bother her, be a nuisance to her.”

“Aww… You’d never be a nuisance to me, Robbie,” Bertha says.

“See?” Pop smiles, even as pain fills his eyes. “I regret not reaching out sooner. Don’t make the mistake of thinking you’re not worthy of her. Let her make that decision herself.”

I can’t believe what I’m seeing. Pop, the strongest man I know, is falling apart before my eyes, and it’s all because of this nice, kind-hearted lady beside him.

And yet, despite his inward struggle, he seems to be happier than I’ve ever seen him. Even his health has improved. The impact of a good woman on a man is immense.

“Don’t make the wrong choice, son,” Pop says with glassy eyes. “Choose love—not money or pride. The answer is always love. Every time.”

* * *

When I open the door to my apartment, I’m ready. I know what to do—or rather, I know what not to do.

I’m not going to make Daisy do anything, and I’m not going to stop her from doing anything either. She’s in charge this time.

“You’re late tonight,” she says from the couch. She’s wearing her skinny jeans and a plain black shirt. I hear the sound of a laugh track from the TV. Apparently, she’s watching something funny.

My chest tightens. I don’t want her to leave after fifteen days. I don’t want her to leave after fifteen thousand days, or fifteen million days. I want her to stay.

I just hope she wants the same thing.

“Yes, I made a stop at my father’s.” I join her on the couch.

“Oh, how is he?”

“He’s doing really well, actually. He told the nurse to go home, now that Bertha’s there to take care of him.”

“She’s staying there now?”

“I think so.”

“Good for them.” Daisy smiles the most adorable smile. “I’ve been rooting for them to make it.”

They’re rooting for us to make it, too, I want to say. I keep my mouth shut, though. I don’t want to pressure her into anything.

She slides closer toward me and touches my face, her fingers small and delicate. She smiles as she plays with my five o’clock shadow. I think I see affection in her eyes, but is my mind playing tricks on me? Is it just wishful thinking?

She leans closer and grazes her lips lightly against mine, and I lose all control. I crush her lips with mine, kissing her with the desperation of a man who knows time is ticking, time is running out. I want to savor every little breath, every little lick of her tongue, every little taste of her sweet lips. Her hand on my face pulls me closer; she wants this just as much as I do, needs it as much as I do.

When we pull away from each other, her lips are wet, red, and swollen. I salivate, thinking about how I could also make her lower lips look that good.

But this is not the time. I put my hands on Daisy’s shoulders to keep her at arm’s length.

“Listen, Daisy. Can we talk?”

She nods, and I reach for the remote to turn off the TV.

“I’ve thought about it. A lot. I don’t want you to stay if it’s only to fulfill your end of the bargain.” I watch as her face falls, and quickly add, “I do want you to stay, though. But not because of the contract. Not because we’ve agreed on it.”

She remains quiet, studying my face like she’s trying to figure me out.

And, for once, I let her. I put my guard down, and let her see the real me.

I won’t try to hide my real thoughts and emotions again—not from her, or any woman I might get involved with in the future, if Daisy tells me to fuck off. My insides twist at the thought of having to let go of Daisy again and seeing another woman instead. She’s the only one I want. I’m sure of it.

“Daisy, I… I meant what I said at the hospital that night. I love you.”

Her gaze softens. She nods. “I know,” she says.

“I can’t play this game anymore. It’s too much. I can’t be your client, or your employer, or your sugar daddy, or the random guy who happens to offer you money anymore. You understand me?”

She nods again.

“I need this to be real. No, I mean… I mean I want the real you, whatever that means. If that means you want to leave and never see me again, that’s fine. If that means you want to stay and never leave, you’ll make me the happiest man alive.

“If that means you want to stay for the next fifteen days and no more, then… Then we can do that, too. It will hurt for me, but I want to spend as much time as I can with you. However much time you want.”

Daisy’s eyes fill with water.

“No, don’t cry. Please. What do you want? What can I do to make things better?” I panic.

“I’m not crying because I’m sad,” she says, tears escaping her beautiful green eyes. “I’m crying because I’ve been hoping you’d say that. I’ve been wishing you’d want to keep me, but I didn’t think you would. I’m happy.”

“So you’ll stay?” My voice sounds pathetic. I sound like I’m begging, pleading, but I don’t care. I’d get on my knees and grovel in front of her if she’ll stay with me and make this real.

“Yes, I’ll stay. I love you, too,” she says shyly.

Happiness fills my chest and pulls up the corners of my lips. I’m grinning like an idiot, but who fucking cares? She fucking loves me and nothing else matters.

I cup her face in my hands and wipe away her tears with my thumbs. “You have no idea how happy you’ve made me, my little flower.”

“I do,” she protests. “I do because I’m happy, too.”

Once again, I ravish her with my mouth, with my lips, with my tongue. Something has changed, though. Something subtle in the atmosphere.

There's still that fear of losing her—I don't think that will ever go away, which doesn't bother me because that's just a part of giving a shit about someone.

No, what's different is this surge of possessiveness within me. Nobody’s going to harm her because I’ll protect her. No one’s going to take her away because she belongs to me. She’s never leaving me again, ever.

We shed our clothes and I lay down on the couch, pulling her on top of me, parting her thighs with mine. She looks so small and delicate, compared to my own body. She's soft where I'm hard. Feminine. A woman's body.

“Put me inside you, kitten,” I say. My cock is already hard as stone, thick with need. I can’t take it slow this time. I want her now. I want to claim her body, brand her as mine.

Daisy lifts her ass and reaches down. I groan when her fingers touch my shaft, the volume getting louder when she sinks herself onto my cock.

She looks shy at first, avoiding my gaze, but the way her pussy muscles grip me tells me all I need to know.

I adjust the angle of my hips, watching Daisy's face to gauge her reaction. When I hit her sweet spot, it's like I’ve just pressed the button for dispensing raw sexual pleasure. Her jaw slackens and she takes a sharp breath. Her eyelids flutter shut.

“Ride me, my dirty little flower. Show me what a horny slut you are for me.”

Like oil to a flame, my words whet her lust. She picks up her pace, grinding against me harder and faster. The head of my cock massages her G-spot, while she rubs her clit against my pubic bone with abandon.

As if hypnotized, I stare at the movements of her hips, and the way she slides up and down my cock. She may not have done this before, but she quickly realizes what to do; she looks more and more confident by the minute. I look at where our bodies are joined together, her pussy spread wide open by my thick cock.

I grab her dainty little waist and pull her down, thrusting up into her. I’ve been holding myself back from taking control, but I can't stand it anymore, the way Daisy's looking at me with lust and surrender in her eyes.

“You’re mine.” I raise one hand up and wrap it around Daisy's neck, making her clench harder with dark desire. She throws her head back in complete submission, letting me do what I want, trusting me to not harm her. “You’re my very own dirty little slut. I’ll fuck you so good you won't get any satisfaction from anyone else. I’ll hurt you and you'll only want more.”

Daisy gasps and moans as her body goes into overdrive. She has stopped moving. She places two steadying hands on my chest, just taking it as I claim her body and soul as mine. She can only hold on as I thrust up into her again and again. She starts to grab with her hands and cry out, milking me for all I'm worth.

“Come for me, kitten. Cream yourself all over me and show me how much you like this. Show me that you're mine.”

Daisy surrenders, giving up all semblance of control over her body as she quivers on top of me with my fingers wrapped around her throat and my cock slamming into her, taking possession of her with every thrust. Come boils in my balls. With one last hard plunge into her gripping pussy, I shoot my load deep inside her, marking her as mine.

She collapses on me when I let my hands drop onto the couch. I caress her hair, grab a fistful, and kiss the top of her head.

“You’re mine,” I whisper. “My own dirty little flower, mine for me to fuck and defile.”

“Always,” she says.