RUEGER

“I KNOW WHAT you want,” Lexi half shouts as she approaches me, pointing her order pad in my direction with a smile that lights up my very soul.

You have no fucking idea what I want. If you did, you’d be probably be running.

But I’d be chasing you.

Moe’s is busier than usual today, but even when it’s quiet, it’s loud. Customers shout orders, counter workers shout right back.

I nod and watch the pencil slip from behind her ear to between her fingers, flicking a loose tendril of hair so that it glints in the sunlight. She scribbles down my usual order before spinning on her heel, and without another word, she’s heading toward the kitchen.

The shouting is part of the shtick here.

Moe’s Loud Vegan Deli. The name says it all.

I shift a bit in the hard, wooden chair, trying to keep my growing erection from getting too painful inside my boxers. The lunch line trails right out the door, disappearing beyond the long expanse of windows that cross the front of Moe’s.

My venture capital will do well here. It will be my last handpicked baby before I turn over the reins of my company completely. I’ve got zero worries about making sure our return on our investment pans out on this one.

Even without me to handhold things from here on out, it’s a solid play for a few million and the guidance from my team on the expansion. Fuck, the first time I took a bite of their portabella and tofu chipotle burger two months ago, I knew I would invest in this little chain of vegan delis, and nothing I’ve seen since has changed my mind.

The day I came here was the day I was sent to meet the young lady who was to be my newest individual sponsorship through my Count On program for low-risk offenders on probation. For each sponsorship, I pick a new state from an old hat that belonged to someone special to me, which I keep in my office. Inside are the remainder of the fifty states I’d written down on folded scraps of yellow legal paper six years ago when I started this.

New geography for each one immerses me in their world. Allows me to focus on them and to see life from another perspective. Every city has a soul and a vibe of its own.

My program has been successful for years, with over six thousand mentors across the country. It’s another baby of mine, and that day I was here to meet her.

Little did I know how much my life would change that day.

Lexi Chase.

Female. Portland, Oregon. Three arrests, all for petty theft. What caught my eye was what she had stolen.

First offense was for stealing a stuffed sloth toy from some swanky gift shop.

Second offense was for lifting three of those candy necklaces from a drugstore.

Third, and this one still has me shaking my head, a package of adult diapers.

Since we’ve been spending time together, I found out the story on that last one.

Turns out a care worker for an older woman in a previous apartment building mentioned them to Lexi and also mentioned the woman’s monthly check hadn’t arrived, so she wouldn’t have the money to buy them until it came. Lexi had balls enough to stuff a package of them under her T-shirt at the grocery store and try to pretend she was pregnant and walk out. When I asked her about it, she said she’d had four dollars, but when she got to the store, she saw they were far more expensive than what she thought, and no way was she letting the poor woman go without until her check came.

My program helps give current or former foster kids now on probation a mentor. Someone to count on. Someone to help keep track of their employment. Secure, decent housing for them. Give them a new vision of what their lives could be.

But it’s not my financial investment or merely checking up on my sponsorship that brings me here; that’s just the pretense under which I sit here in the center of this chaos twice a week.

No, I consider her my investment. My most precious one ever. I want to invest my knowledge. My wisdom. My care. My everything. I want to invest my very soul.

In her.

And I want to invest copious amounts of time with my mouth on her pussy. And with her pussy taking my cock.

That pussy was made to be mine.

I’ve known it since the first moment I laid eyes on her. Her pussy exists solely for my pleasure. And the rest of her exists to be under my care. To receive my love.

I’m just not sure she will understand the enormity of what that means. So, here I sit. For the sixteenth time since I first saw her. Ordering a triple espresso and pie-sized cinnamon roll, contemplating how she will ever understand who I am to her.

Who we were meant to be together.

I watch her through the window of her studio apartment, watch her coming and going, watch her bringing in her groceries, or just taking out her fucking trash.

I rented a place directly across from hers for the sole purpose of watching her. I also bought a house. That same day. Cash on the spot because something in my gut told me someday this would be home.

That’s how fucking gone I am over this girl.

Is that wrong? Maybe. Am I a sick fuck for watching her like I do?

Probably.

But truth is, I don’t know what the fuck to do with all these feelings. I’ve never felt anything like this before.

For all my success, I’ve lived in an emotional safe zone since as far back as I can remember. A place where I have never cared enough for someone to risk the pain of losing them. The risk versus reward just never seemed like a good investment for me.

Until now.

I’m sure I’ll fuck it up. I’m terrified I’ll fuck it up. That’s why I’ve been planning so carefully. Since that first day. I’ve been planning.

Hoping if I can control it all, she’ll understand.

The rules.

It’s how I’ll love her. Control her. Own her.

When I’m allowed the luxury of being away from my corporate office in Manhattan, it’s here I come.

To Portland.

To Lexi.

I sit for hours in the window of my sparsely decorated rented apartment just waiting to catch a glimpse of her. I’ve jerked off to her dancing around in her little efficiency kitchen. Even seeing her reading or sleeping has me stroking myself.

Fuck, she could open a damn pickle jar and I’d be hard.

But God help me, the dreams I have of pushing my cock into her slick, hot pussy as she sleeps are the ones that drive me to the verge of madness. In those dreams, I slip into her room, hold my hand over her mouth from behind and whisper in her ear to be quiet for Daddy.

Just open your legs and let me do what I need to do, Babygirl.

Fuck if I’m ready to spray in my pants just thinking about it.

My thoughts don’t surprise me as much as they did when they first started, but still. I can’t believe she could ever understand the effect she has on me. The longing that clutches in my heart when I think of her.

So many filthy things I want to do to her innocent body.

I’d never even wanted to be involved with anyone before her. Sure, I dated in my younger years, but with her, it’s like I’m alive again. Like I’m awake for the first time in my life.

I never dreamed these dreams I’ve been having until I met her, but the time is drawing close when I’ll have her under me. I can feel it. I can’t hold off forever, I just can’t, and I’m not even sure why I’m still waiting. Well, that’s not entirely true. In my heart, I know. Deep down, I know. Just a little more time.

I just need a little more time.

And I pray she’ll understand. Because I’ll never let her go. I can’t. Lexi belongs to me, right now. And I won’t lose that.

As scared as I am, that’s exactly what will happen. I’ve got just twenty-four hours before I have to be back in New York. After this afternoon, I’ll know. She’ll know.

She comes spinning out through the kitchen doors, carrying my order, and I’m already rock hard. Without even thinking, I’m already scanning the crowd, making sure no other fuck has got eyes on her.

Never before her did a jealous hair rise anywhere on me. But all that’s changed. I’m now a possessive motherfucker when it comes to everything Lexi Chase.

Even though we’ve never shared as much as a kiss.

“Here you go.” The harmony of her voice resonates directly into my soul. The flash of her smile is captivating. Her hands are graceful, pointing like a dancer’s hands as she places white porcelain serving items in front of me. Each of her fingernails is painted a different pastel color, matching her hair.

“I love it,” I say as I bring the espresso to my lips with one hand and ever so gently touch the lavender end of a tendril with the other. “It suits you.”

Pink heat colors the tops of her cheeks, and I delight in the way she tries to hide it with her hand, fingertips brushing the skin as she absently twists a stray lock of hair around her finger. That action threatens to set my cock ripping out the front of my pants it’s so fucking cute. And she doesn’t even know it.

Nearly black hair crowns her head, contrasting with her pale skin, and straight bangs cut across mid-forehead. But today, the ends of her hair are tipped in a sea of pastel colors, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything more beautiful.

“Um...thanks.” She squints her left eye when she smiles and wrinkles her nose. “Anything else right now?”

Yes. You. On your knees. Looking up at me and calling me Daddy while I feed you my cock and spray my cum down your throat.

“That’ll do.”

She knows I won’t order anything else. I’ve ordered the same thing sixteen times. Never a variation. But after two months, she’s still unsure. She’s eager to please, and that only makes me want her more.

“Okay.” Lexi tucks her bottom lip between her teeth, pulls her mouth to the side and raises an eyebrow, hesitant, expecting me to say something else. She sniffles and quickly rubs a tissue under her nose, then wads it up and puts it into the front pocket of her apron.

Just as much as she knows I’m not going to order anything else, I am going to say something else. I’m nothing if not a man who knows how much my girl relies on my routine. On me providing order to her world. Making her feel safe. That she knows what to expect from me.

But for my own pleasure, I like to watch her like this, the little girl inside a bit uncomfortable under my gaze, knocking her off-balance. I can’t help myself.

The first time we spoke, she nearly knocked my espresso all over me as she stumbled. Then, so embarrassed, backing away as though I could ever be angry with her.

I take another quick sip, enjoying the sight of her for a long moment before granting her the relief of my next words. “I’ll be back at two o’clock. The sun is out.” I twist my head, just enough to glance outside, but not so much that I lose sight of her. “In Portland this time of year. Imagine that. We will go to the zoo.”

The tension in her face is broken by a sudden smile, and though I’m careful to keep my easy façade, my cock nearly breaks in half inside my pants. Nothing in the world brings me more joy than seeing her smile.

My eyes drop casually, away from her smile, alighting on her chest. Her ripe tits push out from under the cheerful yellow canvas of her apron. I take her in an inch at a time. The strap of her apron is sporting a new sloth button today. That makes twenty-six sloth-themed buttons, pins, and patches on her apron. I’ve counted them more than once. I’ve kept track of everything about her, everything I can see.

Some things I can’t.

“I love the zoo. I hope they still have the sloths.” She twists her hair absently again, and her brown eyes twinkle. “I haven’t been there since I was a little girl.” She does this little hop and claps her palms together three times.

You’re still a little girl. You’re my little girl. Daddy’s special girl.

God, give me strength. This is killing me. My fear lights up. Does she really still believe I’m just her sponsor?

I’m going to tell her everything in just a few hours, and I’m so sure she will be afraid of me. She’ll think I’m perverse. She’ll think I’m vile.

Daddy.

I need to hear her call me that. I imagine it in every dream. Inside each second of every day. Hearing that single word will complete me.

I notice another sniffle and turn a frown on her. “You are not feeling well. No zoo today. You need a doctor.” Without another thought, I’m pulling out my phone to make arrangements for her to be seen. Right now. She can’t wait.

The disappointment in her eyes makes my stomach tight.

“No.” Her rainbow-pastel-tipped hair spins as she shakes her head. “It’s just an allergy.” She lowers her voice to a whisper and leans toward me, making it nearly impossible not to reach out and pull her close. “Some lady in my section is wearing way too much perfume. I’m allergic to perfume, the chemicals in it, I mean. I’m fine. Really.” She lets out a little giggle. “Unless you want to go douse her with a nice bucket of soapy water for me. She’s right there. Wearing that god-awful bedazzled ball cap.”

I’d do that in a heartbeat. Anything for you. Anything.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t be saying that.”

I shrug one shoulder. “What’s the rule?”

“I have to tell you what’s on my mind.” I love that she no longer has to hesitate before answering.

“That’s right.” I smile, then make a show of sighing with regret. “Get on back to work, then.” I nod toward the busy central area of the restaurant. “Make me proud.”

She’s already learning the rules we will live by, and she doesn’t even know it.

Her hand darts to her face, and she presses her knuckles over her teeth, covering the smile that explodes at my words. I have to bite the inside of my cheek until the metallic tingle spreads over my tongue. If I don’t distract myself right now, I’ll have her up against the nearest fucking wall or lose it inside my goddamn pants.

I won’t. But she makes me feel like I could.

I have more control than a twelve-year-old boy finding his first Hustler. But, Jesus Christ, I could happily come. Even the innocent way she bites her lip is fuel for a week’s worth of fantasies and stroke sessions.

“Yep, I’m back to it. I won’t screw up this job. I’m thirty days from my six months. My probation will be over, and you won’t have to keep checking up on me all the time.” I see the question in her eyes, and I let it hang there, just for a moment, before throwing her a smile and watching the relief. “Okay, well, see you at two?”

I nod.

I’d burn down kingdoms before I’d miss a moment with you.

She turns on a heel and skips away, hips swinging. I take another sip of espresso, then cringe as I see her feet tangle under her. Losing her balance, she crumples left and nearly topples over, throwing her hand out to grab a chair, right into a table full of patrons. Recovering at the last second, she shoots a quick look over her shoulder, glancing at my table, humiliation already covering her sweet face.

I quickly avert my gaze, looking out the window, pretending not to see a thing. I might love her discomfort when she’s with me, but I don’t want her to feel embarrassed while she’s trying to work.

I remember the day I finally asked her about the sloth pins and buttons on her apron.

She had said, “Sloths are my spirit animal.”

When I’d asked why, she explained, “Sloths are very clumsy on land. But in the water, they are very elegant. Graceful, even. Sort of like me. I’m not sure where my feet are most of the time when I’m walking around. But...” She’d hesitated, looked over her shoulder to be sure no one could hear, then continued in hushed tones, “I am on the synchronized swimming team at the YMCA. I’m about forty years younger than everyone else, but I don’t care. I love the water. It makes me forget how clumsy I am.”

Even so, I secretly love how clumsy she is.

I love everything about her.