Início / Romance / Touch Me, Daddy / Capítulo 111 - Capítulo 120

Todos os capítulos de Touch Me, Daddy: Capítulo 111 - Capítulo 120

188 Capítulos

9 - Samantha.

I’m not an idiot. I’ve heard the rumors that follow after the Beckham brothers and I know that there’s been talk about what we’re all doing together. Sadly, none of the gossip is actually true.I’ve been fantasizing about them all taking me for weeks but they’ve been taking things slow. We haven’t even had the actual conversation about what this all is but I know that they care about me and that this is so much more than just some kinky sex.I’ve been staring at the movie on the screen for forty-five minutes now but I don’t think I’ve actually seen a single part of it. With my boys laying on either side of me and Benson sitting at my feet, all I can think about is how close we all are.I was hoping that tonight would be the night but the longer we sit here, the more I think that this was just another step forward. It’s just them trying to make sure that I’m comfortable around them and I love that they care so much about me. I love how they’re always looking out for me and how they fin

10 - Daniel.

This is it.She’s finally ours.I watch as Benson deepens the kiss, angling Samantha’s head further back as his tongue slips into her mouth. Ajax and I are sitting on either side of her and we both move closer to them. My hands slip up her side until I grip the back of her neck.I pull her away from Benson and claim her lips with mine. She moans into my mouth and I slip my tongue past her lips and taste her. Ajax and Benson are working on her clothes and I do my best to distract her as they pull off her shoes and start to work on her jeans.Samantha gasps as my hands cup her breasts and when she pulls back, Ajax reaches for the hem of her shirt and rips it over her head.We lose our clothes in a blur after that. I’m sure the room looks like a tornado ran through here with Benson’s shoes kicked into one corner and our t-shirts and jeans tossed over the back of the furniture.When Samantha is bare before us, I pick her up in my arms and follow Ajax and Benson up to the second floor. We

11 - Ajax.

Two Months Later…It’s been the happiest two months of my life. The happiest two months of our lives.Every morning we wake up curled around our girl. Most days we wake her up with one of our faces between her legs and then it’s shower, breakfast, and drive to campus for classes.At the end of the day, we either head to the library to study or we grab dinner and go home to hang out together. Rumors have spread around campus and I was worried how Samantha would take it but none of it seems to be bothering her.She’s grown more confident since we first met her and I like to think that some of that has to do with finding happiness with us. She’s really blossomed into herself since we started hanging out and I think we all know that a large part of that has to do with being away from her father and his dominating ways.After our night together, we started moving Samantha into our house. It’s been slow because she was worried about her father finding out but as long as she spends every nig

12 - Benson.

Ten Years Later…I pace by the front door as I wait for my wife to get home from her first day back at work. Samantha graduated with honors and got a teaching job right away. We found out about two months later that she was pregnant with our kid.Or should I say kids.She gave birth to our triplets the day after school got out and then decided to take a few years off to stay home with the kids. They started school this year though and Samantha decided that she wanted to go back to teaching.We helped with the kids and even though it’s not traditional, they call each of us dad. We decided that we didn’t want to know who was the real dad and since we’re triplets it would be next to impossible even with tests to find out which of us knocked her up.It doesn’t really matter to any of us anyway. We’re happy, Samantha is happy, and our sons are happy, and that’s all that matters.Ajax is practicing psychology at a medical center for lower income families. He also volunteers at the local hom

BOOK TEN: YOUR LOVE IS MY DRUG.

Gardenia Ford will never forgive her parents for talking her into therapy.But when she meets Dr. Ambrose, his sweet, sexy disposition is... unexpected. A smooth talker, super nice but equally stern and assertive, it's very clear that he takes and loves his job. Gardenia is drawn to him like a moth to a flame, and he becomes a safe place for her on campus.But the way Dr. Ambrose stares at her, with those beautiful blue eyes, feels like he's staring straight into her soul.And when Gardenia kisses him...all hell lets loose!She finds out that Dr. Ambrose is not only an expert on mental health.His skills on the sheets are to die for.Their relationship is forbidden, but Gardenia loves the thrill.Who knew therapy wouldn't be so bad after all?----------------------------1 - Gardenia."So." The man steeples his fingers, elbows resting on the desk. He watches me across the expanse. "Tell me why you are here."Um."Are–are you sure?" I jab a thumb at the set up behind me. There's a clas

2 - Ambrose.

A soft knock echoes through my office. I lean back in my desk chair and rub a hand over my jaw, my trimmed beard bristling under my palm.Gardenia's been coming to me for several weeks now, and though I quickly learned to recognize her knock, I still find it jarring. She's so vibrant, so bright and bubbly and alive, and yet her knock is downright timid.It's yet another unanswered question about her. No other patient has ever driven to distraction with wondering like she does."Come in, Gardenia."She nudges the door open and pokes her head through the gap. Her green eyes are mischievous as she scans my small office, surveying the couch and chair, the bookcase, the potted plant on the windowsill.This is another part of her routine. I'm not sure what she thinks might be different each time–it's not like I leave my personal possessions strewn around this office. If anything, the room is as blank and anonymous as possible.All the better to draw out confessions. Not that she's told me m

3 - Gardenia.

The session starts off pretty normal. I knock on Dr Ambrose's door at precisely the right time, not giving away the fact that I was ten minutes early and lingering in the hall. His office is sparse and silent when I enter, the man himself already in the hard-looking chair opposite the couch–he stopped fighting that particular battle early on.He must have sensed even then that I'd insist on the couch every week, because firstly, it's part of the therapy vibe, and secondly, I need an interrupted view of his whole body. Dr Ambrose is wasted tucked away behind a desk. He should be free, unencumbered, wandering around campus in his shirtsleeves for all the world to see.Or folded across from me into that horrible chair. Either way, I don't want a stupid desk blocking my view.It's a sunny day, and warm, golden light spills through the window and cuts a shaft across the office carpet. The window's propped open, and a breeze drifts inside, smelling of salt and pine.A lazy bee headbutts the

4 - Gardenia.

He holds up like a champ, but Dr Ambrose looks worse and worse as our session wears on. By halfway, he's squeezing his armrests and a sickly flush darkens his cheeks."Nope," I announce, slapping my palms down on my thighs. "No, sorry. We tried to do this, Dr Ambrose, but it's like watching a man be tortured. You're not well.""It's just a headache," he grits out, but it's not convincing when both thumbs are digging into his eye sockets. "We can finish the session, at least. You're my last appointment for today."Appointment.I always feel weird when he says things like that. It's a reminder that he's paid to put up with me."Wait there." I drag my backpack onto my lap, rummaging in the depths. Books and pens and cereal bars and tins of breath mints brush against my knuckles, but I find it at last, producing it with a flourish. "Aspirin." I slap the box on the side table. "I'm not prescribing them or anything, okay? So don't sue me. But you should take some."Dr Ambrose checks the box

5 - Ambrose.

Three days later, I'm still kicking myself. I shouldn't have done that. Any of it. I shouldn't have insisted on powering through Gardenia's session with a headache, just because I couldn't bear the idea of a week passing without time spent with her. I shouldn't have let the headache show, and when she rested her thumbs against my temples, I should have nudged her off and set clearer boundaries.And I definitely shouldn't have let her clatter out of my office like that, red hair flying behind her and her face pinched.I upset her. I let her think–and then–Fuck. I really am an asshole.Gardenia always haunts my thoughts, but it's even worse now that the last image I have of her is her running away from me. Is she scared of me? Should I transfer her to another therapist? Would I ever see her again if I did?Shit."Beer, please." I slide onto a bar stool, shoulders hunched and my back to the crowded room. Halfway between campus and my apartment, this place is perfect for drowning my sorr

6 - Gardenia.

I'm halfway across the parking lot when her voice calls out behind me. There's an immediate war inside me, my heart and body demanding I stop and my brain screaming at me to run.My steps slow, and I hate myself a little when I stop. Gardenia's sneakers smack against the tarmac as she jogs up behind me.It's dark outside, the stars glittering above. The parking lot is mostly empty, with only a few trucks and cars parked in the shadows, and the trees that tower along the edges of the lot cast spiky patches of darkness against the sky.The breeze whispers through the branches. Gardenia's breathing hard behind me, and I turn to face her. "What are you doing out here, Gardenia?"She's ghostly in the moonlight. Her creamy skin is so pale, and her red hair looks almost black. Only those green eyes are still vivid, gazing up at me, and fuck, I can't look away."You dropped this." She shoves something into my hand. The napkin. "It's not a bad drawing of me."Deny it, my brain demands. Deny it

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