Is It Wrong I Want Daddy So Bad?
I try my hardest not to stare at this man, but I can’t keep my eyes away.
I wrap my arms around my chest, looking at him as he makes a phone call about some contracts, so composed. Like his face wasn’t just buried between my legs moments ago. Like he didn’t just lick me until I saw stars, until I was shaking so hard I thought I would break.
That’s one thing with Roman—he touches me one minute, and the next he acts like I don’t even exist. Like I’m something forbidden, and he hates that he touched me.
Guilt. That’s what I see eating him up to the point he can’t look at me, and when I do catch him, he always turns away.
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