Thomas's gaze was paralyzed, anchored to the vision unfolding on the lawn like he'd been struck by an ancient spell.
Every time Emma reached upward to spray the higher branches, that pathetic excuse for a white tank top rode up even further, exposing the creamy, flawless skin of her midriff and the agonizing curve of her waist.
But it was the sheer heft of her—the way her heavy breasts strained against gravity and spilled toward the fabric with every bounce—that truly wrecked him. She was frolicking like a young doe, yet she carried a rack that would make a grown man weep.
His knuckles turned white as he gripped the balcony railing, veins bulging across the back of his hands like thick cords. A hot, restless tongue flicked out to swipe across his parched lips.
"Those fucking jeans..."
he hissed under his breath.
"How the hell do they even fit that tight?"
The denim was swallowed by her curves, mapping out every inch of her slit and the plump swell of her mound so clearly it was a sin. God, he wanted to pin her down and pound that brat until his craving finally broke. Daddy's little girl.
He flashed back to the day he'd pulled her from the inferno, a soot-stained waif with nothing to her name. Who could've known that scrawny child would blossom into this top-heavy creature—the most fuckable thing he'd ever laid eyes on?
As thoughts of her eighteenth birthday tomorrow swirled in his mind, his cock surged against the fabric of his slacks, thumping in a painful, rhythmic protest.
She'd begged him for a boyfriend ages ago. He'd promised her she could date the moment she turned eighteen.
A boyfriend? He scoffed internally. The only man who's ever going to touch you, Emma, is your Daddy.
The moment she dropped the hose and looked up to call his name, Thomas wiped the lust from his face, instantly donning the mask of the doting, charitable father figure. But beneath the surface, his blood was a goddamn wildfire.
"I'm coming, sweetheart,"
he called out. Today was the shopping trip for her birthday.
He descended the stairs, each step a calculated effort to suppress the animal inside.
But when he reached her, the proximity was a lethal blow. The faint scent of her sweat, mixed with a floral perfume and the cloying smell of damp earth, hit him hard. And she was soaked.
"Good girl,"
he started, his voice a feigned scold, though his eyes were busy boring holes through the translucent white fabric.
"How do you manage to get this
drenched just by watering the garden? The cloth is practically painted on. I can see everything down to your goddamn soul."
Emma pouted, looking down at herself. The water had turned the thin white cotton into a sheer pane of glass, revealing a black lace bra that was losing the battle to contain her massive teats. The cleavage was so deep, so inviting, he wanted to bury his face in it and inhale her until he suffocated.
"The nozzle broke, Daddy! Look... I'm a total mess,"
she whined, wriggling her body in a display of innocent frustration that sent her chest swaying dangerously. Thomas swallowed hard, his throat feeling like it was filled with dry sand.
"You aren't going out like that. Go change. Now,"
he commanded. He had to. If he let her walk into a mall with her nipples hard and her bra on full display through that wet rag, he'd end up catching a murder charge for every man who dared to look. This masterpiece belonged to him and him alone.
"Fine! It's my favorite outfit, though. Megan says I look incredibly sexy in it, so I was gonna wear it for my birthday tomorrow too. I'll go throw it in the wash now so it's ready!"
With that, the busty little siren spun around and bolted into the house. Thomas stood frozen, his eyes glued to the way her ass cheeks bounced and jostled within those tight shorts. The image was burned into his retinas.
He forced himself to take long, shaky breaths, trying to exorcise the mental image of those heavy, wet tits before he lost his mind and took her right there on the grass.
A few minutes later, Emma emerged in something more modest—baggy sweatpants and an oversized tee that did its best to camouflage her lethal curves. Thomas felt his heart rate slow, if only by a fraction.
"Ready! And remember—you promised I could go wild with your credit card today!"
He nodded, stepping forward to open the car door for her. His mind, however, was miles away from shopping.
Swipe that card all you want, little girl...
he thought darkly.
Because tomorrow, I'm collecting on that 'eighteen-year' debt. I'm going to slide this thick cock in and out of your tight little pussy until we're both drowning in it.