Daddy Crush

by Adriana Anders

  Float on

  Jerusha

  The doors opened half an hour ago and Karl is nowhere in sight. He should have been here earlier. He promised he’d be at my side all night.

  I swallow, hard, and plaster a smile on my face, though I’m worried. This isn’t like him. And, aside from a text earlier, telling me to get ready for a big surprise, I’ve heard nothing from him all day.

  Also not like him.

  “Hey, doll face!” Mikey comes up beside me, wearing a massive grin.

  “Mikey!” I let them wrap their arms around me, so relieved to have them here. “You made it.”

  “Of course I made it. Was I not supposed to come to my bestie’s opening?” They look around, eyes huge. “In case you haven’t noticed. You’re kind of a big deal.”

  I can’t help but laugh. It’s not true, but it feels good. And having them with me feels good, too. “Have you heard from Harper?”

  “Um… Yes.” Mikey goes all cagey. “And Alba’s here! She’s talking to someone outside.”

  I narrow my eyes. “What’s going on?”

  “I’ve been sworn to secrecy.”

  “Am I going to like it?”

  “Sure hope so. Hey, come here.” I accept the hug, though I know the risk of crying is high. It’s nerves and emotion and a big dose of exhaustion. To hell with what everyone thinks. I’m an artist, after all. I’m allowed to cry at my first big opening. I let it go—just a little. A couple tears escape my eyes, I sniffle. After a couple silent snuffles, I wipe my eyes and pull back. “Thank you.”

  “Stop saying that.” They lean forward and wipe under my eyes. “Now, go talk to your adoring fans.”

  With a nod and a deep breath, I paste on a smile and turn back to the room.

  A couple minutes later, Alba shows up, then a couple of my professors. But no Karl.

  Time’s weird during events like this—especially now that I’m the main attraction. It passes in fits and starts, rushing until it’s time for me to give my speech—the part I’ve been dreading. I’m fine talking to people, although accepting compliments is still a challenge, but standing up in front of a crowd will be a whole other situation.

  Darn it, I really wanted him to be here.

  I stand stiffly through the Collection Director’s introduction and move to the little stage they’ve set up in the lobby.

  Once I’m up there, I start to shake—nerves, I suppose. It’s not like I’ve done this before. After a big inhale, I dive into my prepared artist’s talk.

  “Thank you.” I clear my throat. “This show is called Pieces of You because it’s a collection of my past. Bits and pieces of who I am. The good, the bad…” My hand waves to a massive, dark piece hanging on the right. “The ugly.” There’s laughter.

  Okay. Okay, I can do this. I’ll get through it. I don’t need Karl. He’ll get here when he can. And whatever he’s doing, he’s got good reason for it. “We’re all made up of our past, our present, genetics, learned behaviors and experiences. Everything you see on these walls is something I’ve seen or been or lived. It’s the best of where I grew up.” I sniff. “And the worst.” I keep talking and after a minute, maybe longer, I start to focus in on the people standing here and, my goodness, there are a lot. Hundreds. I skim over the crowd, touching on one face and another. Toward the back, a tall figure attracts my notice. I blink and lose track of what I’m saying. I take a breath. “It’s disappointment…and happiness.” That last word comes out close to a whisper. It’s Karl, back there. He’s here. He made it.

  With a shaky inhale, I turn to the rainbow creation I’ve put together over the past couple weeks—an ocean of color and texture. It’s the most complex piece I’ve ever made, and the most personal. I clear my throat, unsure of where I am in the speech. It doesn’t matter, I guess. I’m not a public speaker, after all, I’m a just a woman who likes to knit. “Sometimes, I’m not even sure of what it is that I’m making,” I admit, which will probably cost me some sales, since art’s supposed to be all about meaning and insight, right? “Sometimes, the process is as important as the product.” I look back to him. To Karl. To the man I love, who’s pushing his way through the crowd like a moving stone through still water.

  Who am I even talking to now? What am I even saying?

  I open my mouth to say something else and lose the thread when I realize Karl’s not the only one moving toward me. He’s the engine of a long train, cutting its way through the crowd. There’s Harper and… I hiccup. Is that my mother? And Rachel, my little sister? Behind her, my other siblings approach, all of them watching me as I stutter at the front of the room.

  Full of emotion, I muster a deep breath and find my voice again. “This show, all of it, every filament, knot, and thread, is the sum total of my parts. The pieces of me.”

  “Thank you,” I force out, overcome by dizziness as I step away from the mic to a surprisingly stupendous round of applause. That made no sense. Why are they clapping?

  Probably because it made no sense. Eccentric artist speak.

  Someone comes up to congratulate me, followed by another person I’ve never met. I’m surrounded by art buffs and philanthropists, professors, students. I smile and nod and give thanks and react when someone tells me they’ve decided to buy three pieces, and then turn and Karl’s there.

  He nods.

  I press my lips together, folding them in on each other. It’s all I can manage with all the emotion swelling inside.

  “Hello, Jerusha.” I turn toward the voice.

  “Hi Mama.” Tears blur my vision.

  “I’m so proud of you.” Her last word is a whisper that I feel more than hear as she pulls me in close. Mama’s smell, the soft feel of her hair against my cheek, the busy way her fingers tighten against my back in little spasms she can’t control. “So happy you did it. You became...” She pulls back and looks around, then at me. “Yourself.”

  I nod and force a smile. It’s tough with all these feelings so close to the surface. It would be easier to grimace. I lean in to hide against her shoulder, turn and push my face into her neck.

  It takes a while for my siblings to cycle by and tell me they’re so happy for me and they knew I’d make it. I had no idea they felt this way—no notion that they were proud or wanted this for me. It hurts and feels good, so mixed up I can hardly feel the disappointment at Papa’s absence.

  When Karl finally makes it back, I’m wrung out. His forehead presses to mine, bringing those big, dark, ferocious eyes in close.

  “Thank you, Karl.”

  He rubs our noses together. “I’m gonna give you space right now, so everyone else can congratulate you, but…just remember: I’m yours. For here. For now. As long as you want me.”

  I’m breathing hard and fast. It’s hard to get words out. “To do with as I please?” I whisper.

  His reply, a pained-sounding chuckle, warms my lips. “Whatever you want. Anything. For now and the foreseeable future.”

  “Okay.” I smirk. “Get ready for it, then…” My mouth makes its way over his cheek to his ear. “Daddy.” I give him one final look before pulling away, intent on doing as he suggested—talking to everyone, spending time with the family he’s brought back to me, soaking up this feeling of a job well done. And making him wait his turn.

  Then, when we’re alone again—which might not be for a while—I’m going to show him just how happy he’s made me.

  Epilogue

  Last Kiss

  Five Months Later…

  Karl

  I swipe the sweat from my eyes and open the gate to see Jerusha on her hands and knees, planting more seeds in her veggie garden.

  “Finished,” I tell her, testing the hinges a couple times.

  “Yaaaaaay!” She jumps up, clapping, and runs over to throw herself in my arms. As her legs wrap around me, I slide my hands under her ass and anchor her in place. We do this a lot. Glee’s an everyday occurrence with my woman and I love it. After sprinkling a dozen k
isses on my face, she nuzzles my ear. “I love it.”

  “I love you,” I reply, surprising no one.

  Her giggle’s my favorite sound. Well, second favorite. I really like the way she sighs when my cock slides deep inside her. And the little noise she makes when she stretches first thing in the morning, before her eyes even open, or the happy song she sings when she eats my food.

  Hell, I love every goddamn thing she does. Like now, she’s sort of rubbing her tits against me, like the dirt and sweat doesn’t matter. Which it doesn’t.

  We’re in our backyard—shared, now that I’ve put the gate in—and I’ll fuck my woman if I want to. Course, my dirty girl reads my mind. In fact, judging from the long, loose dress she’s wearing, she clearly read my mind while putting her clothes on this morning, because once I’ve pulled my cock from my pants, there’s not a barrier between us. She shimmies until the silky fabric’s pooled around her waist, leans back, and reaches for me.

  I look down at the strange feel of her hand on my cock, and burst out laughing at the sight of her gardening gloves. It takes her a second to realize what she’s done. One of her bright, addictive giggles bursts out of her and I don’t even try tamping down the caveman instinct. It’s pretty constant around her. Thank God she’s into being smashed against doors and onto floors and hauled up onto sinks and fucked, hard, because I’d die if we didn’t have this.

  With a sweet little growl, she yanks off the gloves and throws them down before shifting her weight, grabbing my dick, and notching it right at her entrance.

  We stop, bodies frozen, breath held, eyes connected. I don’t have to tell her again, but I want to. “Love you.”

  “Me, too,” she whispers.

  “You’re everything.”

  “No, you are.” Her lips curve, just the slightest bit.

  Giving in—finally—I tighten my ass, thrusting slowly into her. Each hot inch is like the first time. Like every time. We’re everything, is my last coherent thought before the beast takes over.

  Cock pounding, every muscle working, I take her. Pumping my hips, bouncing her body on mine, watching the way she rubs her clit until she’s close. Her cunt grips me, her eyes roll back and I clench hard, push deep inside, and let go.

  Slowly, my brain comes back. I come back to the early springtime hum of birds and passing cars, music blaring from open windows. After a long kiss, I pull out and put her on her feet, only removing my hands when I know she can stand on her own.

  She does a funny little dance to make the skirt drop and I wonder, not for the first time, if she’ll ever change her mind about getting married.

  “You’re doing it again,” she says, half-glaring, half smiling.

  “What?”

  “Don’t ask me. Don’t do it.”

  “I won’t. I promised and I meant it.”

  “Thank you.”

  I nudge her nose with mine, smiling at how she read my mind. And it’s fine. Marriage isn’t what matters. It’s her. It’s this. Us.

  This gate between our yards was her idea. It’s practical, given that we spend every single night together. I figure she’ll ask me to take the whole damned fence down by summertime.

  But it’s her call. Every step, she gets to decide. Every choice is hers. She knows how I feel, after all. I’m an open book. I’m hers, hook, line, sinker, and the goddamn boat we sailed in on.

  Anything she wants is hers, including me.

  Especially me.

  “I love you, Karl,” she whispers.

  “Love you, Dirty Girl.”

  <<<<>>>>

  Want more steamy sweetness? Get Loving the Mountain Man here.

  Get notified when Adriana’s next book is out.

  And read on for an exclusive first look at UNCHARTED, Book #2 in the Survival Instincts series…

  Excerpt from UNCHARTED

  Slowly, he lowered himself to the ground, full of the smell of rotting leaves and mud, fresh green growth in there somewhere, though it had yet to pop. She followed him down, pointedly ignoring the way he watched her—like if he blinked she’d disappear—and got to work.

  Instead of shutting his eyes through the painful application of antiseptic, he kept them wide open, losing focus in the treetops halfway through the bandaging process.

  “Lift.”

  He obeyed, held himself up while she wrapped a bandage around his middle, and settled back down, waiting for her to finish.

  Which took forever. Her hands smoothed the tape, her fingers tested the edges, lingered…

  When his surprised gaze met hers, there was a challenge in her expression.

  Somewhere far away, the helicopter’s engine growled, back within earshot again. Or maybe it was just that his ears suddenly worked again.

  He ignored it. Not blinking, not breathing. Just waiting, watching, his skin prickling, antsy with cold and anticipation.

  The air was different, muskier, more alive than it had been in forever—with movement and scents, sounds, and a light, chilly breeze. Birds cawed to the west, just over the crest of this mountain, while the aircraft circled back from the east. They’d have to land on top of him to get him to move right now.

  “Do it.” His voice was a raw, open thing, more vulnerable than the wound she’d just covered. Want wasn’t something he allowed himself. Wasn’t much point when everything worth wanting was out of reach.

  Only it wasn’t right now. It was right here. And he couldn’t remember wanting like this—ever.

  He put out his hand, let his fingers curve around her dark, perfect ear, let them drag along the soft skin. He gently pinched the lobe, testing its softness, before cupping her ear again, the fleshy part of his palm flush with her jaw.

  Her eyelids dropped, opened, stayed at half-mast, and then, like a dream he’d wake up to feeling empty and lost, she pushed back, giving him the weight of her head, the curve of her cheek.

  She lowered her head.

  “One kiss.” The words were a hot breath on his belly, fanning his hair, tightening his abs.

  Instead of rising over him and planting those lips on his, she dipped, paused, burned a path over his skin with her eyes, then pressed her mouth right where his pants ended low on his hips.

  UNCHARTED is out next year - preorder it here.

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  Acknowledgments

  You know when someone does something and it sets off a chain of events? I’d been thinking for a while about writing sexier, shorter books just for fun; palette cleansers between the big, emotional books, you know? Well this book didn’t end up being the quick work I’d imagined, but it did made me happy along the way—and it taught me so much. I’m so happy you came along for the ride.

  I’ve got a lot of people to thank for this book, beta readers and hand-holders and friends and inspiration. Thank you, first of all, to Katee Robert for inspiring me to just do it—to write the thing running around in my head.

  Thank you to Leigh Kramer for beta-reading the hell out of this book and giving a thoughtful, deep critique. It made all the difference. Alleyne Dickens, Megan Frampton, and Alexa Day, thank you for reading (sometimes many versions of) Daddy Crush and helping me make it what it is. Thank you to Kimberly Cannon for the
being the most patient copy editor to walk this earth. You’re a pleasure to work with, as always. Jennifer Seay, of Mercurial Forte, I LOVE this cover. A million thank yous (again) to Alleyne Dickens for being with me every step of the way with this Daddy book and all of the others that didn’t make the final cut, and to Kasey Lane for listening to every single lament, every day. You two were my pit crew, my cheerleaders, and my shoulders to lean (cry) on. Love you guys.

  To Amanda Bouchet, Tracey Livesay, and Andie J. Christopher—I’m so lucky to have you.

  Finally, to you, my readers, who’ve followed me down one more new path: you guys are the best. I wouldn’t be here without you.

  Also by Adriana Anders

  The Love at Last Series

  Loving the Secret Billionaire

  Loving the Wounded Warrior

  Loving the Mountain Man

  The Survival Instincts Series

  Deep Blue

  Whiteout

  Uncharted - Coming in 2021!

  The Blank Canvas Series

  Under Her Skin

  By Her Touch

  In His Hands

  About Adriana Anders

  Adriana Anders is author of the Survival Instincts, Love at Last, and Blank Canvas series. Her debut, Under Her Skin, was a Publishers Weekly Best Book of 2017 and double recipient of the HOLT Medallion award, and Loving the Secret Billionaire was a Romance Writers of America 2019 Rita® Award Finalist. Her books have been featured in Entertainment Weekly, Oprah Mag, Bustle, USA Today Happy Ever After, and Book Riot. Today, she resides with her husband and two small children on the coast of France, where she writes the gritty, emotional love stories of her heart. Visit Adriana’s Website for her current booklist: adrianaanders.com

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