In Debt to Daddy

by Aubrey Cara

  In Debt to Daddy

  Aubrey Cara

  Contents

  Candi

  Hank

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Epilogue

  Untitled

  Author’s Note

  Getting Dirty

  The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of a copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by fines and federal imprisonment.

  Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in, or encourage, the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Previously titled, Candi’s Debt Copyright 2015 Aubrey Cara

  In Debt to Daddy Copyright 2018 Aubrey Cara

  Published by Aubrey Cara

  Created with Vellum

  Candi

  The men in my family are gamblers, cheats, and thieves. They aren’t loyal to anyone but themselves. It’s the Dawson way. My oldest brother was killed for sticking to that tradition.

  I refuse to let that happen to my little brother. He’s all I have in this world and I’ll do anything to save him.

  Including seeking help from the one man I would do anything to avoid.

  Hank

  I was born to be a Daddy Dom. It's in my DNA, but I've never been interested in a full-time relationship. As much as I crave taking my kink outside of the bedroom, I swore never to be anybody's white knight.

  And then along came Candi.

  She's a bucket full of trouble just waiting to spill over, and has more secrets than sense. She represents everything I try to avoid...only, I find myself wanting to slay all her dragons.

  She says she needs something from me.

  Fine.

  I’ll rescue this girl.

  But my help comes with a price.

  1

  HANK

  Why I let my friend Wyatt talk me into going to an anti-freakin’-Valentine’s Day party, I don’t know. But here I am, drinking warm beer out of a red Solo cup, disgusted with myself as much as the beer. Everyone here’s so damn young. This shit is making me feel ancient.

  And where the hell is Wyatt? Nowhere-to-be-fucking-found. That’s where.

  Walking around the corner to the living room of the frat-like party house, I scan the smoky haze. The den of depravity is a crush of early twenty-somethings in every level of drunk and disorderly. Some kind of techno-pop is making my skull throb, and I wonder if I’m the only asshole here who hates it.

  Finally, I spot Wyatt in the corner. Or at least the top of the dickwad’s dark head. His face is buried in some brunette’s tits. She, in turn, has her long limbs wrapped around his waist, her hands buried in his hair. From the looks of it, she is dry humping the bejesus out of the guy. My dick twinges in sympathy for the chafing that has to be occurring over there.

  Yeah, I doubt I’ll be missed if I duck out. I don’t have to check bro code to know I’m free from any obligation to stick around. I’m exit bound and fighting the urge to throat punch some of these assholes as I elbow my way through the crowded space to the front door. I’ve only been back in this crap town of Gibson, Texas for three days, and I’m already sick of it.

  When I left at eighteen, I swore to never return, but somehow I let myself get reeled back in. My old man called and promised me his shit bar, if I run it for a year. He’s been doing this once or twice a year ever since I got out of the military. This last time he called happened to coincidence with a friend asking me to come down and do him a favor. A favor dependent on me appearing to be just another local.

  So here I am, on Bad Memory Lane near my dear old dad.

  Fuck. I’ve got to get over this shit or I’ll be in danger of being a pathetic piss ant with daddy issues. Hell, I’m feeling as played out as this party. I need to find the exit and somewhere to trash my empty cup, not necessarily in that order.

  I’m halfway across the room when a girl in my path with a decent rack and marginally pretty face scans me over. I know what she’s seeing. At six foot five, with short red hair and beard, I have that lumberjack vibe chicks seem to be drooling over these days. Unlike most of the hipster boys rocking the look, my body’s tanked out. And I didn’t get these guns preening at myself in goddamn gym mirrors for two hours everyday while updating my IG. This body was built by the Marines and kept in shape by actual time spent wielding an ax.

  Not encouraging, just acknowledging, I nod to the girl who is now practically eye fucking me as I move past her. Normally, I’d be game to seeing how the flirtation played out, but not tonight. I’ve been in a prickly bastard mood since setting foot on Texas soil.

  Just my luck, when I finally make my way to the front hall a country-club-blond couple is blocking the fucking door. Ken and Barbie are having a spat.

  Barbie is a ten. Bombshell blonde, with legs that go on for miles and a body I’m positive every guy in here is picturing naked. I know I am. I’d bet money her nipples are blush pink, and she’s got a blonde little landing strip over her pussy. Fuck, she is a ten, all right. She even looks hot railing at her dipshit boyfriend. In other words, the kind of chick I’d do well to avoid.

  I don’t care for the pretty-princess type of girls who rely solely on their looks. And judging by her appearance, all dolled up in a little black dress and hot-pink heels, she is that kind of girl. Not to mention, she obviously doesn’t have a lick of sense. Not if she’s with some guy who would take her to an anti-Valentine’s Day kegger, on Valentine’s Day.

  Young and dumb.

  I draw closer, trying to figure out how the hell I’m going to get out the door without breaking up the lovers’ spat, and am able to hear what she’s yelling over this reject club music.

  “I can’t believe I let you talk me into coming to this shitty party!”

  “Fuck you. Stop being such a dramatic bitch, Candi,” says douchebag Ken doll.

  I roll my eyes. Of freaking course this chick would have a name like Candi. Probably dots the i with a heart.

  “I’m ready to leave.”

  “No one’s stoppin’ you.”

  Well, Barbie certainly knows how to pick ’em.

  “Ugh, are you high again? You promised me you wouldn’t get high anymore!” she says, smacking the asshat with her flimsy little purse.

  “What’s your deal? Are you still pissed I tried to fuck that stupid bitch you work with?”

  “That was you?” Barbie grabs her chest and stumbles back in shock like it’s a scene from a freaking Spanish soap opera. “Cody, how could you?” She slaps ole Cody’s face so hard he jerks and turns a pissed off shade of red.

  Christ, it’s Tele-freakin-mundo with Southern accents.

  I was about to go find another way out of this place, but I’m pretty sure shit’s about to go from bad to worse. And much as I wa
nt to leave something keeps me rooted. Call it ingrained Marine training, or too many years with a self-destructive mother. However you paint it, I’m now strapped in to see how this shit show plays out. I don’t want to get involved, but if I have to...

  “You make me sick, Cody. I never want to see you again.”

  “Bitch!” Cody shoves her so hard, she crashes to the floor and then he’s there. Hovering over her, fist drawn.

  That’s my cue. I take two steps forward, ready to block any hit this dipshit throws when suddenly the douchebag, Cody, is surrounded by friends pulling him back. Giving him the “hey man, calm down,” “be cool,” talk to defuse what was about to become a seriously volatile scene.

  Where the hell were these assholes before?

  Sighing, I step over to help Barbie up and dust her off. “You okay?” I ask to be polite. I know she isn’t. She has tears streaming down her face, her eye makeup all messed up.

  She sniffs back her tears and grabs my hand. “Come on,” she says, tugging me along. Like an idiot, I let myself be led to the end of a hall where she opens a door to what appears to be a home office.

  I bite back a curse as she pulls me in behind her. This is what the hell I get for trying to be a good person.

  “Look, I think there’s been a misunderstanding—”

  “Do you have a car?” she asks, cutting me off.

  “What? Yeah, why?”

  “I need a ride to mine, but I need to sober up a little and stop crying.” This she says through a blubber of tears.

  I drag in an aggravated breath, running a hand through my hair. I really don’t need this shit. And doesn’t this chick know better than to go off with fucking strangers? “Is there a friend I can call for you?” I ask, trying to be the voice of reason.

  She shakes her head and wraps her arms around my waist as big, body-racking sobs shake her.

  Barbie’s nice and tall, and all her curves hit me just right. Great, now I’m trying not to notice how luscious her body feels pressed up against mine. And it feels fucking amazing. I definitely don’t want to think on how good she smells. A touch of cigarette smoke and rum cling to her, but underneath that is a light, flowery perfume scent that has my pulse pounding.

  My dick twitches twice, and I try not to breathe too deeply.

  Shit, shit, shit. I really don’t need this. Rubbing her back I give her a, “There, there,” wondering what the hell I’m supposed to do now. I’m not one to play the knight in shining freaking armor. This is a prime example of why I date hardass chicks who avoid emotional displays. Who needs a regular diet of this shit? That fact alone makes it even more shocking when I hear myself say, “I think there’s a twenty-four-hour diner around here. Why don’t we go get coffee then I’ll take you to your car?”

  “Oh my god, thank you! That would be great,” she says, patting my chest. “You’re so nice. And sweet.” She moves in to kiss me, and I jerk back a little. I’m hella attracted to her, but I’m not the kind of guy who takes advantage of needy desperate women. Undeterred, this girl drops to her knees, working my belt buckle.

  For a moment, I don’t move. I barely breath, standing transfixed by the beautiful blonde on her knees undoing my fucking belt. Under different circumstances, I’d find out how far she could take me. See how good her luscious lips would look wrapped around my cock, but now—I give myself a mental slap. My mother was like her. A gorgeous whore. Who knows how many times this girl has “thanked” men on her knees. I refuse to be like the men who used my mother.

  Disgusted by how much I want to let her do it, by how much I want to slide my dick to the back of her throat till she chokes a little, I grab a fistful of her hair and yank back. “Whoa, did I say you could suck my dick?”

  I know it’s the wrong thing to say. It’s not even in the realm of being nice. But I’m beyond caring. I’m pissed she’s putting me in this situation in the first place. Still, it feels like I kicked a puppy when she pushes away from me and starts crying again.

  Fucking hell. Running a hand through my hair, I stomp to the door, only to turn back around and walk over to where she crouches against the wall, big silent tears tracking down her face.

  “Hey, stop your crying and let me tell you something.”

  Watery red-rimmed blue eyes blink up at me. She sniffs, swiping her nose on her arm. Classy.

  “You’re a pretty girl. You don’t have to suck dick just because a guy’s nice to you.”

  “Fuck you,” she spits, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of her purse.

  “You’re being childish.”

  “You’re being childish,” she mocks, making a face as she lights her cigarette.

  I clench my jaw so hard, my teeth hurt. Why am I still in this room? This beautiful mess is not worth another second of my attention. I need to walk right out that door and let her fend for herself. Instead, I find myself squatting in front of her, grabbing her chin to make her look up at me. “You want to repeat that?”

  She has the audacity to blow smoke in my face and kick me in the fucking shin.

  I grab the cigarette from her hand and smash it under my foot, not caring that it’s probably burning the carpet as I haul her up off the floor.

  “Hey!” is all she gets out as I pull the armless office chair over. In one move, I sit down and have her upended over my lap. One leg thrown over her kicking legs.

  “What are you doing?” she screeches.

  “Teaching you a lesson, princess.” I tear down her panties as I lift her skirt, not even hesitating before I bring down the flat of my hand on her ass.

  “What? No!”

  The music outside the office door thumps in rhythm with my racing heart. She clutches my ankle, hollering up a storm. The sound drowns out the crack of my hand on her ass. I work her luscious globes over until they glow red and she stops fighting. Only then do I slow. Rubbing and slapping in a different cadence than before.

  Now that the angry haze of the moment has cleared, I can’t take my eyes off her little pink pussy on full display below her painted cheeks. Ho-ly Christ. Princess has porn pussy. Fucking high end, classy porn pussy. Completely devoid of hair, it’s perfect in every way. I can’t help but squeeze down on a rosy globe before giving it a sharp slap, again and again. When she starts squirming and moaning over my hard-as-nails aching cock I can’t stop myself from running my fingers over her perfect bare slit.

  Wet.

  So fucking wet I have to sink a finger inside her heat. Warm and tight. I can easily imagine her pussy lips stretched wide around my cock. Hell, what it would feel like.

  My dick punches against the fly of my jeans, loving where my thoughts are going. Pulling out, I circle her eager clit that’s peeking out at me, before easing two fingers inside her.

  She rewards me with a gasp as she pushes her hips back on my hand. She clutches my leg harder, digging her nails in. I hardly notice as I watch her honey spill out a little more with every pump of my fingers into the clasp of the fucking hottest pussy I’ve ever experienced.

  “Is that what you like, princess?” Her eager mewls of pleasure let me know that it is. Her internal muscles twitch. Tightening their grasp. “That’s right. You’re close aren’t you?” Curling my fingers into the front of her cunt, I work it hard. Her whole fucking body trembles. She whimpers. “Don’t fight it, baby girl. Come on Daddy’s fingers.”

  Her startled gasp rings out in the room, enough honey spilling out of her to make a wet spot on my jeans.

  “That’s it. Come for Daddy, right the fuck now.” I shove in a third finger and she arches up with a low wail and rides my hand.

  Jesus H. I pump her through her orgasm and her body bows again, her cunt contracting so hard I nearly come in my pants.

  Still breathing hard, she slides from my lap, standing up on shaky legs. When I move to steady her, she holds out a staying hand. “Whoa. No. I’m good,” she says.

  Her glazed-over baby blues meet my eyes warily as she pulls her pink lacy pant
ies up. Snatching her purse off the floor, she stumbles to the door, not so much as glancing back at me.

  Shit.

  As quick as I can, I plant my hand on the door right as she is about to open it. “Going somewhere?”

  “Yeah, um...this was...interesting, but I think I’ll find my own ride home.” She says this staring at the door, voice wobbling. There’s a new sheen of tears rolling down her cheeks.

  This chick.

  “Who the hell are you going to find to drive you home?”

  “I’m sure it won’t be too hard,” she says swiping away the smudges of makeup under her eyes, she levels me with a glare.

  For a moment I’d forgotten she was the same girl who was going to blow me just because I’d offered her a ride. The idea of her making that same offer to an asshole out there pisses me the hell off. “So, you’re going to take your chances with some other stranger?”

  “That was the idea.” Irritation is evident in her tone.

  “Everyone out there is half in the bag.”

  She shrugs.

  I am completely annoyed with myself as well as her.

  The rational part of my brain is telling me to let her effing go and be someone else’s problem. I’m not feeling very rational, though. Spanking and finger blasting one of the hottest women I’ve ever gotten my hands on will do that to a man. My dick wants to pound its way through my jeans, and I feel like punching a wall. “You gonna go make someone out there the same offer you made me?”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Tsk, tsk, princess. That kind of talk will earn you another spanking.” I practically growl this in her ear, and delight in her shiver. I know I’m being an asshole but hell if I can stop it.

  She bites out, “I hate you.”

  “Good thing you don’t have to like me to ride in my car.” Or on my dick.

  “Get bent.”

  “Is that an invitation?”

  She growls in indignation behind gritted teeth, stamping a foot. Hell if the move doesn’t make me want to push her against the door and fuck the sass out of her. She wants to kick me. I can see it in her eyes.