1
Brody
The young blonde troublemaker I’ve been fantasizing about for months walks out of the juvenile detention center and stops abruptly, cocking a light brow behind her sunglasses.
“Who are you?”
“Your stepfather. Brody.” I hold out my hand, silently begging her to take it. “Nice to finally meet you, London.”
Even though her eyes are shielded by Ray-Bans, it’s impossible to mistake the hurt that streaks across her face before she hides it. “I should have known my mother wouldn’t come to pick me up herself.” London breezes past me toward the parking lot, tight backside twitching right to left in painted-on denim. “Let me guess, she’s on a cruise with a new best friend who is trying to convince her to invest in a pyramid scheme disguised as a makeup company.”
My lips tilt as I follow her. “Something like that.”
“I didn’t even know she’d gotten married.” London flashes me a sassy smirk over her shoulder. “Again.”
“It’s a good thing she did or you’d be taking the bus home.”
Her smile slips a touch and I immediately regret the harshness of my words, but I sure as hell don’t take them back. I’m a former Army captain turned police chief. Coddling isn’t in my nature. Thanks to a lack of parental guidance, London has been in and out of juvie since she turned fifteen—and that shit ends now. Her mother might have been incapable of laying down the law, but that is not the case anymore.
She’s too goddamn perfect to spend another day locked up.
It’s up to me to put her on the right path.
I unlock the doors of my Range Rover, watching through the window of the driver’s side as London boosts herself into the seat in a huff, tits jiggling around in the low neckline of her white tank top. My cock is already stiff as a board. Seems like it has been this way ever since I met her mother, Kelli, in a bar and I saw that picture of a kiss-blowing London on her phone. It’s been like this, rigid and swollen and starved. Waiting.
Planning.
This might be the first time my stepdaughter is meeting me, but I’m well acquainted with her. I’ve been paying the guards at the detention facility for information. For video. Photos. Access. Anything I can get my hands on. Until I can have the real thing.
When I settle into the driver’s side of my vehicle, it takes every ounce of self control not to reach over and slide my hands down the front of her tank top. To test the weight of her braless tits in my palm. See if her nipples can already get hard for me…or if she needs some seducing first. Either way, I’m going to have her.
I need to have her.
With a discreet adjustment of my belt buckle, I start the car and pull out of the parking lot, heading in the direction of my house. “I bet you’re relieved you never have to go back there, huh?”
“Oh, yes.” She crosses her delicious legs and gives a little shimmy. “Next time, I get to go to big girl prison. It’s like the grown up table at Thanksgiving. Just with handcuffs.”
I’m already shaking my head. “You’re done getting locked up, London. As long as you’re on my watch, you’ll be staying out of trouble.”
London snorts. “Please. You’re going to be part of my life for a week, then I’ll never see you again. Just like all the other boyfriends and husbands. Don’t act like you care.”
“How about I prove it to you, instead?”
Momentarily, she seems caught off guard. “Yeah, um. Good…good luck with that.” I can feel her curious eyes roving over me, turning my balls to lead. “What are you? A cop or something?”
“See that? You’re too smart to spend your life in a cell.”
“Oh my God. You are a cop?” She tilts her head back and groans—and I swear to Christ, I almost pull the car over and pull that bratty little mouth down to my lap. “Seriously, just take me back to juvie. It’s better than living with a police officer.”
I clear the desire from my throat. “How so?”
“There are a hundred other girls in juvie! The guards’ attention is divided.” She crosses her arms and flounces back against the seat. “At home, I’ll have to deal with your authoritarian nonsense all by myself.”
“That’s right.” I slow to a stop at a red light, keeping my tone mild. “By the time your mother gets home from her business trip, I’m going to have you on the straight and narrow. No more running your mouth to cops, stealing cars or disturbing the peace. No more drunken dancing in fountains or chaining yourself to government buildings, either.”
“Okay. So you’ve done your research.”
“I always do.” When it comes to you. I don’t say that part out loud, but I would love to. I’d love to tell London everything right now. That I’m obsessed with her. That I’ve spent the last few months orchestrating this moment. When I’d bring her home and have her all to myself.
I can’t come clean this soon, though. She doesn’t trust me yet. And earning my stepdaughter’s trust might be one of the most difficult feats of my life, considering she’s been abandoned, over and over again, since she was a child.
Never again, baby. I’m here now.
“When is my mother coming back from her…” She does air quotes. “Business trip?”
My fingers flex on the steering wheel. “About a month or so.”
That’s a lie. I doubt London’s mother is ever coming back.
The girl sitting in the passenger seat of my car is my sole priority now.
My sole…everything.
“How did my mother hook up with a cop? I can’t wrap my head around it. She is just as resentful of authority as I am. Last time I saw her, she was trying to kick a coke habit and failing.” London gestures at me. “How did this happen?”
The truth?
I’d had a shitty day at work and needed a drink. I lost an officer in a gun fight that afternoon and gave myself permission to numb some of the pain with whiskey. Rare for me. To give in to weakness like that. But there I was, replaying the moment over and over again, wondering what I could have done differently, when Kelli stumbled to the bar beside me.
Crying. Drunk.
If I hadn’t seen the picture of London on her lock screen, I would have asked her to go bother someone else. All it took was one glance, though, and I was done for.
“We met at a bar,” I say simply. “The rest is history.”
“I can’t see you in a bar.” She tilts her head, the ends of her blonde hair brushing against her nipples. “Maybe you should take me to one now, so I can get an accurate picture.”
“Funny.”
“It can be a welcome home gift.” Leaning across the console, she walks her fingertips up my bicep, dragging up the sleeve of my T-shirt. “One little drink. Come on, Daddy.”
I groan behind my teeth, coughing quickly to disguise the sound. My dick is straight and solid as a flagpole, come dribbling from the tip to soak into my fly.
Get yourself together.
She only called me that title as a joke, so I can’t take it seriously, as badly as I want to. As badly as I want to pull over to the side of the road, throw her facedown over the backseat, yank her panties to her ankles and fill her to the fucking hilt with Daddy.