His Baby Girl by Rosa Mink
The ringing phone pulls me from the dream making me fume as I stumble out of the bed, my dick hard as hell. The way it always is when I simply think of her, let alone dream of her. I don’t even care that it’s wrong to want her, need her. After fifteen years feeling like my dick was dead, this shit is amazing.
My hand hits the lamp next to the bed, illuminating the space as I look for my phone. It’s sitting next to the lamp but not ringing although there most certainly is one ringing in the house. Likely Jenna’s, I grumble moving out towards her bedroom wondering how she can possibly sleep through that ruckus.
Her door’s open, the bed empty, and I grab up the once again ringing phone, a curse flowing from my lips seeing the picture on it. God damnit, seeing her thick lips grinning from her wide mouth isn’t doing a damn thing to help ease the ache in my cock.
“Mel, it’s almost three a.m.,” I state answering it. Her little hiss of breath just makes me harder, and I grip the dresser tightly to keep my hand off my cock. “What’s wrong, baby girl?”
Silent curses flow inside my head as the name slips out. Hell, I don’t call my daughter anything but Jen or Jenna. I sure as hell don’t call her anything like that. Shouldn’t be calling her best friend anything like it either—no matter how much I want her.
“Clint?” Her husky tone hits me straight in the gut, making it twist. It’s not the husk of need I’ve been dying to hear from her, it’s the husk of tears. Who the fuck made my girl upset, cry?
“Yeah, it’s me, Mel. What’s wrong?” I add, biting my tongue when the name wants to roll off it again.
“Is Jenna there? She was supposed to meet me at this party and it’s getting really out of hand,” she adds before I can respond, the tears in her voice growing thicker. “She promised to meet me and take me home when it was over. I got a ride with someone else from school, but they’re drunk, and I really don’t want to be here anymore. I didn’t bring my wallet and don’t have any cash for a cab…”
“Shh, it’s okay, baby girl.” Fuck it, I’m not watching my tongue anymore when it comes to her. She’s mine, especially when she’s upset, needs help.
“Where are you?” I add moving to grab up a shirt, adding on a hoodie knowing it’ll be chilly out on the bike, but it’ll get me to wherever she is fastest. I’ll wrap her in my jacket on the way home and will need something to offset the bite of the wind.
“Maker’s Farm,” she answers, pulling a low curse from me. “I didn’t know it’d be like this…” she whispers, and I take a deep breath calming myself.
“I know you didn’t, baby girl. Where are you right now?”
“Upstairs in a closet.”
“Okay, stay there, I’ll let you know when I’m close so you can come down. If anyone tries anything, there’s a couple little sheds to the left of the house. They have keypads and the code for them is 8-5-3-9 that will get you inside and safe.”
“Do you know where Jenna is?” she asks and while I don’t know for certain, I’m pretty sure I have a good idea.
“Likely out with Kyle at his place again. I told her to stay away from the punk, but she wouldn’t listen,” I add pulling a gasp from her.
“Kyle as in…”
“Fuck, baby, I thought you knew.” Now I really feel like an ass. Upsetting her more than she already was does not sit well. Not when I can’t pull her into my arms and hold her tight.
“No, I didn’t know she was seeing my ex-boyfriend. Why would she tell me to meet her here if she was going to go out with him?”
“I don’t know, Mel, but I will once she gets home.” I rattle off my number as I grab the helmets with bluetooth, making sure my phone is connected to it so I can answer if she needs to call me. “Repeat it to me baby. Alright, that’s my number, you call it if you need me before I get there. It’ll take me about fifteen minutes.”
“It’s a thirty-minute drive,” she counters, and I chuckle, starting up my bike.
“Fifteen minutes, baby girl,” I tell her, before heading out, flooring it to get to her as quickly as possible. No way are the fuckers that routinely crash parties at Maker’s Farm going to get their hands on my girl. Not fucking happening.