Let’s Play Pretend – Fake Relationship Anti-Hero Read Online Dani Wyatt

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 52538 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 263(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
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Gulp.

One bed.

“Oh no,” Margaret chitters. “What would people think?”

“Like I give a shit what they think,” Dietrich says as Margaret’s eyes go wide. “Forgive me, I’m not one to worry about what other people think. Wolves don’t consider the opinions of sheep, am I right?” Dietrich challenges her with a nod. “Understand, as a father and a family man, Jamie is mine to protect and there are male guests here. She will stay with me. Subject closed.”

The room spins as Dietrich’s hand sweeps down my back.

“I… suppose…” Margaret says, her lips attempting a frown. “I’ll have extra sheets delivered for you to make yourself comfortable on the Davenport, Dietrich. It’s not really designed for sleeping, so I don’t know how you’ll manage.”

“I’ll manage,” Dietrich grumbles as I clench my inner thighs, unsure if I can remain upright much longer.

“Very well,” Margaret says. “Your bags are there. I’m so embarrassed about this.”

“We will just keep that door closed. It will be our secret,” I say with saccharine sweetness, smiling as she glares back. Then Dietrich leads her to the door, saying a polite goodbye as he turns my way.

“We will have some secrets of our own, little girl, won’t we?”

chapter six

Hannah

“Playing daddy is new to me,” Dietrich admits as he allows his hand to rest on my hip. “Though, I could definitely get used to it.”

My eyes round in surprise, but I play it cool and keep the banter going. “Sorry, Daddy, you only have me for the weekend.”

He grins. “If that’s the case, we have a lot of family dynamics to squeeze into a few days.”

As his fingertips graze my collarbone and his lips rasp against the nape of my neck I realize I’m losing Hannah piece by piece. She’s broken and shattered on the floor and it feels like Dietrich is re-building me one touch, one word, one deviant thought at a time.

This isn’t a job, not now. He’s not my pretend father. We aren’t in the house of his client.

I’m becoming Jamie and I wonder for a moment if Dietrich is his real name or if that’s his cover as well? It doesn’t make sense that it would be, because he’s associated with these people and I doubt using some fake name for the weekend would be to his benefit.

“Are you like this with all your make-believe daughters?” I question, though I’m floating so far above my own head right now that it doesn’t even sound like my own voice.

“No.” He dips his head to breathe into my ear. “Just you. I want to know things a father shouldn’t. I want to teach you more things that most would think are wrong, but we know better, don’t we?”

I draw quick, shallow breaths. “What kind of things?”

“Well, I want to know what makes you weak, what makes you moan, what makes you dream and cry and laugh. And I want to teach you about the ways of grown ups. How a man makes love to a woman. How you’ll use your mouth to give me pleasure. I’ll teach you to kiss me in special ways, and I’ll do the same to you.”

“I want that.”

“And why do you want me to have the honor of all these things, baby?”

Dietrich’s tongue grazes my neck as his fingers work the zipper on the back of the dress.

“I just—” I stammer, finding my voice. “I just felt things when I saw you. My body told me things I’d never known before.”

“That’s because you need a Daddy, don’t you? A man that will be so much more than a fumbling fuck in the back of a cramped car, only to leave you once he tears open that little untouched pussy of yours.”

“Yes.” My head falls back as his breath warms my skin, faster and harder as he works the dress off my shoulders.

“Good,” he husks, his voice breaking as my dress falls around my feet. “Perfection.”

He eases back, leaving me standing exposed in the white cotton bra and panties he instructed me to wear under the dress and the pink heels that have my ankles aching along with the quivering muscles of my inner thighs.

“Walk for me. Show daddy how a big girl walks in her dress-up shoes.”

I can’t believe I’m doing this but instinct has me running wild. I steady myself and turn toward where he’s pointing at the window. I take small, calculated steps on the Turkish rug that covers the floor, balancing myself on the heels, curling my hands into little fists as I try to keep my balance.

“Lovely. I can’t wait to stuff that little fuck hole of yours full of my cock. You’re making me so hard, baby. You’re making Daddy ache. You know that? You make things hurt.”

When I get to the other side of the room, I do a half turn and see him stroking himself.


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