Daddy's Little Whore
Daddy’s Little Whore – Part 67

Keira’s POV

Clint asked to take me to his house after our eventful date. I didn’t mind spending more time with him so I agreed with it instantly.

Our conversation for the rest of the evening consisted of almost everything as we drove home. We ate, talked, and ordered dessert. It was fun, and by the end of the night, I might have developed a huge crush on Clint.

He was the perfect gentleman, always making sure I was happy with everything we indulged in. He complimented me, held my hand, and none of it felt forced.

We reached his house in minutes and the both of us stepped inside. I felt his fingers stroke my skin through the thin material of the dress and I found myself pressing further into him. Then, he gave me a k**s on my cheek and I almost melted into a puddle right there.

It had been a while since I felt this way.

“Today was amazing,” I confessed even if I probably already said that a hundred times. Clint sent me a smile. “And what better way to end it than here in your house?”

He smirked like he mirrored my dirty thoughts. “I would say I have not been dying to get you home with me, but that would be a bald faced lie.”

“You seem to be in a good mood today.” I could not help but notice. I would give myself credit for that and say I made him happy but I felt there was something else to it.

“Well, I took your advice,” Clint was saying. “And now I have finally gotten my ex wife off my back.”

Really? Was she never going to show her annoying face at his house again? That was enough to bring a smile to my face. “I told you it would work, didn’t I?”

Clint chuckled. “I should listen to you more often.”

“Then in that case,” I walked over to his wine cellar and slipped out a bottle. “Let us celebrate our victory.”

Clint took out two wine glasses from his kitchen cupboards, telling me he approved of my suggestion. “But I am still not fully done with her, unfortunately. The divorce process remains in progress and we might run into each other in court occasionally.”

“When is it going to be done?” I asked. I just wanted her to be out of his life for good. She smelled like a lot of trouble to handle.

“I would speak to my lawyer about it. Maybe a few months or so.” I watched Clint unscrew the cork, and pour the wine into both of our glasses. “You do not have to worry about it anymore. She will not be coming back here.”

I was sceptical even with his reassurance. “And if she does?”

Clint was already beginning to replace happiness. If his ex wife came along and ruined it again, I would not sit back this time.

He grabbed me by the waist, pulling me towards him and I landed on his chest. My eyes fluttered close as all I could feel were his lips on mine.

“We are supposed to be celebrating, remember?” Clint whispered, pulling my bottom l*p between his teeth. He soothed the sting with his tongue, and I let out the faintest m**n. “You are ruining it by worrying.”

“Right, sorry.”

He released me from his grip and I wished he had not. Clint held up his glass and clinked it with mine, then he brought it up to his lips. I did the same.

“Are you ever going to tell your dad about us?” Clint asked me. “Just a thought.”

He was asking the important questions. I never thought to tell Papa about us when we were only just having s*x, but it is more than s*x now. I had come to like Clint as a person and the way he stared at me right now told me he felt the same way too. His eyes did not lie.

This whole thing was supposed to only be all fun and s*x at the beginning. What an entirely different turn it took.

If I ever considered telling Papa about me and Clint, I could not wager what his reaction might be.

“Do you want me to tell him?” I questioned. “We can do so together after your divorce is finalised.”

Clint’s eyebrows were slightly knitted together. “I am sorry everything is a mess right now.”

“I have been in bigger messes, trust me.” Clint’s mess was nothing compared to mine. My life had been screwed since I was a child, but he didn’t really know that yet. “This is nothing. It’s only for a little while.”

Nothing could ever stop having a dangerous stepbrother on the loose. It hurt every day knowing the person who caused you trauma was out there walking like a free man. I hated him with every fibre of my being.

“Are you okay?” I heard Clint ask. “You are gripping your glass too tight. It could shatter and cause you an injury.”

I did not even realise I was angrily gripping my glass just at the thought of my stepbrother. I dropped the glass on his kitchen tabletop, taking in a deep, calming breath.

“I am fine,” I lied and backed it up with a smile. But Clint did not buy it.

“I know when you are fine and when you are not,” he said. “You can tell me what is wrong. Was it something I said? You do not have to tell your father about us if you do not want to.”

I shook my head. “No, that is not it.”

“Then what?” Clint dropped his glass too, worry written all over his face. “I thought we were supposed to tell each other everything?”

I would feel too exposed if I told him that part of my life. Everything about my stepbrother. I had never told anyone. Not even my friends. But seeing how worried Clint was, I thought he deserved to know as someone who cared about me.

“I am considering getting a private investigator because of my stepbrother,” I blurted, sighing in relief that I had finally gotten it off my chest.

Clint’s expression shifted from worry to plain confusion. “What did you say?”