Faithful Daddy Next Door: A Dominant Protector Romance Page 3

  I will make her mine. Or be damned.

  “I’m weak.” I relax, releasing my shaft, exhausted from pleasure. “Have mercy on me,” I expel, sinking deeper into my mattress. I roll to my side, facing away from the window and shut my eyes. “I can’t resist temptation and longer. Thy will or my own. Grace Harding will be mine.”

  Chapter Three

  Grace

  Forgive me, but I can’t stop thinking about him. I turn away from the window. Hours and hours I sit, watching the window next door, waiting for a glimpse of him.

  Every night it’s the same. He’s in my thoughts and I can’t sleep. When I do nod off. I dream of him. I awake feeling dirty, aroused in womanly ways. I touch myself in ungodly ways. It’s exciting. I feel the same way when I’m next to Pastor Ryan.

  “Oh, God, stop my thoughts. I shouldn’t lust after him. Sins of the flesh are wrong. He’s wrong.” I choke back tears. It hurts, but I can’t resist my desires. “If I only knew if he felt the same. Lord, thy will be done. Send him to me if he’s the one.”

  After splashing cold water on my face, I take a break and retreat down to the kitchen. Ryan’s not due to come home for another hour anyway.

  “Want some help?” I ask my mother, distracting myself from my daydreams. I pull up a seat at the kitchen island, grab a spoon, and taste the batter of the brownies she’s mixing up.

  “I got it.” She takes the bowl and pours the mixture into a pan already greased and floured. “Shouldn’t you be studying?”

  “All done.” Online courses are easier and give me freedom to be home, by the window in the afternoons, when Ryan pulls in the driveway. From the barstool, I can see out the kitchen window to his house next door. All’s clear, no sign of his car yet.

  Daddy barges in, pushing mom out of the way so he can get to the fridge. “We got any more sweet tea?” he asks.

  “It’s on the list. I’ll get to the store when my baking is done.” Mom stands back, holding the pan of brownies, waiting for him to get out of the way. I can see on her face that she’s itching to slide the pan in the oven to cook, but she patently waits while daddy stands, holding the fridge door wide open.

  “Why don’t I go and get you some tea?” I shove off from the counter to grab my keys. If the list is short I can make it to the store and back before Ryan comes home. It’s doable.

  “Sit down young lady.” Daddy points his finger down, commanding and I obey. “You’re not the woman of the house. If your mother doesn’t want to get me tea, she doesn’t have to.” He slams the fridge door in frustration and leaves.

  “Oh, Isaiah, don’t be that way,” mom sighs, but leaves the incident at that and slides her brownie pan into the oven. “Guess I’m off to the store. Watch these.”

  I just don’t understand how she can still love daddy. Men are supposed to rule the household, yes, but they’re also supposed adore their wives. Put them on a pedestal even. I don’t see that part of their relationship. It makes me worry that not all people are made for married life. I worry that I’ll end up having the same kind of marriage.

  Mom goes to the store and I go upstairs to my bedroom. I log on to an approved website to watch Christian music videos. With my headphones in, I’m humming along when a song when something outside catches my attention. “Hold up.” I sit up straight and toss of my headphones. “Ryan’s out there. He’s stepping off his porch. When did he get home? Where is he?” I stare in disbelief as his steps turn to cross the yard toward my house. “He’s coming over here!”

  I stumble to my feet, bounce off the doorframe, screaming, “I’ll get it!” I race practically slide downstairs, tripping over every other step. “Don’t get up!” I yell to my dad, in the den. “I’ll get the door,” I announce, before the bell even rings. He has to see me first. He’s coming to see me! Thank you! I grip the door knob and I yank it open.

  “Hi,” I say, dancing up on my tippy toes.

  “Grace, you startled me.” He squints when he smiles. And smiles when he speaks. “How did you get to the door so fast? I swear my finger’s still on the doorbell.”

  “Well, I was walking by,” I lie, nonchalantly tucking my hair behind my ears. Can he see how desperate I want to talk to him? Play it cool Grace. “Do you need something?”

  “Who is it, Grace?” Dad yells from the sofa. “Tell them we don’t want any.”

  I turn to the side, so that he can see who’s at the door, and glare at him. Why does daddy have to be so rude? “It’s Pastor Ryan.”

  “What does he want?”

  “I don’t know yet,” I snap back.

  “I’m inviting Grace to join me for baseball practice,” he says with a forceful clap of his hands.

  My attention is drawn back to Ryan. Except I don’t look up at his mesmerizing dark eyes, I stare down at his biceps. They’re bulging in his tight t-shirt. That’s a sight you don’t see in church.

  Although Pastor Ryan is a youth pastor, and he’s cool with the teens, he’s also a team player. Long sleeved dress shirts are required for church staff at all services. Seeing his hard body in casual clothes is an absolute perk of living next door to him.

  “Tell him we still don’t want any,” Dad says in a more joking tone.

  “Daddy he’s asking me out.” I say without thinking. “Uh.” I freeze, staring at Ryan. I want to just die after saying that. Please don’t be mad. Or laugh. Seconds tick by while I’m unable to take back the blurted out mistake.

  “Funny, sir.” He steps into the doorway, taking me by the shoulder and pulling me with him into the living room to speak to dad. “It’s actually just baseball practice,” he adds a wink to me and a click of his tongue. “Tomorrow afternoon.”

  My senses are in overload. He’s holding me so close that I can smell his essence, feel him breathing, see the hairs on his knuckles. Keep it together. Your dad’s watching. “Dad, baseball’s good exercise. It’s good clean fun and I’ll be at the church with Pastor Ryan.”

  “And the rest of the team.”

  “Of course.” I look up into his eyes. His lips are so close. I feel mine start to pucker.

  “Excellent idea,” Dad says, gaining my love’s attention. He lets me loose to shake my dad’s hand. “You’re an asset to the church.”

  “Thank you, sir. I try, but it’s God whose in charge.” He points one finger up. “We don’t always win, but we have a good time on the field.”

  “I never played myself. Can’t guarantee Grace will have any talent.”

  “Daddy.” I cross my arms. Ryan turns to smile and I think I catch him peeking down my cleavage. “Don’t listen to him. He said yes. I’ll be there.” I’m so giddy I can hardly stand still. It must be noticeable, or maybe he just wants to hold my hand, but Ryan reaches out and grabs hold of my hand and I settle instantly.

  “I’ll take good care of her,” he says to dad. “Guess I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ll give you a ride.”

  “Sounds good.” I walk him back to the front door. Before he leaves, he lifts my chin up and moves in close. Is he—going to? I suck in and hold my breath. His lips land on my cheek.

  And he’s gone. I’m tingling all over from his peck. I gently cup my hand over the spot where his lips touched me. I’m in heaven for a few moments and time stands still.

  “Shut the door,” Dad says, startling me out of my lovesick stupor.

  “Yes, daddy.” I shut the door and race into the breakfast nook where there are plenty of windows facing Ryan’s house. They’re blinds are open. If he turns around, Ryan can see me plain as day, but I don’t care. I have to watch every step he takes back to his yard. I hadn’t noticed he’s wearing jeans and they’re tight. His ass, walking away is worth getting caught drooling over him.

  “Was that Pastor Ryan?” Mom asks, walking in with an armload of groceries.

  “Not now,” I answer, but it’s too late. She’s pulled my focus away and I nearly miss the cute tap he gives the bird feeder hanging from his porch. I ignore mom long en
ough to watch him disappear into his front door. Then I turn and sink down into the bench seat under the window.

  “Are you feeling ill, Grace?”

  “I’m fine,” I sigh. “I’m going to join the church baseball team.”

  I don’t know how, but mom has read my mind. She walks over to sit next to me on the bench. “He’s hot. Looks nice in jeans,” she says, playfully hitting my knee with a dishtowel.

  “Mom,” I groan. “You’re married.”

  “I have eyes. I see the way you look at him. The way all the girls look at him.”

  “Enough this is embarrassing. I don’t have a crush on Pastor Ryan.” Eww, mom thinks my Ryan is hot. She’s married to dad. She can’t notice men any more.

  “It’s okay if you have feelings for him. Just be careful. Men are not very sensitive to a woman’s needs. They can be selfish. Cause confusion. Tempt a young woman to sin with them.”

  “We’ve already had the talk, mom.” I cross my arms in front of chest. My barriers are way up by this point. Ryan isn’t anything like a normal man. He’s not trying to get me in bed. “Pastor Ryan isn’t asking me out on a date. He doesn’t even know I exist.”

  “Of course he does. I see the way he looks at you.”

  “You mean at the church yesterday? That was nothing. A hug. He didn’t touch me inappropriately.” I justify his actions, scared to admit what mom already knows is true.

  “You’re may be right.” She nudges her shoulder into mine. “Don’t let his status as a Pastor pressure you too fast. He’s still a man.”

  “That’s enough.” I stand, clenching my fists. “He’s not going to try anything. No man is, because of you and daddy. I’ll be alone forever.”

  I push away from her, stomping upstairs to throw myself down on my bed. She doesn’t know everything. I’m a woman. Not a teenager. My body is my own. He won’t make me do anything. I want him to hold me close. I want him to touch me. I won’t say no.

  I stretch my hand out to the closed window, imagining he’s reaching for me. Please be mine. Say you love me too. I can’t feel his lips on my cheek anymore.

  This must be how mom feels around dad. My feelings for Ryan are stronger. He excites me.

  Stretching out on the bed, I run my hands up and down the curves of my body. Men look at me. I have a womanly shape. Dwayne, the greeter, who hugs all the women tight. He used to let me pass by, now he caresses me during his hugs.

  I know it’s wrong, but I let him and I think if Ryan. If Ryan were to walk by and see Dwayne treating me like a woman, he might think of me that way. The way a boy thinks of a girl in sin. The way a husband desires to take his wife to the marriage bed. The way a man of the world lusts after a harlot who gives her body to him.

  I would be all of those things for you.

  My breathing speeds up and I feel heat radiating through my body. I’m more aroused than ever. It’s still daylight and if my parents came to the door they’d catch me. I slip a hand in my shorts and tease over my pure mound. “I’m not a good girl,” I moan softly, talking to the window, as if he’s listening. “I do bad things. Have bad thoughts.” I tap my clit and inch my pinkie along the edge of the elastic of my panties. “Do you want me to sin?” I ask, aching to explore my throbbing folds. Masturbating is wrong, but so is lusting after the flesh. “I lust for you Ryan. I want to devour you.”

  “How do your lips taste?” I lick mine, pursing them, quivering them for a kiss from his lips. “Start here.” I elongate my neck and trace my fingertips down to my cleavage. “Drag them here.” I inhale and exhale, feeling his touch on my nipples. My body heaves overcome with desire. I’ve gone too far to stop. I let my legs fall open.

  “Take me,” I expel, pressing my fingers to enter my slick slit. “I give myself to you.” I race my thumb over my clit and shake out a shiver. “Right there. That’s the spot.”

  “How hard is your cock?” I shudder, saying the dirty word. “Cock, cock, cock,” I chant, shoving two fingers in and pulse them fast in my pussy. “Oh, yes, oh Ryan take me.” I tremble, teasing faster, imagining his chest beating over me. His powerful rod raging into me. “I’m yours, I’m forever yours!” I groan, tensing with a sinful orgasm.

  “No, no, no,” I cry out, shaking off my climax. “I’ve had impure thoughts again. I have to stop.” My eyes fill with tears. I toss myself over and squeeze my face into the pillow. “He doesn’t love you like that,” I sob. “You’re just a silly girl with a crush. Grow up Grace. He’s your pastor. You’re too young for him. He’ll never think of you this way. You’ll never be his wife.”

  Chapter Four

  Ryan

  Stalling my feelings for Grace is not easy. I don’t feel like a Pastor with her. In the car, Amazing Grace plays on the radio. I sing along, belting out the words. “I’m a wretch. I kissed you in front of your father. Invited you to baseball practice. To do what? Watch me run around and hit a ball?” The drive to the church is a short one and I’m not finished beating myself up when I get there. I stay in the car, finishing my rant. “I went over there and invited you to be alone in the car with you. What am I thinking? What are we going to do when arrive? Walk to the dugout hand in hand? Are you going to give me a kiss for good luck? What a mistake. Forgive me, Grace.”

  The self loathing continues all morning. Through morning prayer, a small groups meeting, the volunteer luncheon, and I still had thoughts of Grace running in my head while Pastor Danny gave me the good news of an increase in the budget for the baseball field.

  “Thank you. Thank the congregation on Sunday.” I place my hand on my heart and choke out. “We’ll make so many good memories out there.” I’m envisioning Grace sitting on the new bleachers, cheering me on, in front of everyone. That’s my girl. My girlfriend. My wife?

  “You keep hitting home runs and winning games.” Pastor Danny slaps me on the back, shaking me out of my thoughts. “I’ll keep the donations coming your way.”

  Practice is still a few hours off. I try my hardest to focus on scriptures that will relay my gratitude to the congregation. It’s no use. The question of Grace becoming my wife plays over and over in my head. Will she say yes? Will she want a big church wedding? Want to keep our love a secret? Or get permission to even date? Can I tempt her not to wait? Tease her to give me glimpse of her prize? I clench my eyes closed tight. She’s—not—sexy. I’m—not—attracted to her. I won’t—take her body for my own—ravage her. Showing her joys she’s never known.

  Piped through the church pa system, the hymnal, Amazing Grace plays overhead. It breaks me out of my carnal fantasy. “That’s enough.” I grab my sermon notes and walk around to the front office door. “I’m leaving early, Dottie.” I tap on the church assistant’s desk.

  “You feeling okay?” She looks up with her comforting eyes. Eyes that see nothing but good in every person. “Should I pray for you?”

  “Always, but I’m just leaving early for practice.” I tap her aged, freckled hand. “Pray for the whole baseball team. We’re going up against the Southern Baptists on Saturday.”

  “Consider it done,” she says, covering my hand with her other one. I finish the stack, then pull away.

  At home, I toss my stuff down and collapse on the sofa. Stop thinking about Grace, is the last thought I have before passing out asleep.

  Later, I’m jolted awake by the ringtone of my phone. I jerk up, scramble to swipe the device open, and answer the call. “Hello.”

  “Ryan. Where are you?”

  “Alan. Shh-snickers, I fell asleep.” Cursing is a weakness of mine. I try, but too many times curse words pop into my head first and I have to stop mid-word to keep my language clean. “Practice. Right. I’ll grab my gear and be there in twenty.”

  I hurry to change into a pair of semi-clean casual shorts and t-shirt, toss on a baseball cap, grab my gear, and dash out the door. I get to the end of the driveway and check both ways before backing out onto the street. That’s when I see my mistake. Grace is waiting o
n her porch steps.

  She stands up on her tippy toes and waves.

  “Holy fu-fool. You forgot about inviting her.” I pray she doesn’t see the surprised look on my face and hit the button to roll down the passenger window. “Hurry up,” I call, waving her over.

  She bounces across the yard. Even in shorts and a t-shirt she’s a beauty. I rub my palm across the stubble of my cheek. Dumb fool. I didn’t even shave. Keep messing this up, she’ll never give you the time of day. You’re just a useless old guy to her.

  “Hi, Pastor Ryan.” She pops her head in the car door. “Thanks for inviting me to practice.” She settles in her seat and buckles her seat belt. “I’m excited to learn about the game.”

  How can I lust after such an innocent beauty? “Call me Ryan. I’m not your Pastor here or on the field. We’re friends.”

  “Okay, sure.” She gives me a puzzled look. “Can you do that?”

  “What? Not be a Pastor,” I chuckle. “Do you think Pastor Danny’s wife calls him Pastor in bed?” The flinch of her lips parting and her turning her eyes down tells me I’ve over stepped a boundary. “Sorry. I shouldn’t mention the marital bed.” I pat her thigh to reassure her, keeping it there a little too long, before I take it off to turn the steering wheel. “Pure, innocent, single, Grace. Can you forgive me?”

  “I’m not that pure, Ryan.” She darts me a sexy side glance. “I have thoughts. Impure ones.” She moistens her lips, pausing. Her eyes bounce down to my crotch and back up. “Maybe some are of you.”

  She waits, smiling. I can’t immediately give her the reaction she wants, I’m making a left turn. “Grace Harding, do you have a crush on your Pastor?” I tease, hoping it will turn her on. It backfires.

  “Oh, I.” she covers her mouth with both hands. “You don’t feel the same way.” She’s nearly in tears. “I’m just teasing. I shouldn’t have said anything. Take me home. I want to go home.”