Please Me Daddy (Gracie) novel Chapter 4

Apollo

I frowned down at the woman sprawled across my bed, wearing nothing but her lingerie.

Why the hell does this keep happening to me?

Last week, I caught a new intern naked in my office, legs spread on the desk like a cheap offering. Two days after that, I was in a meeting with a potential business partner when his barely-legal daughter started sliding her foot up my leg under the table, aiming right for my cock, giving me seductive little glances like she had any clue what she was doing.

It made me wonder what the hell they were feeding young women these days, what made them so damn desperate to crawl into my bed.

Well, it’s not like I really needed to wonder. I already knew the answer.

My so-called father.

The old man had been trying to set me up for years, ever since my wife died.

Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t like I was still mourning. That part of my life was over. It had been over for a long time. That wasn’t why I never remarried.

The truth was simpler, I just wasn’t interested. I wasn't interested in the messy, fake relationships my father wanted for me, or the endless parade of women thrown at my feet.

Do I have sex? Sure. I wasn’t a monk. I was human. Every now and then, when my body demanded it, I would find a woman, one who understood the rules, and we would satisfy each other’s needs. It was clean and simple. There was no attachments, it was always safe, and it was always a one time thing. No one would carry a child I never wanted, but my father didn’t approve of my methods. He wanted something else.

“Other sons are giving their fathers grandchildren,” he’d complained a few weeks ago. “I’m the only one without. Do you know how jealous I get when I see my friends playing with their grandkids? They tease me sometimes because of you. You're already forty, Apollo. I need a grandchild!”

I told him, very clearly, that I wasn’t interested in the women he was shoving at me. Apparently, the old bastard misunderstood. He thought I meant older women, so he switched strategies. Now he was sending younger ones, thinking maybe a fresher body would tempt me into giving him what he wanted.

And this woman, sprawled out on my bed was clearly one of his recruits.

I crossed my arms over my chest and stared down at her, the muscle in my jaw ticking.

Her eyes fluttered open, and she looked at me. Her gaze trailed down my body, like she was inspecting a cut of meat to see if it was medium-rare. The way her eyes lingered made something hot crawl under my skin.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify