Daddies' Little Angel

By Calista Jayne

Are you going to be a good girl?

I've never felt safer than when I'm with these two protective men. They're intense, demanding, and oh so sinfully filthy.

Of course, nothing can ever be completely easy, can it?

Because when someone from the past shows up, our idyllic new "normal" is smashed to pieces...along with my heart.

Daddies' Little Angel is the third installment of the serial Their Babydoll. If you like MFM stories packed with romance and steam, buy your copy today!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Calista Jayne
• Release date: Mar 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005602581

Calista Jayne

Calista Jayne adores filthy, smutty romances featuring dominant-yet-tender men. When not writing or reading, she’s falling in love with the heroes in K-dramas or walking along a California beach.

Book preview

1

Jaxon

Genevieve’s texts continue, like a one-person conversation. It’s so like her.

Need to talk.

It’s been a long time, J.

I’ve missed you, old man.

I’m worried I made a mistake.

This would’ve been cause for celebration three years ago when I was desperate to get her back, but my heart has had time to heal, and my mind has had time to figure out what it is that she did to us.

There is no room in my life for her particular brand of bullshit. I shove my phone in my pocket and head into the kitchen.

It’s early to be texting. Then again, she’s, what, six hours ahead of us in London.

She probably has a whole strategy behind texting at this hour.

Thirty seconds have passed, and I’ve officially spent too much time thinking about her.

Ryder looks up when I step into the kitchen, and his eyebrows rise on his forehead. The fuck happened to you? he asks.

So much for not thinking about Genevieve. But of anyone I know, he’ll get it.

He continues, Is Olivia okay?

She’s fine. Sleeping.

So what is it?

I pull my phone from my pocket and hand it to him. He jabs the home button and the screen lights up, showing my most recent texts.

His face transforms from concerned curiosity to revulsion. The fuck does she think she’s doing?

No idea. I shrug.

This is some bad vibes right here, he says, handing my phone back carefully, like he thinks it might bite him. You know she’s got some kind of new game going.

Maybe, I say.

No maybe about it, he says. Block her number. I have.

I look at him sharply. Really?

First thing I did when she got on that plane to London.

He’s a smarter man than me. But if I block her number, she’ll just find some other way to get in touch. I wouldn’t put it past her to get on a plane and show up at my penthouse. I say as much to Ryder.

Text her back, then, he says. I don’t care what you have to tell her to get her to go away. Pretend you’re a random dude who mugged Jaxon and stole his phone and tell her Jaxon’s dead now.

I smile at that, because it’s tempting.

Whatever the fuck you do, do not let her sink those pink fingernails into you again. We—I mean you—have a good thing going with Olivia.

Damn straight, I say. Are you making breakfast?

Yeah. Does Olivia like waffles or pancakes more?

Not sure.

He looks at the mixing bowl in front of him. I’ll make waffles. The first ones will be ready in twenty.

I’ll go wake her up, then.

I don’t care if she’s dressed for breakfast, he says, an almost-smile on his face.

Me neither. I can’t hold back my smirk.

He shakes his head, but his good humor remains. Don’t dick around with her for too long or the waffles will all be cold.

Olivia

I wake alone in an unfamiliar bed, but I’m not freaked out because it smells like Jaxon. Citrus and leather. Also, there’s the faint scent of pine, like Ryder.

So I know I’m safe. And I remember where I am—Ryder’s cabin. We came here last night after Daniel tried to kidnap me. I quickly shove away thoughts of Daniel. I’ll need to process them, sure, but right now I’d much rather think of those blissful moments in the car. Jaxon’s hands on my breasts, Ryder’s eyes on me as Jaxon thrust into me.

I came while looking directly at Ryder…and then he came, too.

It’s one of the hottest moments of my life. I seem to be getting a lot of those, lately.

Jaxon walks into the room and sees me sitting up. He’s wearing a pair of jeans and nothing else, and the sight of him, bare-chested and casual, makes my heart beat faster.

Babydoll, he says. I’m glad you’re awake.

Awake, but alone, I say with an exaggerated sigh.

You’re lonely? he asks.

I was until you came back. I peer up at him from beneath my eyelashes, a trick I’ve learned will cause him to get all dominant and grabby.

I really like the dominant and grabby version of him.

He doesn’t disappoint, and reaches for my waist. He flips me over so I’m lying on my stomach, then he nudges my knees apart. I’m wearing panties and the t-shirt I had on yesterday. My bra is somewhere on the floor, discarded so I could sleep more comfortably.

Aw, Babydoll, he drawls, and I look at him over my shoulder. He’s shoving down his pants, then kicking them off. You want to play?

Always, I murmur.

He kneads my ass, my hips, then he pulls aside the gusset of my panties. His finger is thick and hot as he drags it through my folds, and I whimper. I’m already so fucking wet for him.

You ready for my cock, little one? he asks.

Yes, Daddy, I say.

Good. You want to beg for it? His voice is gruff.

Please, Daddy. Please give me your cock. I need it more than anything, he has to know that, right?

I feel him there, his thick head poised at my entrance, sliding through my juices. I’m so wet I’d be embarrassed if I was with anyone except Jaxon. With Jaxon, there’s no embarrassment—only need.

Fuck, you feel so good, he says, his voice a low growl. Take my cock, Babydoll.

He slides in all the way, his body settling over mine. My legs are open, but I’m facedown and it’s hard to keep them as wide as they usually are for him. It makes everything tighter, more intense. My panties are still on, too. The lace rubs against my clit as Jaxon begins to move.

His teeth are sharp against my shoulder. I look to the side, see his forearm next to my head as he braces himself above me. With his other arm, he reaches under my chest to squeeze one of my breasts. His pinch on my nipple is anything but gentle, and I cry out.

I love it when you make those noises, Babydoll. He pinches me again. Louder, sweetheart, so Mr. Ryder can hear you.

So dirty, so filthy…and so right. I do as he asks, shouting loud enough to be heard throughout the house, probably. I picture Ryder’s face last night in the rearview mirror, how he’d locked his gaze with mine and I’d come so hard. And he’d been jerking himself off. It had been a moment shared, and I didn’t know exactly what it meant, but I knew I liked it.

Babydoll, Daddy’s close, Jaxon says.

His thrusts get harder, faster. My clit is one pinpoint of nerves and pressure, and ecstasy’s ripping through my body like electricity—fast and hot.

You better come, Babydoll. Right now. Come for Daddy.

And I do. Simple as that. Giving him that power, pleasing him, letting him decide and mold my pleasure to his will—it’s all I need. My orgasm is fast and potent, and he empties into me with a groan, stilling momentarily while his cock twitches inside.

I nearly sob with relief. This was everything I wanted, and he gave it to me, no questions asked, no games played.

He kisses my shoulder and rubs his hands over my back, then gently pulls out. I can feel his come, hot and wet, on the inside of my thighs before my underwear snaps back into place.

Time for breakfast, Babydoll, he says, rolling me over and pulling me up to sitting. He finds his pants on the floor and puts them on.

I run into the bathroom to freshen up, then come out to find him waiting for me.

Have you seen my pants? I ask.

He gives me a wicked grin, and his dark eyes lock on my legs. You don’t need them.

But Ryder’s out there…

And my t-shirt is plenty long on you, he says. It might hide too much.

Fine. I know I won’t win this argument, so I stand on my tiptoes and reach for his shoulders. I wrap my arms around his neck. Carry me?

He looks surprised, then pleased, as he lifts me in his arms. I wrap my legs around his waist.

Do you know how fucking perfect you are? he asks.

I didn’t, but I love the way his voice fills with wonder as he says it.

Something vibrates in his pants.

Your phone’s buzzing, I say.

His brow furrows. It’s not important.

Are you sure? What if it’s the police? I probably need to talk to them or something.

You will, don’t worry. He kisses my nose. But right now, nothing is more important than feeding you Ryder’s waffles.

We emerge from the dim hallway and I blink in the bright morning light streaming through large kitchen windows. Ryder’s wearing a t-shirt and baggy athletic shorts. He stands in front of a waffle iron. Next to it, perfectly formed waffles are stacked on a plate. Bacon is frying in a pan on the stove.

Good morning,