She came downstairs almost an hour later.
I was leaning against the wall by the front door, arms crossed, watching the clock. When she finally appeared I let a slow smirk pull at my mouth.
“I gave you thirty minutes.”
Hazel rolled her eyes, but there was heat behind it. “Thirty minutes is not enough for a woman to get ready, Daddy.”
She had changed into a short black dress that clung to every curve and almost nothing underneath. I didn’t answer. I just opened the door and led her to the car.
The drive to my newly finished apartment was quiet, thick with the kind of tension that made my c**k stay half-hard the entire way. She kept glancing at me, thighs pressed together, already restless. I kept my eyes on the road and my hands on the wheel, because if I touched her before we got there
