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WpMetadataReadMatureOngoing14m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Sat, Aug 24, 2024
"You're nice because you're still a young little girl." She answered the older man innocently. "Is that so, Father?"
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"You're not a plaything." He insisted. "Then, what am I?" I asked. "My little girl." My lips curled upwards at his response. She was just eighteen, and he was thirty-five. She was a cute socialite and he was a handsome caterer. He read her like a book, and she found her defenses begin to crumble.

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