𝐂𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐘

[24] Yes Sir

y e s  s i r
CONRAD'S POV:

"Do you think you're like Mr. Darcy?" Covey asks me as we walk into the lobby of my penthouse suite. 

I think about it for a second and turn the thought over in my head. "What's got you asking?"

"It's just—he was so unhappy with himself," she explains, looking up at me with a smile. "But he had a little soft spot for Elizabeth. Do you think you have any similarities or no?"

I hum. "Perhaps."

"Quite possibly," she mutters, walking ahead of me before pressing the elevator button. "I mean, maybe you need to go to therapy or something. I wish you would smile more."

"I smile plenty," I tell her, clenching my jaw.

Her small hands reach up to cup my face before she taps my cheek with her palm. "My point exactly," Covey says, poking the small dimple I inherited from my mother's side of the family. "Smile."

I smile lightly, rolling my eyes. 

She lets out a tiny 'awe.'

"I smile enough, okay? I laugh and smile for you," I deadpan. "Now shut up."

"Let's be nice," she says, pointing a finger in my chest. "And maybe I'll fuck you with my mouth again," she whispers, getting up on her tippy toes to say it into my ear. 

"Goddammit, Covey," I say through gritted teeth, pushing her backwards into the elevator when it opens. "I told you not to say those words."

"What else am I supposed to say?" she asks innocently, her lip going in between her teeth. "I'm being serious, I will fuck you with my mouth. Be good." Who is this girl and what have you done with Covey?

"Head," I say, my jaw tightening. "You can say 'I'll give you head' or 'I'll give you a blowjob.'" I slightly cringe at myself. What the hell, man. "I don't like you cussing, I say enough bad words for the both of us."

"Whatever, dad," she grumbles, crossing her arms over her chest. Holy fuck. She makes it so hard not to pin her against the wall and fuck her.

Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Maintain self-control.

We get to my floor and she follows behind me, her fingers interlooped with my belt loops, and I try to hurry the hell up to my apartment so I can kiss her and hold her and do everything she'll let my sinful hands do. Her tiny footsteps try to catch up and when I get to my door, I hear her trying to regain her breath. Panting. Shit.

Tell my brain to shut up. 

And tell my mind to put a filter on my words.

When the door opens, she tries to walk right past me, but I grab her wrists and pull her flush against my chest. "Covey," I say, looking down at her.

She visibly gulps. "Yes, Coco Puff?" That stupid nickname.

Just take a fucking breath.

"I don't want to be one of those guys," I admit, not sure how to start this. "And I'm really gonna try not to be. But I do want exclusivity." 

"What do you mean one of 'those' guys?"

She really doesn't have a clue?

"The kind that control things," I explain, letting out a sigh. "That put unnecessary boundaries around what their—" Fuck, what are we? "what their girlfriends do with their life."

She tenses underneath my arms and stares up at me with her big, hazel eyes. "Girl-friends or girlfriend?"

"Significant other," I exhale.