Teach Me Daddy

by Isabella Starling

  Table of Contents

  Epilogue – Cora

  Maddox

  Cora

  About Isabella Starling

  About Demi Donovan

  Teach Me Daddy

  Isabella Starling

  Demi Donovan

  Contents

  1. Maddox

  2. Cora

  3. Maddox

  4. Cora

  5. Cora

  6. Maddox

  7. Cora

  8. Maddox

  9. Maddox

  10. Cora

  11. Maddox

  12. Cora

  13. Maddox

  14. Cora

  15. Maddox

  16. Cora

  17. Maddox

  18. Cora

  19. Maddox

  20. Cora

  21. Maddox

  22. Cora

  23. Maddox

  24. Cora

  25. Maddox

  26. Cora

  27. Maddox

  28. Maddox

  29. Maddox

  30. Cora

  31. Maddox

  Epilogue – Cora

  About Isabella Starling

  About Demi Donovan

  Copyright © 2017 by Isabella Starling & Demi Donovan

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover design by RBA Designs

  Cover photography by Wander Aguiar

  Cover model Fred DiBella

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  One

  Maddox

  If she only knew how beautiful she was, she would have never ended up like this.

  I shuffled through the pictures one after another for what had to be the fifth time, taking in each image. It had been a long time since I’d even held actual photographs instead of scrolling through a list on some smartphone. It seemed fitting, in a way.

  She had the kind of ageless beauty that the digital era could never do justice to.

  “I know she’s not much, but I really fucking need this,” he told me, running his hand through his hair nervously.

  It was thinning. Blond. He had that wily look in his eyes that I’d come to recognize from seeing one too many people who’d gotten in over their heads. But I couldn’t really spare him much of my attention right now.

  Looking at pictures of her was like staring at the sun. I couldn’t look away, even though I knew she was burning me up inside out. My mouth was cotton, my head hummed, endless visions of her assaulting me like a sweet, twisted daydream.

  How good she’d look, bent over a rack, her tight ass in the air, the pink lips of her pussy wet and waiting.

  What kind of sounds she’s make when I rammed my cock in her asshole for the first time.

  Would she beg me for more if I twisted her nipples, if I clamped them? If I sucked on them and bit them?

  Would she stretch herself to fit me willingly, or would I have to teach her to do it?

  Would she be mine entirely, or would she just give me her body?

  “She’s a virgin?” I asked, cutting through the nervous back and forth pacing of the excuse of a man I was sharing a space with at the moment.

  “Oh, trust me. She’s a virgin alright,” he said, a crooked grin lighting up his face.

  There was hope in his eyes now, gleaming and desperate. The last thing I wanted was to make his day, but I wasn’t given a chance right now. The first moment I saw her pictures, I knew I couldn’t say no. No matter what the deal was. No matter how long or short I could have her for. I needed her, and I was going to fucking have her.

  “You’re certain?” I asked, feeling my cock throb painfully in my jeans.

  “No doubt in my mind.”

  “Good,” I said simply, setting the stack of photos in order and sliding them into a pocket in my briefcase.

  “Does that mean… does that mean you’ll do it?” he asked.

  It gave me pause, but not for long. Knowing that her body was untouched, that she was waiting for me, aching for me…

  “Yes. But it’ll be on my terms.”

  “Whatever you want, man,” he said, smiling wide now. “I’ll text you the details, alright? You don’t know how much this means to me, that you-“

  “Fine,” I said, feeling my skin crawl from sharing a space with this douche. “Text me the details.”

  I grabbed the briefcase and headed out, letting the door fall shut behind me. I walked down the long corridor toward the crowded street, people milling back and forth behind the glass door leading outside. I thought my head would clear the moment I stepped out, that she’d be wiped away and brushed into the recesses of my mind like the rest of them had.

  She wouldn’t budge. And I didn’t mind.

  My fingers flexed around the handle of the briefcase as I stepped out and the sunlight bathed me in warmth. I filed into the throng of bodies seamlessly, starting to walk toward my car almost on autopilot.

  I shouldn’t have agreed to do it. I shouldn’t have said yes.

  Yet the fact that she’d be wrapped around my cock soon, begging and pleading my name, meant that it would all be worth it. I’d take her, I’d break her, and I’d put her back together the way she needed to be put together again. And then I’d get over her, it would be like it never happened.

  That’s what always happened.

  How was I to know that this time, it wouldn’t.

  Two

  Cora

  I looked into the mirror one more time. My hands slid over my chest, down my belly and my hips. There were curves there I wasn't used to. Indents and crevices that hadn't been there last year. I looked different. I looked like I'd grown up.

  I'd gotten a haircut a few days ago, chopping my stringy red hair until it was shoulder-length. The hairdresser had taught me how to style it, too, and now it framed my face in big, voluminous waves.

  My eyes were still the same, at least. Still that bright green color that looked so unusual coupled with my red hair and the scattering of freckles across the bridge of my nose. Were it not for them, my skin would've looked like porcelain, like my mom used to say.

  With a sigh, I cupped my tits and squeezed them. They'd grown too, gotten so much bigger than the tiny A-cups I had last year. I hadn't gone bra shopping, though I needed to, since I didn't want to bother dad and ask him for some money. It would've been too embarrassing. But I'd measured them myself with instructions I'd found online, and I knew they were now a C-cup.

  I decided to skip the bra that day. It would never fit anyway, and I didn't feel like stuffing my boobs into a too-small outfit when I was just going to be at home. I would have more than enough of that when the school year began and I'd have to wear the uniforms that were all too small for me now.

  I pulled on a simple T-shirt dress I'd gotten from the mall that summer, looking at my reflection in the mirror to make sure the dress wasn't see-through. As long as my nipples didn't get hard, I would be fine. No one would have a clue that I wasn't wearing a bra.

  "Cora! Get the fuck down here!"

  I froze for a moment. I'd taken too long with getting ready, or more like trying to avoid what was coming next.

  I rushed, smoothing the dress down over my new curves and giving my hair a final flick before running downstairs. I'd planned on doing my makeup too, to practice for the first day of school on the next day, but now I didn't have the time. All I had on was some Chapsti
ck and a bit of mascara.

  I almost fell flat on my face when I got to the base of the stairs from being in such a hurry. I didn't want to piss dad off any more than he already was.

  Since mom died when I was just a kid, it seemed like he was permanently in a bad mood. I could barely remember the last time I saw him smile. He was drunk as hell most of the time, with a hair-trigger temper. It didn't take a lot to make him angry.

  Luckily, I'd never had to handle his anger, as he was always lenient with me. I was sure he'd never hurt me. I wasn't that confident when it came to anyone else, though.

  I walked into the kitchen, feeling immediately self-conscious when I came into the view of several men. All the familiar faces were there. The Sunday night poker crew. My dad's old friend, Jared, wolf-whistled when he saw me coming in.

  I felt naked then, wearing my stupid dress and nothing else. I hadn't even had the time to slip on some panties, and the warm breeze of the late summer day wafted across my naked legs.

  "Anything I can do for you, dad?" I asked and the men leered at me.

  "Grab us some beers from the cooler," he told me, motioning toward the case without so much as giving me a look.

  Grateful for the distraction, I moved toward the cooler in the corner of the room, but I could still hear their conversation while I got the beer bottles.

  "She's turning into a piece of fucking work, that one," Jared slurred, and my dad laughed.

  How the hell were they drunk already?

  "That's my kid you're talking about," he remarked. "Don't make me punch you, Jar."

  "Just saying," Jared added defensively, scoffing. "The tits on that little thing. Wish I could cum all over them."

  "Shut the fuck up," someone from the table warned him, and I froze in the doorway, clutching the bottles to my chest. I knew Jared had gotten himself into trouble. I could see the punch coming before my dad's fist ever moved.

  Even though my dad was weird sometimes, he was fiercely protective of me. He'd never let anyone talk about me like that, least of all when I was in the room.

  Sure enough, I heard him slamming his fist into Jared's face next. Loud cursing followed and then I heard the front door opening and closing as Jared landed on his ass outside our house. I made like I was still busy with the beer. The truth as I just didn't want to see what was going on.

  "Here are your beers," I said softly, depositing a bottle in front of every one of my dad's remaining friends. I could feel their eyes on me, checking me out, and for some reason, it excited me.

  I hated myself for it. These were men who were double my age, men who could have been my father. And I would never in a million years let any of them kiss me, or touch me. But still, I liked that someone had noticed me. It sure as hell hadn't happened before.

  When I gave my dad a beer as he returned, he gave me a scrutinous look. He looked at me like it was my fault what had happened, like he was pissed at me, but I had no idea why. So I just fidgeted on the spot, unsure of what he wanted me to do next.

  "Anything else I can do for you?" I asked awkwardly while everyone else was silent, oddly transfixed with their cards.

  I guess it wasn't just me who could feel the tensity in the room.

  "What were you even doing up there?" dad asked me.

  "Getting ready for school," I said with a shrug. "Tomorrow's the first day, remember?"

  "What year are you in now?" one of dad's friends asked me.

  "I'm a senior in high school," I answered. "I just turned eighteen this summer."

  "Legal," he remarked with a leery grin, and I blushed so deeply I thought I'd burn up on the spot.

  It definitely wasn't the same guy who had warned Jared.

  "Don't make me throw you out right along with Jared's ass," dad warned him, his tone a low hiss. "Go on, Cora, go back upstairs."

  "Okay," I said in a small voice.

  I walked out of there, but as I was leaving, I felt a sharp gaze following me. I hesitated in the doorway, hearing all the men getting back to their poker game, and risked a look over my shoulder.

  Dad was looking at me, his eyes burning a hole in my back as he watched me move out of the room.

  I wanted to say something, ask him what was wrong, but the words dried up in my mouth. Instead, I just turned around and pretended the strange moment hadn't happened. I walked through the entryway and up the stairs, trying to forget the look in my dad's eyes.

  That was when the doorbell rang.

  "Cora!" dad bellowed out. "Get that."

  I sighed. I wanted to get back to picking out my outfit for the next day and making sure I had everything ready for my last first day of high school. But because I'd always been obedient, and because I was a little afraid of the consequences if I didn't do what he asked of me when he was in one of his moods, I made the trek back down the stairs and toward the front door.

  "Who is it?" I called out.

  I waited a moment. No answer.

  I furrowed my brows, and called out into the kitchen, "Are you expecting someone else for the poker game?"

  I didn't get an answer, just a steady murmur of voices. Everyone was probably too busy playing to acknowledge my question.

  All I could do was hope that the man on the other side of the door wasn't Jared. I really didn't want to deal with him again that night. I was glad dad had sent him away.

  Finally, I just gave in and opened the door.

  I had to look up to see who it was, and the man standing before me wasn't anyone I recognized. He looked much, much too good for our little backwater town, let alone for our little house in the suburbs.

  "D-daddy?" I called out for my father, a word I hadn't used in years. It was supposed to be a call, but it came out more like a whisper as I stared at the handsome stranger.

  His hair was dark, streaked with a tiny bit of grey on the sides. He had these piercing grey eyes, bright but promising a depth and darkness to them if someone got under his skin the wrong way. A faint hint of stubble lined his chin, and I could see a multitude of tattoos sneaking from under his sleeves and the low collar of the T-shirt he was wearing.

  "Daddy?" he smirked. His voice was deep and delicious. "Sure, I'll be your Daddy, little thing."

  Three

  Maddox

  I couldn’t stop staring at her. She was just as perfect as she had been in the pictures, even better in fact.

  That delicate face with high cheekbones and innocent eyes staring up at me, those plump pink lips, slightly parted, making me think what she would look like on her knees with my cock shoved between them… The curves that she was growing into, with the thick swell of her tits that even the loose dress could do nothing to hide…

  Perfect.

  And she’d just called me Daddy and I had to do everything I could to not shove her against the wall and give her a first taste of what a real man tasted like. To say that I was hard was an understatement.

  It was like a shot of pure adrenaline went flying straight through my bloodstream and I was riding the high. I could have just stood there, looking at her, for the rest of the night, but the voices coming from further in the house kicked me out of that daydream of all the things I could and would do to her.

  “Mad Dog, is that you?”

  And the spell was broken.

  I sighed, stifling the urge to roll my eyes at that old, forgotten nickname. If there was ever a man I had hoped never to see again, it was Alexander Royce, the kid I never liked in high school, and the man I would likely enjoy spending time with just as little. But seeing as the circumstances called for alternative measures this time, I would simply have to roll with the punches.

  “Do you want to show me in? Or are you going to just stand and stare?” I asked Cora, shoving my hands in my pockets nonchalantly.

  Though there was nothing casual about it. I needed to shift my hard-on slightly before walking into the poker game I wasn’t looking forward to. While Cora could be clueless in all her innocence, I was sure tha
t at least one of the grown-ass men in the building would notice if I walked in with a raging hard-on behind a barely legal teenager.

  Not that I expected them to be hiding theirs any better. With how Cora looked, there was no fucking way every single one of those men wasn’t jerking off to her the moment they got to their respective homes. Hell, if any of them took longer than a couple of minutes during the game to take a leak, I’d know they hadn’t lasted even that long.

  I couldn’t blame the poor bastards either.

  Cora didn’t budge, but her cheeks were lit with pink and I could see her nervousness clear as day. It was the sweetest thing. I leaned forward, coming level with her face, just a few inches between us.

  “Be a good girl for Daddy now,” I said mockingly, but it felt so fucking right the moment those words slipped over my lips.

  It was decided then and there. That was exactly what I wanted her to call me from now on.

  “I’m sorry,” she murmured with that blush only deepening, turning around on her heel quickly and heading in.

  I closed the door behind me and walked in after her, distracting myself with learning the layout of the downstairs of the house in order to stop staring at the swing of her ass as she skittered toward the kitchen.

  It was a nondescript home, lacking in personality. It wasn’t too small, or too big or fancy. If anything, I’d call it Spartan – everything had a purpose. The walls were blank, there wasn’t a decorative pillow or knick-knack in sight. Knowing Alex, I’d half-expected singing sea basses on the walls. But I guess he wasn’t the Alexander Royce I remembered anymore.

  “Mad Dog!” Alex greeted me as we walked into the kitchen with Cora.

  She made herself scarce, fussing around with a cooler in the corner and trying to pretend like she wasn’t listening in on the conversation.

  “Alexander,” I said with a slight smile. “Sorry for being late.”