Daddy's Girl: A Daddy Issues Novel

by Rebel Wild

  Her eyes almost pop out of her head when she sees me. She must have said something because Leslie and the prick are now aware of her surprise. Leslie follows her stare and I can see she recognizes me. She instantly lowers her head when I look at her. She’s always been shy. She’d make a great submissive. I can already tell she wouldn’t give me any trouble. Why couldn’t I pick a nice, truly submissive girl like her to be infatuated with? I’d settle for one my own age. One look at Sydney answers that question. My body zings at the sight of her. I’ll take her bad attempt at trying to be submissive over the real deal any day.

  “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friends?” I say to Sydney.

  I take the opportunity to size up the prick as she stands like a deer caught in headlights. I can almost hear the gears in her head revving up from me standing in front of her when she left me way across town this morning. Clearly, me showing up to check on her never entered her mind. Not that it should. It’s not what Doms do normally, but normal is overrated anyway. Who the fuck wants normal shit?

  Breathing easy, I sit down for my last class of the day. I’m really happy with the course outlines for this semester. All my favorite novels are on the required reading list and a few more that I haven’t heard of but have already piqued my interest. I’ll visit the bookstore tomorrow and see if I can find any of them if Mr. Garrett doesn’t already have them in his library. I look over at my new friend Matt. He seems to be just as excited as I am that his classes are all good, most of which he has with me since he’s an English Lit major.

  We met outside of our first class. We were the only ones that showed up early, and we had to wait outside on a bench until it was time to go in. He struck up a conversation with me and we hit it off. When he told me his life’s dream is to have a library of first editions of his favorite classics, I was tempted to tell him about Mr. Garrett’s impressive collection, but I didn’t. I can’t wait until he gets home from work so I can tell him about my day and the funny thing that happened with one of my professors.

  “Let’s get coffee,” Matt says as we walk out of class to meet up with Leslie.

  We’ve been hanging out all day, the three of us.

  “Okay, but just for a few minutes,” I tell him.

  Leslie doesn’t give me a hard time about not hanging out longer. She knows what the deal is. Well, she knows the watered-down version. She thinks I finally got the hot DA she used to drool over when I’d bring her with me to see Daddy.

  “Great,” she says, not giving Matt a chance to say anything to the contrary.

  I have a feeling she just wants to hang out with him by herself anyway. He’s so her type: tall, with just enough confidence for it not to come off as conceited.

  We walk into the coffee shop and the delicious smell of things baking makes me hungry, but I don’t eat anything. Bree let it slip that Mr. Garrett is planning something special for dinner and she was excited about it. Sometimes she acts like we’re dating. I realize the thought of dating him doesn’t make my stomach turn like it used to.

  I’m having so much fun that I stay longer than I meant to, but I’m not really that worried. Mr. Garrett isn’t due home for another two hours. I was tempted to buy the fruit pastries shaped like little envelopes for him. They were unique enough to please him and I know he has a sweet tooth that he tries to hide. I found his stash of hard candies in the library. I was disappointed that they weren’t fresh enough for his taste and I didn’t have time for them to fill a special order. We get more drinks to go and I’m in an excellent mood as we walk out of the coffee shop, but I stop mid-stride.

  “Did you forget something?” Matt asks.

  I’m unable to take another step as the person I’m looking at advances closer to us. It can’t be him. I want to kick myself because thinking about him all day has conjured him up. Leslie follows my stare.

  “Whoa,” she says about the man in the dark gray suit that is so tailor-made to fit, it looks like it’s painted on to showcase every well-defined muscle in his body. His hair is a coarse blend of black and gray that’s styled to make him look more playful than I know he is.

  “Sydney,” he says, approaching us. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friends?”

  The way he is staring daggers at Matt makes it obvious he’s the only “friend” he’s interested in being introduced to.

  “Of course,” I say, but I’m not sure how I’m to introduce him. “Well, you know Leslie, and this is Matt. Matt, this is… uh…”

  “Tristan Garrett,” he finishes for me. “Sydney’s boyfriend.”

  I nearly drop the to-go cup of coffee I’m carrying with that announcement. It’s one thing not to correct his mother when she catches us kissing, but now this makes no sense.

  “Nice meeting you,” Matt says, but Mr. Garrett isn’t even pretending not to be an asshole to him.

  Poor guy’s just standing there sipping his coffee, completely oblivious to the disgust Mr. Garrett has all over his face for him. Meanwhile, I’m looking behind him, making sure a cop car doesn’t pull up and arrest him for daring to breathe the same air as his submissive. What’s he doing here anyway? Did he think I was jacking him off in the middle of the coffee shop?

  “Good to see you, Leslie,” Mr. Garrett says.

  “Hi, sir,” she says.

  I can almost see the hearts bursting from her eyes when he smiles at her. She has gone all bowed-head and shy like she used to. I guess that’s why Mr. Garrett didn’t mind her being around. She’s naturally submissive to him.

  She’s ready and willing to do whatever he says, and I want to punch her right now for it. I hate seeing how pleased he is with her submitting to him so perfectly, unlike me, who messes it up nearly every chance I get. I’m sure seeing her do it right makes him see what he’s been missing with having me. What I don’t get is why I care.

  “I just came to pick you up to celebrate your first day back in school together, baby,” Mr. Garrett says to me.

  My entire body heats up at the way he says the word baby like he means it. I know damn well he doesn’t. In the back of my mind, I still catch myself wondering how it would be if he actually meant all of this and he wasn’t just using it as a way to beat his chest to Matt.

  Tristan Garrett is not boyfriend material. Tristan Garrett is not boyfriend material. I repeat it over and over in my head until I believe it.

  “But I drove my car,” I say, reminding him of the car he gave me just this morning so that I could drive myself to school and back. I mean, that was the whole point.

  “I’ll have someone pick it up for you,” he says. He pulls me into his arms and gives me a kiss that makes my knees weak. I even hear Leslie moan in vicarious ecstasy from it. I feel his hand come up and tug at my collar to remind me of what it means. “I missed you today, baby,” he continues to slather it on thick. “I want to take you out to dinner and show you just how much.” He actually smacks me on my butt.

  “Hmm,” is all I manage to say at this point. I’m caught between feeling embarrassed, angry, and as humiliating as it is to admit, turned on by the fake-ass, loving boyfriend’s attention.

  “I’ll see you guys tomorrow,” I call back to Matt and Leslie over my shoulder while I’m being pulled away.

  “Have a good time you two,” Matt says, with a wave.

  I envy his oblivion. To him, Mr. Garrett is just a loving boyfriend coming to surprise his girlfriend by taking her out to celebrate, only I know better.

  “Call me later.” Leslie mouths.

  I already know she wants all the details on what it’s like to be involved with him. I shake my head. I won’t be calling her for that conversation anytime soon.

  Mr. Garrett opens his car door for me and slams it shut once I’m safely inside. I see him give one last glance at Matt before hopping in the driver’s seat. Now that we’re alone, the loving b
oyfriend disappears and his mood sours. We sit in silence as he navigates his black sports car through the city.

  “Sir, I don’t think I’m dressed well enough for this place,” I start to tell him as he tosses his keys to the valet outside of the Mediterranean Blue restaurant Daddy took me and Mom to when she came to visit four years ago. I think he was trying to impress her.

  “Are you questioning me, Miss Warren?” He demands to know. So much for “baby.”

  “No, sir.”

  I’m just questioning why he would pick this place when I’m dressed in the same outfit I wore to school. He’s the one always telling me I should dress well for him. Now he’s breaking his own rule by taking me out in a boring, white, cotton dress and flats. He walks confidently with me on his arm as the hostess shows us to our table.

  “Look at me,” he demands as I pretend to study the menu and I do as I’m told. Something in his eyes is making me nervous. It’s not anger, but it doesn’t look like anything good either. I just can’t figure him out yet. I decide I need to tread lightly, so I sub up. “How was your day?”

  “Fine, sir.”

  “Just fine?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Do you like your classes?”

  I think he is genuinely interested and I’m eager to tell him, but I just can’t trust his mood yet.

  “Yes, sir,” I simply answer his question.

  He makes no further attempts to talk to me as we silently eat our dinner.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  This is just fucking terrific. She’s clammed up on me. I can’t even sway her with a conversation about her classes. She must be excited about them, and I genuinely want to hear about her day. Perhaps I should have called Maloney to talk me out of this after all.

  I cannot believe I’m sitting here second-guessing myself. To hell with that. I’m her damn Dom. I decide how this shit goes, not her. I can order her to speak to me if I choose, and to not act all… well shit, I can’t order her to stop acting submissive. I’ve fucked myself in the ass on this one.

  We eat our meal in silence. Sydney’s uneasiness is pouring off her and I hate it. I hope that I haven’t set us back with this fuckup. I call the celebratory dinner a wash and drive us back home.

  “I need to catch up on work,” I tell her, pissed at myself for getting us into this mess. “I assume you’ll be in the library?”

  “Yes, sir,” she says, still with her two-word answers.

  Normally, I like my women quiet, but I’ve grown to like how talkative Sydney gets when she’s happy. I nod my approval and watch as she walks away in the direction of the library. She’s practically running away from me. She hasn’t done that since the first day she arrived.

  I’m at my desk for over an hour looking over what I have on the docket for tomorrow. Sydney talking to someone breaks the deafening silence. The sounds are muffled, but I’d know her voice anywhere. It’s lively like she’s excited. I get up to go investigate. The closer I get to the kitchen door, the clearer the voices become. Instead of barging in this time, I stand in the hall and listen.

  “So, your professor gave you all an excerpt from a book and he wanted you to critique it?” Brianna asks her.

  “But wait,” she says. “When we all passed our papers forward, they were all filled with red marks. He went back to his desk and read the critiques out loud, all of them saying how they could see why the story was rejected by every publishing company in the state of California.”

  “And that pissed him off?” Joe asks. She must have nodded because I didn’t hear her respond.

  “It wasn’t until after he stormed out that his TA let us know the excerpt was from the professor’s own rejected novel,” she says, her voice nearly in hysterics at that tidbit of juicy news.

  “Ouch. That had to hurt,” Bree says.

  “Some people just can’t handle the truth, boo-boo,” Joe tells Brianna and Sydney laughs at, I’m sure, him calling her that ridiculous name.

  Even so, I can’t stand that he’s made her laugh. I want to make her laugh. I wanted her to tell me about her damn day, but instead, she tells Joe and Brianna. I’m sure that prick Matt was there to have a good laugh about it with her today. My blood is boiling. Everyone gets to share in her day, but me. She’s mine and it’s time she realizes it. I walk through the door and they all look at me.

  “I need to speak with Miss Warren,” I tell them, but they just sit there. “Alone,” I say, glaring at them.

  Brianna automatically looks at Joe, wanting him to say something, but he just shakes his head at me. He pushes himself off the counter he was leaning on and walks toward the door, but when Bree doesn’t move, he takes her by the hand. Joe gives me a look, making it clear that I had better not do anything stupid before he walks Bree out the door. So, now she has my family defending her. This is just fucking great.

  Taking Sydney by the arm, I pull her into the library and close the door with a loud thud that makes her jump. She looks at me with widened eyes as I stalk up to her. My intentions to do her harm are so clear that she instinctively backs away. She hits the wall behind her. I grab both of her wrists with one hand and hold them above her head, pressing them into the hard brick wall to keep her still. My other hand disappears under her dress.

  “You need a lesson in who this belongs to, Miss Warren,” I hiss, pushing her panties aside as I slide my middle finger inside her.

  “No, sir,” she says with a catch of her breath.

  She shifts her hips to get away from me, but it only makes me want to control her more. I bring my lips to hers, feeling every muscle in her body tense and bracing for the contact. She relaxes into it. The way her body responds to me even when she doesn’t want it to gets me hard. I pull back to look at her. She’s like an angel in her white cotton dress, so sweet. She’s too damn sweet for my taste right now.

  “Take off your clothes,” I order her, stepping back to give her room.

  She slips off her flats, then gathers the hem of her dress. Her eyes lock with mine as she pulls it over her head, letting it fall to the floor beside her. She shakes her hair back in place, as a hint of embarrassment plays on her face. I see something else in her expression: Defiance or maybe lust. It looks like my little Foxy is starting to like kink more and more. I nod my head for her to continue. Her nude colored bra that perfectly matches her skin comes off next, followed by her panties.

  “Safewords?”

  “Bunnies and spiders, sir,” she says, bowing her head.

  “Look at me!” Her head snaps up, giving me a doe-eyed stare. It turns salacious as her eyes drift down my body. She’s not as scared of me as she’s pretending to be. “Come here,” I order her, and she obeys. “Whose collar are you wearing?”

  “Your collar, sir.”

  “And what does that mean?”

  “That I belong to you, sir.”

  “Do you, Miss Warren?” The words come out through my clenched teeth. “I didn’t get that feeling from you today.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Who’s the boy?”

  “He’s just a friend, sir. I thought I could have friends.”

  “And if he wants more, can he have it?”

  “No, sir. I’m obligated to you.”

  I don’t want her goddamn obligation. I want her… submission? Yes, of course, that’s what I want.

  “Undress me.”

  I watch her fingers move down my shirt, undoing the buttons. The air hits my skin when she opens it and slides it off my arms. Her nipples brush into my chest as she does. They’re hard like I knew they would be. Her hands dip down to my pants, undoing them. She hooks her fingers into my boxers, springing my cock free as she slides them down my legs with the pants. I toe out of my shoes and toss it all to the side.

  She almost falls when I lift one of her legs. I sn
ake an arm around her waist to keep her steady as she wraps hers around my neck in that damn chokehold that turns me on. She’s completely assessable. I run my cock over her, testing how ready she is for me. She bites back a moan when I enter her. She fucking loves this shit. I don’t know who the hell she thinks she’s fooling.

  “Fuck,” I groan at how tight she is. How fucking deliciously addicting she is.

  Her arms tighten around my neck as I pound into her. My one hand is cradling her thigh, lifting that leg up while the other is grabbing her ass to keep her still. I pound her so hard she’s rising on her tiptoes. From the way she’s clinching my cock, she’s close to coming and it doesn’t look like she has any intention of asking my permission. I give her a few more good strokes, then pull out of my naughty little Foxy just before she comes. She whimpers a protest.

  “Were you planning on coming without permission, Foxy?”

  “No… no, Daddy,” she stammers. She can’t even lie well enough to save her sweet ass from a punishment.

  Hooking my finger under her collar, I pull her to a desk in the corner and bend her over it so fast her tits smack the Bubinga wood. She tries to hold herself up with her hands, but I push them away from her, draping them across the desk. Her bare feet are dancing between mine, trying to gain ground while her tight ass is exposed, begging to be spanked. Her bare skin on the dark, hand-lacquered wood is extremely enticing.

  “Who does this belong to?” I cup her in one hand.

  “You, Daddy.”

  “Damn right it belongs to me.”

  I take my hand, now wet from her juices, and slap her on the ass ten times, watching as it becomes bright pink. It’s supposed to be a punishment, but the way she’s whimpering gives away that she enjoys being spanked. I sit in the chair and turn her around before I pull her down on top of me. Her legs are slung over the armrests, straddling me. She’s wide open, just the way I like it, as I pound into her, making her bounce up with each hard thrust. I tangle a hand in the sweaty mess of her hair while the other grabs her ass, making it move on top of me.