by Daisy March
Daddy’s Sweet Little
A Daddy Dom Romance
Daisy March
Content © Copyright 2020 - Daisy March
Cover © Copyright 2020 - Daisy March
All Rights Reserved
This book is entirely the product of the author’s imagination. Names, characters, events, and situations are fictional and any resemblance to real persons, locations, or events are purely coincidental.
All characters portrayed are consenting adults over the age of eighteen.
No portion of this book may be reproduced in electronic or physical form without express written permission from the author excepting in the context of a brief quotation for review purposes.
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Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Epilogue
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About the Author
Chapter One
Susie
I stood in the parking lot in the pouring rain, trying to decide whether I was going in or not.
In front of me, the clinic door opened and an elderly woman shuffled out, blinking as the driving rain hit her face.
I ran forward, passing her my umbrella before she could get completely soaked. “Here,” I said. “You need this more than I do.”
“I’ll be all right,” she replied, holding the door open. “On the way in?”
“Maybe,” I said, pressing the umbrella into her hand.
“Thank you, love,” she said with a smile. “You’re a good’un.”
No, I’m not, I thought, watching as she walked over to the bus stop. I remembered that bus stop like I remembered the clinic. It was the only one I’d ever gone to.
I stood at that bus stop with mom on the day she got her diagnosis. We’d been inside, me drawing on a sketchpad next to her as she ranted at Dr. Jenkins, trying to ignore all the shouting.
“You’ve got it wrong. I feel fine. There’s nothing wrong with me, look at me. You’re upsetting my daughter talking like that.”
I just sat there shrinking into my seat as she got angrier and angrier, gripping my crayons ever tighter, hoping things would be all right again. They weren’t.
She was dying.
She stood at the bus stop afterward and it was raining that day too. I remember the rain running down the back of my cardigan. It had been nice when we’d come out. It was like the weather knew. My drawing was ruined, the sketchpad soaked in my hand.
Mom was telling me how doctors didn’t know anything at all. They were all liars and chancers. She would never die. She’d always be around for me. I never had to worry about anything.
Three years later she was dead. She lasted longer than they’d expected and the whole time she kept telling me it was all going to be fine. She made no plans for after her death, no will, not that she had much to leave.
Worse was the fact we had no relatives. In the depth of my grief I made the decision that was either the best or worst of my life.
Running away so I wouldn’t go into care. Was it a mistake? I was sixteen and certain I could survive on my own.
As I stood outside the doctor’s clinic three years later. I looked down at my torn jeans that clung to my legs in the rain.
I shivered, coughing loudly, my throat hurting. Would I still be on their books after all this time? Would they agree to see me? I was over eighteen now so they couldn’t do anything bad, right?
But what if they could? Maybe I should just try and cope. Another cough, this one making me wince, my whole body shaking with the effort.
They had to help people who were ill, didn’t they? I wouldn’t have to give a name if I didn’t want to, just to be safe. I only needed a prescription for something to stop this cough and I’d be all right soon enough.
I took a deep breath and then pushed open the door to the clinic. If nothing else, I’d at least be out of the rain for a few minutes. Living on the streets wasn’t easy but on a day like this, it was utterly miserable.
“Can I help you?” the receptionist asked without looking up.
“I hope so,” I said, wracked by another bout of coughing a moment later.
The smile fell from her face as she looked up at me. She looked like most people did when they saw me. It was a mixture of disgust and pity. Mostly disgust. I knew what I looked like. A mess.
“Hi,” I said, not getting any further. Yet another bout of coughing hit me, this one worse than the others. When it was finally over I felt dizzy, staggering over to the counter, grabbing hold of it with both hands. “Can I see a doctor?” I asked.
“Do you have an appointment?”
“No, but-“
“Are you on our books?”
“Look, I won’t be any trouble. Five minutes and I’ll be gone. I just need a little bit of help.”
She shook her head. “If you’re not on our books and you don’t have an appointment I can’t help you.”
Please, I’m not well.”
“Then go to a hospital.”
“I tried. They said it wasn’t serious enough.”
“I’m sorry but I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” She stood up, pointing at the door behind me.
“Please. I just need to see a doctor.”
“Out or I call the police.” She grabbed the receiver and lifted it to her ear. “I’m calling them now.”
I held my hands up. “All right, all right, I’m going.” The last thing I needed was the police getting involved.
She watched me go. “And don’t let me see you in here again. This isn’t a homeless shelter, you know?”
I pushed open the door, the rain hitting me in the face like a slap. I bumped into someone on the way in. “Watch it,” I snapped as I pushed past them.
Another cough hit me and the dizziness came back with a vengeance. I felt the world turning sideways and then I was laid on my back, blinking up at the rain. “What happened?” I asked the figure peering down at me.
He didn’t answer. Before I knew what was happening, I was lifted into a strong pair of arms, carried back inside past the receptionist who stared at me with her mouth open. “Dr. Reece. She doesn’t have an appointment.”
“She needs help,” he replied without stopping. “That’s what we’re here for.”
I looked up at the man carrying me along the corridor. He was huge, square jaw, two inches of beard, dark eyes, prominent brow.
“They want me to go,” I said to him. “You better put me down before we both get in trouble.”
He ignored me, kicking open a door and marching through, laying me down on a metal bed in the corner of the examination room. “Stay there,” he said. “Don’t try and move.”
I craned my neck to watch him as he crossed to the door and closed it firmly. He turned back, pulling off his long black coat to reveal a dark gray suit underneath. “What’s your name?” he asked, picking up a thermometer from the desk.
“Catherine,” I lied, saying the first name that came into my head.
“Well, Catherine, I think you’ve got a pretty bad fever. Got a cough, right? Had it for a couple of days?”
“Longer.”
He pushed the thermometer into my mouth. “It’s high,” he said, pulling it back out a few moments later. “You need to get out of those wet clothes as fast as possible. “You’ve got a fever. You need to be home in bed.”
“Don’t have one,” I said, getting slowly to my feet.
He pushed me back down, one hand gently nudging my shoulder toward the bed. “Don’t get up yet,” he said softly. “You’re not well.”
“That’s why I’m here.”
“How old are you, Catherine?”
“Nineteen.”
“Been on the streets long?”
“Long enough.”
“I’ve got some phone numbers around here. I can get you into a shelter.”
“I don’t like shelters. They’re full of druggies and I’m clean before you ask.”
“I know you are.”
“You do, how?”
“I can tell. You’ve been on the streets a while but you’ve fallen in with a bad crowd recently.”
“How do you know that?”
“You heard a siren in the car park and ducked your head down. Your clothes are cleanish. Your hair too. You still have some life in your eyes.”
He began writing something on a pad on his desk. “I’m going to write you a prescription for something for that cough but it’s the fever’s that’s worrying me. You need somewhere warm and dry to stay for a few days. I’m going to give you a number for you to call.”
“I haven’t got a cellphone.”
“I’ll give you one. Or you can come and stay in my cabin. You’d be out of the rain for a while, what do you say?”
I narrowed my eyes. I got it then. This was stage one of the plan of all men. Offer me trinkets in return for what I could offer them. A nineteen year old female body. Overweight as I couldn't exactly follow a decent diet on the streets. Pasty skin. But female.
That was enough for most of the sleazeballs out there and he was no different. Any minute now he’d tell me what he expected in return for the cellphone and I was already sitting up as he rummaged in the bottom of a filing cabinet.
Sure, he was hot and a part of me wouldn’t have minded giving him what he wanted but I wasn’t that type of girl. I had some self-respect left. I wasn’t going to sell my body for a cellphone and a night in a shelter.
He frowned. “The computer won’t let me prescribe without you being on our records,” he said. “I’ll go get you a registration form. Be right back.”
As soon as the door closed I got up and crossed to his desk, tearing the prescription from the top of the pad.
Cramming it into my jacket, I eased open the door and peered out. No one out there. I took a deep breath and then ran for the main door, coughing as I went.
“Hold on!” he shouted after me as I headed into the rain. “Wait!”
I didn’t look back. I had what I needed.
I crossed the road without looking back. The city swallowed me up. It was what it did.
I kept moving until I was sure he’d never catch up before I let my feet slow down. Coughing into my hand I ducked down an alleyway and found a sloping roof to rest under. Sinking to my knees, I waited for the dizziness to pass.
I pulled out the prescription and looked at the signature on it. David Reece. I knew that name. That was the name Mom had told me over and over again when I was growing up. He was the man who killed my father.
Chapter Two
David
I went after her when she ran but there was no sign. My tracking skills were good but she lived on the streets. She knew where to run.
It was still pouring with rain and I had a full appointment list of patients to get through. I knew I should give up and head back.
I was trying to get through as many patients as possible before heading off on vacation. I had no choice but to return to the clinic. Otherwise, I’d never get a chance to get to the cabin.
As I headed back I made a mental note to ring Sally. She ran the soup kitchen I funded and she should be able to keep an eye out. A girl like her was going to stand out if she showed up with a cough like that.
I got back to the clinic a couple of minutes later. I noticed she’d taken the prescription page with her. That would do her some good if she could get someone to take it without the confirmation code on top.
Most places would refuse but she might get lucky. That meant she’d maybe get the fever under control and the infection causing the cough. The main thing she needed wasn’t available in a pharmacy. What she needed most was rest and quiet and I could have offered her both at the cabin.
I should have known better than to offer. I wasn’t the most non-threatening of men.
I was built like a mountain and I had to work hard not to scare people. Even at the clinic new patients took one look at their doctor and tended to cower in the corner. On the plus side, they always followed my advice, terrified I might snap them in two if they refused.
What made for a good doctor did not make for a good partner though. Single life was my constant companion. It had been a long time since I’d looked at a woman and felt any kind of spark.
It wasn’t a spark when I picked her up and carried her into the clinic. It was a lightning strike. All kinds of wrong given her age but I couldn’t help how my body reacted.
A long time.
That could be the only explanation for the erection I got when she lay down on the examination bed in the clinic.
My medical training told me to examine her, mentally running through the possibilities of things that could cause her fever. But there was a deeper part of me, the unevolved caveman part, that told me to take her wet clothes off, see if her body looked as good underneath as I imagined it did.
That was why I left her alone, not to get the registration form as much as to try and give my cock time to shrink back to normal. It wasn’t exactly good to meet a scared new patient who was ill and needed help and I stood next to them with a tent in my pants.
I spent the rest of the day trying to think where I knew the girl from. Had I seen her at the soup kitchen before?
She certainly had a distinctive look.
Curly brown hair that would look much better if it wasn’t soaked by the rain or hidden under a woolly hat. Black torn jeans that revealed flashes of leg. A plain black denim jacket that looked old than her.
I felt sorry for her. She’d clearly had a hard time since she’d ended up on the streets. I hadn’t had a chance to find out where her parents were but I could guess the story from the way she talked. Deadbeats, maybe abusive.
She’d run from them hoping for a better life in the city and found it as cold and hard as they’d been. It was a story I’d heard dozens of times.
I hoped she’d survive. I could do without another death on my conscience. She reminded me of the last one. There was a hint of Todd’s face in hers. It was the wary look she gave me. He’d had that look on his face just before the bomb went off, like he knew what was going to happen.
I had a ten-minute break booked in for a quarter to five. I spent it on the phone with Sally. “David,” she said when she answered. “I’m chopping veg.”
“You’re always chopping,” I replied. “Can you talk?”
“You’re on handsfree, it’s fine.”
“What’s handsfree?”
She sighed. “Never mind, you technophobe. What can I do for you?”
“I’m looking for a girl.”
“I’m right here.”
We both laughed. “Your grandkids might not approve. And what would Michael think?”
“He’d be happy for me to have an affair with my boss, I’m sure.”
“I’ll tell him that next time I see him, shall I?”
“You’ll do no such thing. He’s still recovering from the heart bypass. Anyway, as an eighty-four year old pensioner with none of her own teeth doesn’t do it for you, what kind of girl are you after?”
“She came into the cl
inic just now. Bad cough and fever. Nineteen. Curly brown hair, deep blue eyes, curvy, about five-three, pale skin. Looks a bit like Todd.”
I heard her inhale. “Could it be Susie?”
“No. She’s called Catherine and I’m worried about her.”
“Back up. You’ve lost me.”
“This girl came in off the streets. She had a bad fever and a cough but before I could get much out of her, she ran off with the prescription page. Could you keep an eye out for her if she shows up tonight?”
“I’ll see what I can do. Aren’t you coming down yourself tonight?”
“Last night before vacation, remember. I’ve got a late surgery booked in.”
“Didn’t you hire some new guys so you could cut back?”
“They don’t start for a couple of weeks.”
She paused, the only sound that of knife thumping into chopping board. “Oh yes, I remember,” she said at last. “What do you want me to do if she turns up while you’re up at the cabin?”
“Keep hold of her and call me. She needs a lot more than just a course of antibiotics.”
“You’re sure it’s not Susie? She’s the right age. Matches the description. Could she have given you a fake name?”
“It’s possible, I guess. Look, I’ve got to go. Keep me posted, would you?”
“Sure thing, boss.”
I hung up and headed back into the examination room. Patients were already queuing. It was time to get back to work.
My cellphone rang just before eight. “I think she’s here,” Sally said when I answered. “The girl you were asking about.”
