Sugar Daddies

by Celia Crown

  “Not now,” he snarls.

  I look down on the floor, disappointment reeling in my head as I clench his tie behind me. I hope the fabric wrinkles or rip from my nails; this way, he can stay a bit longer to find a different tie.

  “You promised,” I bring up the issue quietly, but he ignores that.

  He’s been ignoring a lot of my words lately, and it hurts to know that my voice doesn’t matter to him. Daddy has always been someone who makes up his own mind without bringing other people in his plans.

  “You’re being a brat, and I do not have the time to deal with you,” he sighs with a tone that tells me he’s tired while he pinches his nose bridge.

  I watch as his eyes close, and that’s when I know I messed up.

  Daddy feeds me, pays for everything, and lets me sleep on his bed with a roof over me. He helps me in many ways, and I have been on my best behavior; I’m always a good girl for him and to be a brat now is the worst timing.

  He must be so stressed at work, and I’m not helping by demanding his attention at home. He should be relaxing while I sit on his lap meekly. Daddy needs a little girl; he doesn’t need more problems when he’s got enough of those at the company.

  “Pepper—”

  I don’t want to hear my name from his lips. It’s going to ruin me, and I won’t be his little girl anymore. My heart can’t handle being a big girl when I know for a fact that there are women out there who can be a better little girl to Daddy than I could ever dream of.

  They can give him things that I can’t, and some have been a professional little girl for years. They have the experience that I don’t have, and they would satisfy him in ways that’ll blow my mind.

  “Here,” I thrust the clenched tie to his chest and drop it on his open hand, “I’m sorry for being a brat, Daddy.”

  “Pepper—” Daddy tries again, and my ears block his voice out.

  The pounding of blood in my ears is simply too loud, and the navy dress shirt that spans across his chest is too blue; everything is overwhelmingly nauseating.

  Is this why Daddy brought in Mr. Stephan?

  Is it because he’s trying to be nice and let me down easy? Is this his way of telling me that he doesn’t want to be my Daddy anymore and that Mr. Stephan is going to take over?

  Daddy’s big hand nudges my head up from the ground. It’s a touch of tenderness and patience. It’s a complete opposite of his voice.

  I deserved to be scowled at; I brought it upon myself for being clingy.

  “What’s going on?” He lowers his volume down to a whisper as he caresses my cheek.

  Leaning into his palm, I keep my mouth shut to stop being dramatic and making the situation worse. I can’t help that I just woke up clingy and the fact that we were supposed to spend time together today made up my expectations higher, but he has to work, so it’s about time that I compromise.

  I had last night with him; it makes it a little better.

  “Are you feeling needy?”

  My big eyes water with the bottom of my lip trembling to hold back the frustrated tears. Without Daddy’s discipline, I would be a crybaby even to this day, and I’d die of humiliation for being so weak.

  I’m still weak, and it’s a miracle that Daddy puts up with me.

  “I want Daddy,” I whimper as I push my face to his chest. The steady heartbeat rocks against the side of my forehead.

  “I know you do,” he murmurs on the top of my head as he strokes my hair from the back. “I am going to take care of this business as fast as I can, and when I come back, we’ll spend time together.”

  My throat drags out a noise.

  “Daddy has never lied to you before,” he comments.

  “You did. You said you’d spend time with me today and you lied.” I thump my forehead on the hard surface of his chest, and I ultimately hurt my own forehead because his chest was just that hard.

  What does this man do in his workout that turned his body into steel?

  “No,” Daddy corrects with a small kiss on my hair, “I said I would spend time with you today. I never specified when.”

  “Daddy!” I grumpily throw my arms around his waist.

  He reaches down and pats my butt softly. The flesh jiggles as I huff grouchily in his shirt and I hope he can feel my dismay in that breath. Daddy isn’t supposed to be mean this early in the morning. He has to give me some time to adjust to being awake to be used to the usual grumpiness of him.

  “You are my good girl, aren’t you?”

  Daddy is playing with my heart, and the curl of my toes into the wooden flooring reminds me that I have to keep up the charade. I remember that I have to be mad at him for breaking his promise. It’s still unclear as to where he broke it, but in my head, he did it, and I’m punishing him for being a bad man.

  “You’ve been so good lately, little girl,” he praises, and he’s got me wrapped around his fingers.

  He knows what to say to get me putty in his hands, and I’m a sore loser that falls for it every time. At least he’s paying attention to me; it’s sad that I have to turn to being a brat to get his eyes on me.

  “Daddy wants to reward you for being good,” he purrs softly.

  I look up and stand on my toes to peck his lips. I give him more chaste kisses and finish with one long kiss that rushes blood to my lips.

  “It’s okay, Daddy. I was bratty.”

  “You admit your faults,” Daddy nods approvingly.

  Even though it’s kind of negative, I can’t help but feel my chest puff up at the proudness in his eyes. It’s kind of odd to feel pleased about something that isn’t essentially good in different aspects, but anything is better than lying.

  “Put this back on,” he holds up the tie, and the wash of memories come back to why we were in this complex position.

  Tying a tie is easy. I have been helping and learning from Daddy on how to do it. I take the silk fabric to loop it around his neck, tucking it here and there while smoothing down the creases that I made.

  I silent beam an apology to the tie in my head and hope it forgives me for treating it roughly. Fine materials should be treated with priority care, and I am a Neanderthal for wanting to rip it apart.

  I run a hand down the tie, and the ridges of Daddy’s muscles can be felt through my hand. I finger the triangle tip with my fingers as I’m not ready to let it go.

  If I let the tie go, then it feels like a final goodbye to Daddy, and he’s going to leave until who knows how long. He is the boss of the company, so his schedule is not a regular nine-to-five job; he has to oversee many things and work overtime if needed.

  Sometimes I hate that he’s the boss.

  “Are you going to let go?” Daddy asks.

  I pinch the triangle with a frown; he can easily step away and tear the tie from me., He’s three times stronger than me, and he is more than capable of smacking my hand away.

  “Can I have one more kiss?” I ask with innocent eyes.

  There is an underlying reason as to why I’m needy today, but my menstrual cycle isn’t due yet, so it must be the chocolate I ate yesterday. The effect of chocolate at nighttime triggers a systematic domino effect that leaves me emotional for reasons that escape me.

  Daddy says I have a weird body.

  He should never say that to a girl. It’s not nice to call a body weird under any circumstances, and he got my cold shoulders for that. It lasted a good five minutes before I went crawling back to him and beg for him to pat me.

  I never said I had any dignity.

  That was long gone by the time Daddy took me in as his little girl.

  Daddy smooches my lips, and he goes beyond what I ask of him. His scratchy scruffs drag across my cheek as he presses his lip there. A giggle spreads my lips with a smile as he nuzzles my face. It tickles as the hair pokes my plump cheek.

  “Stop it, Daddy, it tickles!” I squirm in his arms as he cages me to his body. His warmth radiates off his large frame, and my nipples harden und
er the nightshirt that I stole from his closet.

  He has millions of the same white button-up shirt. He’s not going to miss this one with the wrinkles and creases on it.

  “Stephan’s going to be home, and he wants to take you somewhere,” Daddy murmurs against my cheek, and I stop squirming to blink in confusion.

  “Mr. Stephan?” I jerk my head back and cock it to the side.

  He scolds, “He’s also Daddy to you.”

  I swallow the hiccup and nod obediently. We didn’t discuss the elephant in the room so I didn’t know what I should be addressing Mr. Stephan as since Daddy is Daddy and Mr. Stephan is not my Daddy.

  Apparently, I’m wrong, and Daddy doesn’t mind me calling his friend that.

  Would it get confusing if I were to call for one and the other one answers?

  “Don’t overthink this, little girl. You’re still mine, and don’t you ever forget that.”

  I nod vigorously. If he says it’s okay for me to call Mr. Stephan that, then I don’t have to worry about him being offended if I don’t.

  “I will see you tonight.” Daddy brushes my hair away and kisses me goodbye on the lips.

  I reluctantly let him go and watch as he turns his head back to me from the door. The sternness in his eyes sends a message that I will behave because he always has a tab on me.

  Waving him goodbye as he shuts the door, I’m left wondering why I was even angry in the first place, and I can’t remember the flare of frustration that got etched onto my skin like a flame licking the tender spots.

  I shake my head from my thoughts. I have to get ready because Daddy said Mr. Stephan wants to take me somewhere, and I have no idea where so I choose what I always wear at home.

  I wear a yellow sundress with my hair down. My neck is too exposed if I put them up and I’ll be shivering all day long. One hairstyle can change how my body adjusts to the temperature. It’s an odd thing, but I have learned to work with it.

  Every pair of shoes is by the organizer at the front door where it is normal for people to put on house slippers when they come inside. I always forget so I would run around with bare feet, and Daddy made the cleaner clean the floor every day so my feet won’t be dirty or I don’t step on a splinter.

  Glass is a rare thing to be stepped on. I would notice if I broke a glass and I would clean it the best I can. There is this amazing machine that just eats up everything on the ground, and it will suck up my headphones if I dropped them on the ground in front of the machine.

  This mansion has weird gadgets that make life so much more convenient, but it also creeps me out at how smart they are. I have this irrational fear that artificial intelligence is going to turn on by itself one day, and I would be fighting against a vacuum and a coffee machine.

  Daddy called me stupid for that, and I gave him the biggest pout because he didn’t take my fear seriously. It’s a legitimate worry that needs to be acknowledged, and he was so merciless when he made fun of me.

  I humph at the memories and dart out the bedroom door with my dress flopping around my thighs. A part of me wonders if I should play it safe and wear something underneath, so I don’t accidentally flash someone.

  As I come around the corner to the kitchen, Mr. Stephan is already there.

  He’s shirtless! He’s holding a glass of water.

  Millions of questions flash in my head, and my face can’t handle the heat, so I clasp my fingers over my eyes to stop the tempting trail of his gorgeous body and intricate tattoos.

  I only got one look, and it’s burned in my mind; the thickness of his muscles packed on his tall frame, the ink coiling around his body like a snake and the rock-hard abs rippling when he drank the glass of water.

  His throat was sexily bobbing when he gulped the water, and I will never forget that my drool fell the moment a drop of water kisses his strong body.

  I am a pervert. Thank goodness he didn’t catch me ogling his body, but he can’t fault me for being so taken by the unattainable sexiness of it.

  A sharp clink on the counter gets picked up by my ears, but they’re thumping with blood to keep the tips red.

  “Good morning, little princess,” Mr. Stephan’s voice calls.

  I tremble lightly at the curl of possessiveness that prickles my skin, “Good morning.”

  He comes up to me, still shirtless and distracting, and kiss me on the lips. I freeze as I don’t know what to do and how did this relationship proceeded from meeting him to him kissing me good morning.

  I should keep calling him Mr. Stephan, or I’m going to confuse myself. He and Daddy are two very different people who shockingly radiate the same influence and power over me.

  “I missed you,” he hums faintly while pecking my temple.

  It’s only been a couple of hours since I last saw him, and I remember yesterday as clearly as today, and my cheeks are flushed from thinking about it.

  I voice my thoughts, “It’s not been a full day yet.”

  “It’s been too long since I have touched you,” he hugs me to his chest.

  My body yields to his frame, and I’m engulfed with his deep scent as my face is engulfed in his chest. Without any barrier, I can hear the sturdy beat of his heart and the rhythm of his breathing.

  “You can’t say things like that,” I step back as much as his arms allow me. I cup my own cheeks and feel the heat steaming from my skin.

  “Say what? That I want to hold you as I sleep? It’s the truth. I want to go to sleep with you and be the first thing you see when you wake up.” Mr. Stephan crushes my wrist in his hand as he pulls it up to his mouth. His sharp teeth scrape on my pulse, and it jumps at the contact.

  “Daddy is going to be mad. I’m not supposed to—”

  He puts a finger to my lips, and it effectively cuts my voice off. The smile on his face makes my blood run cold as the devil behind his disguise of angel peers through.

  “Max and I will discuss it with you on a later date,” his eyes curves, “You’re going to be a good little princess for Daddy, and I won’t send you to the corner if you misbehave.”

  Daddy likes to spank me when I’m stubborn, and Mr. Stephan’s form of punishment gets me curious.

  “Corner?” I’m afraid to ask, but it comes out anyway.

  My fear is evident as it fuels the madness gleaming in his eyes.

  “Yes, corner. Facing the wall with no electronics and no talking, you will stand there for however long I see fit.”

  That sounds like torture, and I will be on my best behavior. If he’s anything like Daddy, he wants me to mess up just so he can punish me.

  These are dangerous men that have set their gaze on me.

  “Do you understand?”

  I swallow thickly as I nod, “Understood, Daddy.”

  He kisses my hair, “Good, I wouldn’t want that to ruin our date.”

  How can a girl not blush when a man with God-like features says that we’re going on a date and his tone says I have no opinion on it?

  Not that I would decline anyway.

  Chapter Six

  Pepper

  Mr. Stephan stands out like a sore thumb in a place that is a live-action fairy tale.

  It’s not his clothes that stand out; he has a simple grey cotton shirt and black pants on. His boots are not the standard tennis shoes that everyone is wearing, but it’s not those fancy, expensive leather shoes that go with his equally luxurious suits.

  It’s his intimidatingly tall height and the massiveness of his frame that towers over everyone in the theme park.

  From the perspective of other people who have mickey mouse ears on their head and colorful clothes, he is a behemoth stomping around and scaring children with his mysterious eyes.

  People might think I’m being held hostage because the grip on my hand is tight and somewhat suffocating. I fear that he’ll feel how sweaty it is and be disgusted. I’m kind of revolted at the clamminess in my fingers as I try not to hold his hand too tight.

  Another
thing that makes him stand out is that he doesn’t look like the type to step foot in Disney World of all places. He still remains this polished man without his suit.

  I applaud him for holding his appearance up to the standards of women around us; they’re eyeing him like hawks, and they’re waiting for the right moment to swoop in to sink their claws into his delicious muscles.

  I can’t blame them for trying because I would do the same thing if I’m not already his center of attention.

  Is it sick of me to feel a certain haughtiness for having him to myself while women are seething in envy and jealousy?

  I am a woman with a dull sixth sense and feeling the intense gazes from everyone doesn’t take much effort to understand why they are trying to crack my skull with their glares.

  As I pull Mr. Stephan towards another stand that sells giant turkey legs, my heart skips from the previous experience that I had. The roller coaster ride was insane, and I didn’t know that I could literally feel my heart on my tongue when the cart tipped forward, and then it was the best feeling when adrenaline kicks up at the drop.

  I have VIP pass around my wrist, so I don’t have to wait for the long lines and sweaty people and I had to thank Mr. Stephan for being generous. He paid for everything; the entrance tickets, the food in my tummy, and the special treatment from the theme park.

  When I mentally add up the price, it exceeds what normal people make in one day of work and Mr. Stephan doesn’t blink an eye when he swipes his sleek black credit card down.

  If I remember correctly from a television advertisement, black cards mean that they are high prestige, hyper-exclusive that are reserved for those who either are filthy rich or those who have the best credit scores.

  Somehow, I think Mr. Stephan has both. It shouldn’t surprise me since his gold watch has a ninety-nine percent of being real gold, but I didn’t have the courage to ask him.

  I put down my order, and Mr. Stephan is already paying by shoving the credit card into the machine. The vendor wraps a jumbo turkey leg in a wrap, so my hands don’t get greasy or sticky.