Daddy Issues

by Wyatt, Dani

  My heart is in my throat.

  A few minutes later, she’s here, out of breath and holding on to the white waxed-paper package full of pork cutlets.

  “Hey.” She pants. “Can I put this in the fridge?”

  “Ugh. Yes, whatever, just listen.” I stomp toward the kitchen, and she follows. I grab the package from her, swing open the stainless-steel door and throw the meat inside the huge commercial refrigerator knocking over a jar of pickles inside before slamming it shut.

  “Okay, so... Jesus, a lot has happened in twenty-four hours. But what’s got your jammies in such a snit.” Heather fists her hand onto her hips. “And Jesus, speaking of jammies. What the hell are you wearing?”

  “Follow me.” I don’t bother to respond to her fashion editorial Instead I ball my fingers into fists so hard my fingernails dig into my palms.

  I take the stairs two at a time and plop down on the edge of the bed, waving a hand around to indicate the evidence strewn all over the sheets.

  I look down at the handwritten note that turns my stomach.

  “xoxoxo, Big boy. Miss me. See you soon.”

  Heather’s hand comes out to finger the roll of condom packages, then she lifts up a few of the pictures before placing them back on the bed.

  “It’s why he comes into town then he’s gone for a week or more, then back. I think he’s married. Or a girlfriend or something.” Tears flood my cheeks. I hate the evidence in front of me, can’t believe everything I felt from Rueger is a lie, but here it is.

  After he left, I got nosy. That little voice inside my head poking at me. Telling me this is all too good to be true. So I went to Rueger’s office. Then around the house. It’s tastefully decorated but lacking in a homey feel. Nothing is out of place.

  When I came back to the bedroom, I fought the urge, but I finally gave in, pulling open his dresser drawers and searching for something that stupid voice somehow knew I would find.

  “Shit.” Heather holds up one of the pile of pictures of Rueger and the brunette, toasting with champagne. He’s wearing a tux, and she’s wearing what I would describe as a late-in-life-second-or-third-marriage wedding dress. Lace, but sleek. Fitted down over her hips. Low-cut in front with a pearl choker around her perfect, long neck. Rueger is smiling, his arms draped around her shoulder as her head leans into his chest.

  I hate it. More than I hate Brussels sprouts.

  A billion times more.

  “I’m leaving.” I jump up and stomp to the closet, tearing off the nightgown Daddy told me to wear. He even had me send a picture to him as he boarded the plane, showing him how I looked. Well, I’m not his plaything, a doll to dress up and use while he’s bored. “Right now. Heather. I’m leaving right now.” I shout to my wide-eyed friend sitting on the bed.

  I’m jerking and tugging myself into the dirty white skirt and the Daddy’s Girl T-shirt I wore yesterday. It seems so long ago I fell out of the car and started this cascade of events. So much has happened. Time truly does bend and stretch because we’ve fit so much into such a short time.

  “God dammit.” My arm gets stuck trying to shove it through the sleeve on the t-shirt and I nearly tear the fabric forcing it to yield.

  I don’t want to wear this either, but I don’t want to take anything from Rueger.

  Cheating jerk.

  “Lexi, wait.” She puts a hand on my arm, and I can see the concern in her eyes. But I just want to be out of here. “I mean, I get that this all looks suspicious. God, it looks damning. But you also said you Googled him. It didn’t say he was married, did it?” Heather twists her face and flops across the bed on her stomach. “Google knows that shit.”

  “He told me he wasn’t married. I don’t care. Men lie about that stuff all the time.” I blink away tears, not willing to let them flow for him. “And I didn’t do some public records search on him. I just looked him up and his company. At the time, I wasn’t thinking I was anything more than a hard case to fluff his PR image. I’m an idiot for thinking I’m anything more than some kinky fantasy he can’t get his wife to fulfill. Come on, let’s go. I’m done.”

  I throw the iPhone across the room and lift the strap of my messenger bag over my shoulder, centering it across my chest.

  Heather huffs but gets herself up and off the bed.

  “Why’d you call me all the way over here if we were just going to leave again?”

  “I needed you to see. I needed someone else to witness this...mess. Just come on.” Tears sting in my eyes, but I don’t want to show her. I’m sick of being weak and vulnerable. A man like Rueger could smell that on me. I was an easy mark for his little game. “Stupid sloth Band-Aids.” I reach down and rip the plastic strip off my skinned knee, leaving it on the floor as we leave the bedroom. “Get your dumb meat out of the fridge, and let’s go.”

  “Okay, okay, we’re going.” Heather stomps behind me down the stairs and into the kitchen.

  I’m already out on the porch waiting when she comes back out with the white waxed-paper package under her arm.

  “HOW AM I GOING TO GO back to work?” I mutter to myself as I start up the four flights of stairs to our apartment. Heather is dealing with her bike. She told me to go on up.

  Something makes me turn around as I hit the fifth step. At first, I don’t know what it is that’s got me spooked, but then I spot him, Ricky, standing just outside the door to the street, taking a picture of me.

  “Stop being such a creep!” I shout. He’s always been a little stalkerish, showing up at odd times, watching me, or just sort of being more attentive than a neighbor should be. But this is the first time I’ve ever noticed him taking pictures. My anger is already boiling, and this sets it off on a new level. I force myself to walk up the rest of the steps and manage to get myself into our apartment before bursting into tears.

  An hour later, I’m still sobbing when Heather holds the first spoonful of Ben & Jerry’s vegan peanut-butter-chunk ice cream to my snot-covered lips.

  “Jesus. You are a mess.” She shakes her head as I reluctantly take the creamy goodness into my mouth. “I hate seeing you like this.”

  A few bites later, I’m ready to form words again, even though my heart is in sharp, jagged pieces inside my chest.

  “What is it with my life? Stupid Ricky taking pictures of me now? Did you know about that?” The words come out thick and slow, my tongue frozen by the ice cream.

  “No. Really?” Heather looks toward the window, then down at the ice cream before taking a small scoopful for herself. Her eyebrows draw tight, and she swallows before continuing. “I just saw him across the street in the window of another apartment. He had the window open and a fucking camera with this crazy lens on it. What the hell? I didn’t put it together, but that window looks right in here.” Her voice turns hard.

  Heather bounces up off the bed and practically runs to the window.

  “Little motherfucker! He’s coming in the front door now. That’s enough of this shit. Creepy, I can handle. Hell, I can even give it a little respect, but he’s crossed the line.”

  A knock pounds on the door.

  “No, don’t.” I’m up and behind her as she makes it to the front door of our apartment, swinging the door open, ready to go postal on Ricky. “Holy shit.”

  I drop the pint of ice cream, and Heather freezes in mid-attack.

  Rueger is standing there, looking perfect in a black suit. His crisp white shirt contrasts with the orange and red striped tie.

  No one else could wear that tie and look so amazing.

  Only my Daddy.

  I shake that thought from my head, remembering the pictures and the prophylactics.

  “What are you doing here?” I put on my best effort at indignation, but on the inside, I’m melting. “I don’t want to see you.”

  He ignores my protests. “You know what I want.” His smooth, deep voice only makes it harder to do the unthinkable and tell him to go away. I know his secret, I remind myself.

&n
bsp; “I thought you were on a plane to deal with business. Maybe some family business? Maybe two kids, a wife, and a picket fence sort of business?” The battiness in my voice makes him narrow his eyes.

  “Don’t you think I know you left the house?” Rueger raises his chin, and the look in his eyes flips my stomach. “Jesus, Lex, I’ve had people following you for two months. You don’t think now I wouldn’t still be keeping track of you? I almost got arrested trying to get off the fucking plane before we took off. The alarm system on the house and the security camera showed you leaving. It alerted on my phone, thank God, before I had to shut it off. I wasn’t going anywhere knowing you weren’t safe.”

  Rueger nods toward Heather, then addresses her with a polite smile, his tone commanding. “Excuse me.” He steps around her and into the apartment.

  “Get out! This isn’t your place to just come—”

  Ricky is there in the doorway, and Heather goes pit-bull on him. “Get the fuck out of here, you freak! Taking pictures? I ought to call the fucking cops. Get out! I’ll do it! I’ll call the cops if you come near her again!”

  My head swivels from Rueger, who is advancing toward me, and Ricky, who is standing in the doorway with his hands up in surrender. He looks different. He’s looking at Rueger then at me, then back to Rueger.

  “It’s okay.” Rueger turns to Heather. “He works for me. As soon as the house alarm alerted me, I had him following you. To take a picture and send it to me to assure me you were okay.”

  “I don’t fucking care! In fact, no, I do care. That makes it a hundred times worse. Get out!”

  “The butcher shop is just a cover!”

  Heather stops, glances over at me, and I can’t move. She looks back at Ricky, who takes a deep breath, then raises his shoulders in a shrug.

  “A hobby.” Ricky’s voice is different. Calm, professional. He looks over at Rueger. “Please tell them.”

  “Okay, what the fuck is going on?” Heather latches her fists to her hips and stares down Rueger with fire and ice.

  My ears are ringing, and it’s hard to stand. The room starts to spin, and just as I begin to sway, Rueger’s arms are around me.

  “Baby, come here. Sit. Why did you leave?” He walks me toward the little café table we picked up at a yard sale and gently lowers me into the chair.

  Heather moves to lean against the kitchen counter, still giving Ricky the stink-eye as he steps just inside the door, squaring off his shoulders and crossing his arms over his chest.

  “I found the pictures. The condoms,” I hiss. “And I’ve seen your picture with her on Google, too. At company functions and parties. You’re married, aren’t you? Just tell me the truth. That’s why you only come to town for a couple days, then you’re gone for weeks.” I confront him with what I know must be the truth, but I hope like a sinner at church that somehow, I’m wrong.

  “Cheater,” Heather snaps, and Rueger turns to smile at her.

  Ricky chuckles under his breath.

  “You shut up, too, stalker,” Heather adds. “Somebody better start talking because I have eight dollars’ worth of ice cream melting.”

  Rueger runs a hand down my cheek and I fight the urge to pull away, but somehow, it just still feels so right. I hate myself for being so weak. I want him so much. I want us. I want my Daddy. But I know that if I can’t have him all to myself, then I can never have him.

  “Babygirl. I would never hurt you. Not in a thousand lifetimes.” Rueger steps to pull up the other chair and sit right in front of me. His hands move to rest, warm and heavy, on my knees. His eyes dig into my soul as I try to look away. Try and fail. He has me captivated.

  “Who is she?”

  “His sister,” Ricky adds.

  “I’ve got this.” Rueger looks over his shoulder, and Ricky raises his hands again and moves back to lean into the doorway. “He’s right. She is my sister. My twin sister, to be precise. My twin sister that I only knew about six months ago. Remember I told you I found my sister?”

  My head is swimming as Rueger’s thumbs start to lightly rub back and forth on the inside of my knees.

  He continues as my heart thunders in my chest. The blood rushing in my ears barely allows me to hear what he is saying. “Ricky found her, actually. He’s been part of my security team for over ten years. I found out I had a sister when I searched for my birth mother. It took five years to find her, and when I did, she told me I had a sister. Another two years later, I found Rita. And yes, she comes to functions with me. No one knows who she is, and we don’t tell anyone.”

  “Your...sister?” I shake my head. “That doesn’t make any sense. Why the pack of pictures? Why the condoms? The note.”

  “Yeah.” Heather tosses in her own challenge.

  Rueger takes a breath, licks his bottom lip, then answers. “I’ve never had a relationship. Not a real one, anyway. And Rita and I, well, from the first time we met, we had this uncanny connection. Best friends immediately. Like we’d known each other all our lives. And well, she thinks it’s funny that I’m practically a monk. She also thinks she’s funny. And sometimes, she is.” He clears his throat, and I watch his Adam’s apple shift under the dark scruff of his stubble. “She stuffed that envelope in my suitcase when I told her I was moving to Portland last week. Told me to get the pictures framed so my place didn’t look like a showroom and to try to have some fun for once.”

  “But...” I’m running out of excuses. I can feel myself softening. “But...why do you leave all the time?” I don’t fight when his hands leave my knees and come to take mine from where they are locked together in my lap. “And, wait, why are you back now?”

  “Ricky called me the minute he saw you leave my place. Then I had him follow you, of course. He’s lived here, keeping an eye on you for me. Until I could finish up a huge transition back in New York. After this trip today, I was going to be done. I’m turning my business over to my partner, 100 percent. Then I’ll be here. With you. I had to make one more trip, just one, like I told you, because it was already scheduled. Lawyers, the board, they were all there. But when Ricky said you left the house, I turned around and came right back. I knew something had to be wrong, because you wouldn’t break the rules otherwise, would you, Babygirl?”

  I bite my lip and try to let all that is happening soak in.

  But then Rueger gives me that look, and I’m a puddle.

  He leans in, his breath on my cheek, then asks so no one else can hear, “You are Daddy’s girl still, aren’t you?”

  I kiss his cheek and answer back into his ear. “Yes, Daddy. Always and forever your girl. I’m sorry.”

  “Good girl. Daddy loves you so much,” he answers, and my belly does a thousand flips. “Now, I’m going to take you home and show you just what that means.”

  Epilogue

  RUEGER

  “DAMN.” I THROW MY HEAD back as my hands tighten on the sides of her head, driving my cock deeper into her throat, feeling the impending explosion tightening my ball sac into my body. “Your mouth belongs in the fucking Smithsonian, princess. You make Daddy so proud.”

  I lower my gaze because watching her is equal to or better than the physical sensations of everything her magical mouth bestows upon me. Tears are streaming down her cheeks with the effort. She doesn’t even fight for air, giving that up in order to please me, which is a gift unlike anything I ever could have imagined.

  Her gaze fixes on mine, the flickering behind her brown eyes telling me exactly what she’s thinking.

  “Love me, Daddy. Approve of me. Tell me I’m a good girl.”

  Her throat opens as I intensify my thrusts, driving beyond her tonsils and basking in the way her throat tightens around the head of my dick. She drops one hand from the spit-slick base of my cock, her fingertips leaving a trail of erotic thunder as she lightly traces them down the inside of my leg until they rest for a moment on her knee.

  Again, those eyes. Jesus, her eyes talk to me, and I give her the slightest of n
ods. This will be my undoing; it is every time.

  “Good girl.” I moan as her fingers disappear between her legs, her mouth sucking harder and with more devotion that I thought possible.

  I watch with the fury of a man on fire as her hand strokes her sex, her mouth moving in time with her own self-giving pleasure, and when I see the far-off look in her eyes, I’m done.

  “Come with Daddy, princess. Come with me now.”

  That’s all it takes. We both shudder, and my cum sprays out of my dick into her throat with a force that has my hamstrings cramping. My balls twitch and pulse.

  I hold on to her head, not just to keep myself rooted deep in her mouth as I go off; it’s to keep me from toppling over onto her from the ecstasy of my release. My entire body shakes, and I grunt and moan, filling the bedroom with my pleasured fury.

  Her own muffled sounds of climax vibrate around the head of my cock lodged in her mouth. She takes it all, swallowing desperately, knowing how much I dislike when any of my gift to her drips out from around those pouty, stunning lips.

  “You are Daddy’s best girl.” I loosen my grip on her head and slide out a bit to allow her a breath. Her lips spread slightly, and I feel the air move from her desperate inhale over my wet, slick shaft as she draws in life-giving oxygen. “Did you come hard for Daddy?”

  She nods as she licks and cleans my cock as she should. After a few moments of her service, I withdraw, reaching down to where her hands raise for me to allow her to stand.

  “Yummy Daddy.” She licks her lips and twists back and forth on tiptoes before I draw her into my chest, both of us breathing fast. Our meeting flesh is warm and slightly damp from our effort.

  “Yes, Daddy’s cum is only for his princess. And you always need to tell me how thankful you are I allow you to swallow it. How much you enjoy my taste.”

  “Yes, Daddy. Thank you,” she whispers into my chest as I stroke her hair. She’s growing it out a bit; the rainbow tips on the ends have turned into long stripes of purple and pink. I wrap one tendril around my finger as we bask in the glow of our moment.