Her Hollywood Daddy

by Renee Rose

  Allie scooped the freshly ground coffee into the espresso machine and poured a cup of water in, then walked to the fridge and pulled out the milk and a carton of blueberries. She opened the blueberries and scooped a handful, popping them into her mouth. No spoon, no bowl. Her germs all over their blueberries.

  The espresso machine began to hiss and Allie filled the frothing cup and started steaming her milk.

  Okay, this was just getting ridiculous. Apparently her cup of coffee would have to wait until Allie had taken care of her hypoglycemic needs.

  “I’m going to get dressed,” she muttered, stalking to the bedroom. With any luck, the ex would be gone by the time she returned. Except she couldn’t stay away. She threw on some clothes and came back out, drawn like a magnet to metal.

  Allie was sorting through a stack of mail.

  Seeing the physical evidence of her marriage to Joel—even if it was just mail being sent to his address—stabbed Marissa in the heart.

  “So how’s the filming coming? I heard things had been slow since you’ve been back from New Mexico.”

  Her breath stopped and a knot formed in her belly. What the hell had he told her? Something about her? About how she’d fucked up? She managed a one-shoulder shrug as an answer.

  “When is the release date, do you know?”

  “June fourth.”

  “Oh, right. I knew that. Well, I’ll have to come to the opening. I already bought my dress for the big opening of Joel’s movie Cerebral next week.”

  She felt like she’d been punched in the gut. He was taking his ex-wife as his date to the opening of one of his movies? What the hell?

  She’d been foolish to even pretend she had a relationship with him. She hardly knew the guy. He had an ex-wife, with years and years of history, a woman he was obviously on friendly enough terms with to let her keep a key to his house and drop in unannounced at any time of day.

  Why the hell would she imagine, even for a second, she had any place in his life? They had an arrangement until the filming was over. Nothing more. And the sooner she got that through her pining heart, the better.

  *****

  Joel carried all the grocery bags into the house in one trip. He’d stopped to buy steak and staple items, planning to make a nice dinner for Marissa that night. He wanted to reward her for her submission the night before.

  Just thinking about the way she’d looked on her knees at his feet had him hard again. He opened the door from the garage and headed in.

  Marissa sat at the kitchen table, the earbuds to her mp3 player in her ears. She was bent over the script, which was odd, since she knew it inside and out by now.

  “Hey sweetheart,” he called out.

  She looked up, her face devoid of any expression.

  A spike of concern shot through him. Something was off.

  He set the grocery bags down and walked over to drop a kiss on the top of her head. “What’s up? How was your morning?”

  She pulled the earbuds out of her ears and stood up, nodding. “Yeah. Good. I’m going to go for a walk on the beach now. I’ll see you in a little bit, okay?”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hang on just a minute.” He bit off the “little girl” he almost tacked onto the end. Some instinct told him this wasn’t the moment to bring out the dominance. Still, he couldn’t help his take charge personality. “I’ll go with you,” he said. “I just need to put the groceries away.”

  “No, that’s okay. I kinda feel like being alone.” She pushed past him.

  “Marissa—” He caught her around the waist but she pried his hand away and stepped back.

  “I just need some space right now, okay?”

  A blast of cold went through his limbs. “Yeah, okay. We’ll talk when you get back,” he said.

  She left without answering.

  He stood frozen for a moment, digesting the scene. What had happened to make Marissa shut down? Something with her mom or sister? Maybe they had shamed her for the deal she’d made with him. He grimaced, hating that he might have made a whore out of her in some people’s eyes. He rubbed his chest, which suddenly ached, and not from his workout. Whatever had happened, he wanted to fix it. But he had no clues to help him decode Marissa when she had her walls up.

  He put the groceries away, all the joy he’d imagined in cooking for her gone. He paced through the house, looking for clues. He even crossed the line and violated Marissa’s privacy by checking her cell phone, but she hadn’t received or made any calls or texts that day.

  He settled in the living room, opening the drapes to look out at the ocean. How long would she be gone? What if she didn’t come back? His heart constricted. No, she had to come back, she’d left her purse here. But what if she packed her things and walked out?

  He stood up and began to pace again. An hour and a half passed before he saw Marissa walking up the beach toward the house. Relief rushed through him. He started to head out to meet her, but held himself back. She’d asked for space, he needed to give it to her. His domineering personality would only smother her if she was feeling skittish about their arrangement.

  His cell phone rang and he pulled it out of his pocket. Damn. His ex-wife.

  He answered it, his eyes following Marissa’s path to the back door. “Hey, Allie. What’s up?”

  “So, Marissa Sparks, huh?”

  He sighed and rubbed his forehead. He had no idea how she’d heard when it hadn’t even hit the tabloids yet, but it wasn’t really her business.

  “Was she mad about me stopping by?”

  He went still. Downstairs, he heard the back door open and close. “Yeah,” he said. “You could say that.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t know she’d be running around naked. I didn’t mean to startle her.”

  Marissa’s head appeared as she came up the steps, and she looked in his direction, but didn’t quite make eye contact. She walked past without saying anything.

  Irritation with Allie flared. “Look,” he said, “you can’t just stop by here. This isn’t your house anymore.”

  Marissa’s steps faltered and she stopped, looking over her shoulder uncertainly.

  He gave her a grim look.

  “Well, I was just picking up my mail. And I had an appointment on your side of town, so I stopped in to make myself some coffee and have a bite to eat before I went.”

  “Next time stop at Starbucks, instead. I’ve moved on, Allie. And you should, too. Popping in at my house uninvited and unannounced is bad form.”

  Allie was silent and he cursed inwardly. Despite the fact that she’d cheated on him, he still cared about her. He didn’t love her, he didn’t want to be with her, but he also didn’t want to hurt her feelings. He ran a hand through his hair. He sighed. “It’s time, Allie. I need you to respect my boundaries. We’re not married.”

  “But we’re friends.”

  “Yeah, but friends don’t get in the way of each other’s love lives.”

  Marissa drifted back toward the door to the kitchen, standing just outside it, looking in.

  He met her eye. “Listen, I gotta go. No more unexpected visits.”

  Allie spluttered. “I can’t believe this—”

  “I mean it,” he said, his voice firming into a dominant tone.

  “Fine,” she snapped and ended the call.

  He tossed the phone on the counter. “Come over here, right now,” he said pointing to the floor in front of his feet.

  Her eyes widened in surprise at his stern tone and she complied, scurrying over.

  “Don’t you ever walk away again without telling me why you’re mad at me,” he said.

  *****

  She opened and closed her mouth, stunned at the reprimand. His mouth was set in a firm line, his jaw muscles visibly tightening. The authority he projected made her knees wobble and all her own anger evaporate. She didn’t like being the subject of his anger.

  He picked up her wrist and spun her around pinning it behind her back. Pushing her torso down
on the counter, he said, “Pull them down.”

  She didn’t ask for clarification; she had no doubt what he meant, even if she didn’t understand why she was being punished. Her fingers fumbled at the button and zipper and she slid her shorts and panties down to her thighs.

  His belt buckle jingled behind her, followed by the whoosh of the leather sliding through the loops. She shivered.

  He didn’t say a word, he just began whipping her with the leather.

  She flinched, lurching against the counter to get away, her legs trembling.

  He laid down line after line, traveling down her bottom and back up again, the slap of leather against skin making a loud whap. She cried out with each stroke, her bottom clenching and her hips dodging from side to side.

  “Marissa, my job is to take care of you. And I can’t do that if you put up walls and keep me out. If you’re upset or mad or scared, I need to know about it so I can fix it.” His calm rational words didn’t mesh with the excruciating whipping he was laying down.

  Despite the pain, heat had flooded her core, spreading the petals of her sex, her body ready to be taken by him. Even the pain began to feel good, as if he somehow was converting her emotional angst into the thin stripes on her ass, freeing her with each wicked stroke.

  At last he stopped, and she panted, her knees buckling.

  To her disappointment, he pulled up her panties, then her shorts, reaching around the front to zip and button them. Like a daddy would. He turned her around, picked her up, and set her on counter. His expression was no longer hard, the lines had softened and his gaze looked tender, and concerned.

  Cupping her face, he leaned his forehead against hers. “I’m sorry.”

  A sound bubbled out of her—half laughter, half scoff. “Is that how you show you’re sorry?”

  The corner of his mouth tugged up in his famous lop-sided grin. “Sometimes.” He stroked her face. “I’m really sorry. You shouldn’t have had to deal with a surprise drop-in from my ex-wife. And if you would’ve just talked to me about why you were upset, I would’ve told you that things are over with Allie. Forever. Our divorce is final and I’m never taking her back. We may be amicable, but that doesn’t mean there’s any chance of a reconciliation.”

  Her lips trembled. She could think of no words to say. Joel had made things right again for her, as usual.

  He pulled her hips toward him, wrapping her legs around his waist and picking her up to carry into the bedroom. He stood her in the center of the floor and pulled off her shirt. She moved to help strip but he caught her wrist, bringing it to his lips for a kiss. “Daddy’s doing it,” he told her. She stood docilely as he moved behind her. He unhooked her bra and dropped it to the floor, cupping and circling her breasts with his palms. He slid a warm hand down her belly, which she immediately sucked in.

  “Don’t,” he whispered. “Daddy loves your tummy the way it is.” He kissed behind her ear. “Daddy loves you the way you are.”

  Her knees buckled. Had he just said he loved her? But no, he’d said before it’s a state of mind, not a promise. Still, her body had gone weak. She leaned her head back on his shoulder as he unbuttoned her shorts and slid his palm inside, gliding over her mons, one finger teasing her swollen outer lips. Her pussy was wet, almost embarrassingly so and he spread her moisture up to her clit, alternately circling and flicking.

  “Daddy…” she breathed.

  “What do you need, little girl?”

  “I need you…”

  He slid one finger inside her and she moaned, wanting more.

  “I need you inside me, Daddy. Please, Daddy.”

  He maneuvered her toward the bed, shoving her panties and shorts down her thighs at the same time. They dropped to the floor moments before he turned her, picked her up by the waist and tossed her back onto the bed.

  She giggled and waited, catching her breath as he stripped. Dear God, his muscles! Adonis had nothing on him. Her sex leaked in anticipation. He slid a condom on his beautiful cock before he climbed over her. Grasping her wrists, he pinned them over her head.

  “What happens if you’re mad at Daddy?”

  She arched a brow to cover the flush creeping over her face at discussing their fight so soon after it happened. “I get spanked?”

  He quirked a smile and touched her nose. “Very funny. No, little girl. You got spanked for shutting me out. Try again. What should you do if you’re mad or upset with Daddy?”

  Her face burned and she tried to look away, but found it impossible with him holding her wrists pinioned overhead, his face just inches away from hers.

  Out of nowhere, the tears that hadn’t come all day, that hadn’t come when he whipped her, popped into her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she choked.

  “Sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice a caress. “You’re long forgiven. I’m making sure you understand the lesson.” His knee settled between her legs, in the place she wanted his cock. She rubbed her mons over it, greedy for stimulation. “Tell me what you should do,” he murmured, the tenderness in his voice nearly breaking her.

  “I’ll talk to you, about it,” she said, her voice breaking a little at the beginning.

  “That’s my girl,” he said, shifting to position with his sheathed cock between her legs. She arched, straining against his hold.

  He bent to suckle one nipple, his teeth grazing it, torturing her with waves of heat rippling down to her core.

  “Please,” she whimpered.

  He seemed unhurried, moving to her other nipple and giving it the same treatment.

  “I need you,” she cried. “Please, please, please, Daddy.”

  He buried his face in her neck, biting her shoulder as he slid into her.

  “Yesss,” she breathed.

  He made a rumbling sound, almost a purr, except the kind that comes from a lion, not a housecat.

  For a second he didn’t move, and she wriggled impatiently beneath him, until he chuckled. “You want Daddy’s cock?” He withdrew and shoved it deep inside her, forcing her up the bed by at least five inches. He repeated the action, taking her hard, the way she wanted it.

  “Daddy’s going to take you until you cry, little girl. Have you ever been taken so hard you cried?”

  She rolled her head on the bed, her eyes already glazing over with pleasure.

  He continued to thrust deep and hard, propelling her to the head of the bed, then dragging her back down to the center of the bed. In one deft motion, he flipped them both over, so she now lay on top, their bodies still connected. “Ride me, Marissa,” he said, his voice thick.

  She pushed herself up to sit, cowgirl style, and rode, finding her own rhythm, gliding her pussy over his cock, grinding her clit against it.

  He cupped her sore bottom, squeezing and kneading it, pulling her hips over his to help her rhythm. Just as she began to lose her breath with exertion, he flipped them back over, pinning her hands beside her head, interlacing his fingers over the tops of each palm.

  “Look at me,” he commanded, moving with slow, deep strokes. “I only have one baby girl.”

  She moaned, ready to explode.

  “...and she’s you. And when I take a baby girl, she’s my whole universe.”

  She shattered, lights dancing before her eyes, the tears he’d promised squeezing from the outer corners of her eyes as she cried out. Her vaginal muscles squeezed his cock, her body shuddered and she shoved her pelvis up to keep him as deep inside her as she could.

  Chapter Eight

  Joel craned his neck around the kitchen doorway to look at the television. Marissa had just turned up the volume on Hollywood Gossip.

  Joel Sutherland was seen with Marissa Sparks at a showing of Cirque du Soleil in Vegas, this past weekend. Photos of the couple were posted on Twitter and Facebook and Sparks was reportedly seen on Sutherland’s lap before the show. What do you think, Ryan, is this the next Hollywood “It Couple”?

  Well, I don’t know. Marissa Sparks has certainly been making
the rounds. Just a few months ago she was reportedly engaged to rock star Billy Foxx, but of course that ended when—

  “Turn it off, Marissa,” he called out. “What did I tell you about following the tabloids?”

  The television clicked off and Marissa unfolded her long legs from the sofa and walked to her room without answering. He turned back to the kitchen, but stopped when he heard a sniff. Was she crying?

  He started to follow her then stopped. If it was about Billy Foxx, he wouldn’t be much comfort to her. That thought settled in his stomach like a heavy stone. Was she still heartbroken over Billy Foxx? He needed to know.

  He followed her into the bedroom, where he found her blowing her nose. He leaned against the doorjamb. “What is it, baby?” he asked softly.

  She jumped and turned around. “Oh!” She tossed the tissue in the trash. “Nothing.”

  “Were you crying?”

  She rubbed her eyes. “No,” she said, but her eyes drifted to the side.

  “What’s bothering you? You know it’s my job to take care of you and I can’t do that if you don’t let me know what’s going on.”

  She gave him a weak smile. “I know. Nothing’s going on.”

  His chest tightened. “Okay,” he said, returning to the kitchen. He couldn’t force her to confide. Well, if he went into full dominant mode he could, but something held him back. Maybe he feared her answer. If she still pined for Billy Foxx… He shook his head as if to erase the thought. He needed to remember they had a short-term arrangement. Just because she played his game didn’t mean she wanted a permanent role in his life.

  He finished preparing their morning smoothies and they drove to the studio in relative silence. Marissa stared out the window, as if absorbed in thought.

  They went to the editing room, because Antonio said he wanted to show them something.

  He met them with a huge grin on his face. “Come and see this,” he said mysteriously.

  They sat down and he hit play. Images from their lovemaking splashed across the screen, spliced with dialogue and action sequences, with a fast-paced musical score playing behind it all. Goosebumps stood up on Joel’s arms.