by Maren Smith
I open and stick out my tongue for his inspection.
“That’s a good girl.” He wipes my chin off with his thumb and nudges my clit with his toe. I whimper clinging to his thighs. Unexpectedly, he pulls me up in his arms and drops a kiss on my lips before nuzzling my neck. It feels oddly sweet for a man who just made me swallow his load.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he coos.
Says the man who’s never had to hold man-spunk in his mouth. “You obviously need to eat more pineapple,” I grumble, still angry he didn’t let me come.
His answering chuckle is low and kind of mean, which for some reason I find really hot. Especially when he follows it up by asking, “And how do you taste? Sweet and tart, like bad decisions and hot sex?” He nudges between my thighs, moves the crotch of my panties aside, and then his fingers are there, pushing inside me. My hips rock forward.
Daddy, please make me come. It’s on the tip of my tongue to say it. I’ve come this far. I should say it. His other hand strokes up and down my back, and I’m cocooned in his warmth. Seduced by the heady rich scent of him.
Him being fully dressed while I’m nearly naked only highlights how much more in command of this situation he is.
“You want to come, baby girl?”
I nod into his chest, loving his power and control over me.
“You think you deserve to come?”
My gaze jerks to his. He’s teasing and I relax even as he smirks. He fists my hair, holding my head back as he sips at my lips in little nipping kisses. And every time I get close to coming, he gentles his touch.
I whimper, chasing his fingers, trying to deepen his touch.
“Maybe I should make you get back on the floor and fuck the tip of my shoe again. I liked the way your needy little pussy rode my laces. I’m getting hard again just thinking about it, princess.”
And he is. Wet trails of precum smear over my belly as I buck against his hand. I swear I’ll get on my knees for him again if he wants, but first I really want to come.
I fist the lapels of his suit. “Please… daddy.” The daddy comes out at a whisper, but it unlatches a lock inside me with an audible click and I want to say it over and over and over. “Daddy, please make me come.” This time my words are guttural. Needy.
He stuffs two fingers inside me and growls in my neck. “Ride daddy’s fingers, princess, and take what you need.”
Too far gone for embarrassment, I cling to him and thrust and grind on his hand, humping until I’m so close I’m shaking, but my orgasm is still out of reach. I brazenly reach down and move his thumb to my clit and he presses hard.
“Is this what you need, baby girl? Right here?”
“Yes, daddy. Yes. Yes.” I hold his hand in place as I cry out into his chest. He yanks my head back to watch my face as I continue to ride his hand through my orgasm.
His gaze is too intense. Too consuming.
I wrench my eyes closed as I finish coming. When I’m done gushing and spasming, he gently extricates his fingers from my clutch and brings them to his mouth, licking and sucking my juices off his skin. This I watch mesmerized. He paints some on my lips and my tongue darts out.
His forehead falls to mine. “I was right,” he says. “You do taste like bad decisions.”
“Is that a good thing?”
“I shouldn’t want you,” he says. “I shouldn’t be taking what’s not mine.” He kisses my forehead and I know whatever just happened between us is coming to a close. It’s as if an invisible wall now separates us, and I’m stabbed with keen disappointment.
I have no idea what he means by shouldn’t be taking what’s not mine. I thought he’d argue I’m too young. A twenty-one-year-old co-ed sorority girl. That’s an understandable argument. But, shouldn’t be taking what’s not mine? Who does he think I belong to? And screw that. “I’m not an object. No one owns me. I can be with whoever I want.”
His brow goes up at that. Just one skeptical brow. “Big words. Tell me, Hayden. If I were to pull your little panties down and stick my tongue in you—my cock in you—who would you cry out for? What name would be on your pretty little lips? Theo, or daddy?”
When I came on his fingers, my muffled cry was daddy, but I don’t know if that’s the answer he wants. “I still think of you as Teddy,” I finally say. That’s what I remember everyone calling him. His father was the only one who called him Theo. And Theodore feels very formal. Too formal.
His lips quirk. “That’s a non-answer, sweetheart.”
“I’d like you inside me. Cock, or tongue, or fingers. I’ll call you whatever you want me to.” It’s an honest confession and makes him pause. “I like calling you daddy, but if you don’t like it...”
He blows out a breath. “I like it too much.”
That makes me frown. I still don’t understand why he’s drawing back. I’m still dizzy from his words. From his fingers. I want his mouth on me. His cock inside me. It’s large. Much larger than I’m used to and I want to know what it’ll feel like. If the stretch would hurt. If he’d fuck me roughly. Or start out slow and let me adjust like he did my mouth before using me the way he wanted.
“Do you like me better, sweetheart?” he asks, quietly. “Do you want my cock more?”
More than who? More than anyone I’ve ever been with? Yes. But I’m already feeling too vulnerable, too exposed to admit that right now.
“Don’t answer that,” he says as if sensing my internal struggle. “I shouldn’t have asked.”
He sounds so disappointed I nearly relent and admit that he’s rocked the foundation of my being like no other. And even if I never see him again, I’ll likely remember him always, and compare every man who comes after, to him and how much I want him. How hard he made me come. How the world around me has ceased to exist since he said my name.
“I see why he likes you so much.” He trails a finger down my cheek. “Daddy’s little angel.” His gaze seems covetous. Angry. But I have no idea what he’s talking about. Who likes me?
A knock, knock rasps the door. I huddle into Teddy. The door knob rattles, but Teddy whispers in my ear, “It’s locked.” But I still can’t relax.
There’s an uncomfortable cough on the other side. “Mr. Hamilton, your two o’clock is early. I’m getting them refreshments while they wait. And your father would like to see you at your earliest convenience.”
“Thank you, Jakob,” Teddy says, sounding calm. Collected. Like this is a daily occurrence for him. Maybe it is. Maybe I’m just one of many.
Oh, god, of course I’m one of many. We’re practically strangers and he…and I…and we…
The shock of what we’ve just done. What I’ve just done is hitting my system like being plunged into a frigid body of water. It knocks the breath out of me and is just as painful.
I stripped out of my clothes and blew Teddy Hamilton. In his office. In the middle of the day.
Maybe I taste like bad decisions because I’m prone to making so damn many of them.
Theo
Hayden scrambles into her clothes, clearly embarrassed we’d gotten caught. I’m not. I hope it spreads all the way to my father's ears.
“Want to accompany me to my father’s office?” I ask as I straighten my own clothes.
It’s a prick move, shoving our dalliance in his face, but I want her for myself. And if I’m honest, I have since the first moment I saw her in the back garden of my family home, years ago. I’m irrationally pissed off and it’s not her fault.
Although, her halo isn’t exactly without tarnish. Even if her and my father aren’t exclusive, she just blew his son. In the corporate office.
She pales as I suspected she would. “No, thank you. I should go.” Her hands tremble as she snatches her purse off the floor, but I stop her at the door.
“You start tomorrow. Be here at eight am. And just an FYI, I take my coffee with two creams, one sugar.”
Her delicately arched brows scrunch together in confusion. I can tell the m
oment she understands the implications of my words. Though, she looks no less incredulous. “You want me to work here? For you?”
“Yes.”
“I thought you’d filled the position.”
“I’ve reconsidered. The temp job is yours.”
“Why?”
“You were willing to get on your knees for it.” I purposely echo the reason she lost her internship.
Twin dots of color splotch her cheeks and I’m not sure if it’s more out of anger or embarrassment. Probably both.
I smile and open the door. My father greets us on the other side, fist raised to knock.
Before I catch the look on her face, Hayden ducks under my arms and escapes down the hall.
“Tomorrow, eight sharp,” I call after her. “Don’t be late.” She doesn’t stop or turn. “Wear something more appropriate for the office.”
That gets me a venomous glare over her shoulder.
My father watches her escape, eyes narrowed. “Was that Hayden Parkhurst?”
“Yes, she’s going to be filling in for Wendy. And she was dropping off some papers for her parents.”
My father follows me into the office that still smells like sun kissed flowers and Hayden’s pussy, and I grab the Parkhurst papers.
“I thought you hired someone from the temp agency.”
“I found that I liked Ms. Parkhurst better.”
“What the hell are you doing?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
He harrumphs, but his jaw ticks like I’m getting to him. Good.
“You need to watch yourself with that one,” he warns.
“Who? Hayden?”
“Yes, she’s…” He purses his lips searching for the right word. “Young. Impressionable. Naive.”
I snort. “Sounds like your type. Hoping to keep her for yourself?”
He scowls. “I don’t dip my wick in company ink. And I’d prefer if you didn’t either.”
I bet he doesn’t. “You wanted to see me?”
“I need you to take the Hendersons, as well as the Rockinghams, and the Astley-Smythes.”
“Those are your biggest clients.”
“I’m going to have to cut back.”
Cut back? My father has never in his life uttered those words. “Are you dying?”
His jaw clenches. “Talia is pregnant.”
“Grandmother’s cocker spaniel?”
“The woman,” he grits out.
“Which one is Talia?”
He huffs an impatient sigh. “I brought her to the Ford-Prescott gala last month.”
I try to remember who’d been on his arm that night. “Tall blonde with a bright pink dress?”
“That’s her.”
“Ahh.” She’d been a giggler who looked like a human Barbie doll. I like grandmother’s spaniel better, but I keep that to myself. “I thought you had a vasectomy after mother got pregnant with me?”
“Apparently it can grow back.”
My eyebrows go up. That’s horrific. “So, you’ve seen a doctor? You know it’s yours?”
“I’ve seen someone about the vasectomy and am scheduled for a new one. I’m not forcing her to get a paternity test until after the baby is born, but it’s likely mine.”
“You’re sixty-three.”
“I’m aware.” His tone is bored and I wonder if anything ever shakes the asshole.
“You know, this wouldn’t be happening if you didn’t fuck women younger than me.”
“I’m aware of that, also. Hazards of a life well spent. Will you take the clients or not?”
“Sure. Wouldn’t want you spread too thin, papa.”
“This stays between you and I. It’s still early and—”
“You’re embarrassed.” I finish for him.
He doesn’t confirm or deny it, but I know I’m right.
“Your kid is going to be younger than your grandkids.” My brother Wesley’s oldest is about to be six. His youngest, maybe two.
He blows out a breath, rubbing at his forehead. For the first time since he walked into my office, my father's calm veneer cracks. It’s rare for the man to show emotion. Although I generally delight in getting him to lose his temper, this is uncomfortable.
I almost feel bad for him. Almost. He doesn't deserve my sympathy or pity. He’s lucky I still talk to him, let alone work for him. I work here for one reason, and one reason alone, and it’s not for him.
“It’s not an ideal situation,” he grudgingly admits.
That’s an understatement. And I wonder what this means to his other women. Women like Hayden. He was never faithful to my mother. Why this Talia girl?
I still have to ask. “Are you marrying her?”
He snorts, and I have my answer. “I married for the sake of the baby once. And while I don’t regret you or your brother, I do regret marrying your mother. We didn’t suit.”
“You mean, you couldn’t be faithful.”
“I was never cut out for marriage, son. I love variety too much.” He wears a smug smile at this admission, as if recalling the vast array of women he’s been with.
This is the man Hayden gave herself to when she must have been, what, eighteen?
I suddenly want to punch my dad in the face.
“I have a client waiting,” I all but growl.
He must sense he overstepped the invisible line, the one that’s been between us for years. The one he can’t cross if he wants me to acknowledge him in public.
We both know the only reason I’m here, why I tolerate his presence in my life at all is for my mother. It was our agreement. I work for him and play the somewhat loving son, and he doesn't financially cut off my mother. He pays her club dues, living expenses, and a reasonably large monthly allowance, in exchange for my soul. Because he is the devil.
He stuffs his hands in his pockets and takes a step towards the door. “Of course. And, son? Remember what I said about the Parkhurst girl. She’s the type to be clingy. Steer clear.”
Clingy. My father would have ended things early had she been clingy. He hates clingy women. Like my mother. That may explain why Hayden was dressed as she was. Had she hoped to lure him back in? Was today’s tryst with me a bid to make my father jealous? Or was I just a consolation prize because my father was unavailable.
I seethe at the idea of being used, knowing full well part of why I had come onto her was to get back at my father. But only a small part really. An excuse to take what I wanted the moment I saw her in the garden all those years ago.
He taps my door frame twice and then is gone, but my irritation with him lingers throughout the day only muted by thoughts of sinfully sweet Hayden.
I imagine all the things I’d like to do to her, how I’ll punish her, and if she’ll scream when I fuck her on my desk. And I’m definitely fucking her on my desk. And I’m going to make her call me daddy. Not just when she’s taking my cock either. I’ll have her prance around my office in her heels and little girl cotton panties, calling me daddy as she transcribes my notes and emails.
I’ll have her call me daddy as she nests in the rumpled sheets of my bed… in my penthouse.
I tap a pen on a stack of paperwork I haven’t even begun to go through. She’s not even in the office and she’s proving to be a huge distraction. It was a mistake to hire her. I shouldn’t have done it.
She might not show.
She didn’t want the job.
I implied she only got it because she blew me.
That alone is a legal nightmare.
She likely hates me.
I hope she shows.
Chapter Four
Hayden
Much like yesterday I get a few glances, side eyes, and second looks for what I’m wearing as I ride the elevator to the 18th floor. Unlike yesterday it makes me smile.
I’ve gone back and forth about taking the job. I have no idea what Teddy wants from me. It may essentially be a paid booty call. Which, essentially makes me a…
I probably shouldn’t take this position. No, I most definitely shouldn’t. It’s demoralizing. Reckless. Insane. Admittedly, as a feminist this is a huge fail. But here I am. And forty-five minutes late, no less.
I figure a perk of blowing my boss is making my own rules. Not to mention regular office hours don’t begin until nine am. Making me come in an hour early is BS.
The doors ding and I bypass the empty front desk and head down the hall to Teddy’s office. I stop off in the breakfast bar/kitchenette area to make him some coffee. I don’t add any cream or sugar.
When I get to his office, he’s already with someone. The door is closed, but his blinds are open. I rap my knuckles on the door twice and stride in, shoulders back. Head high.
“Here’s your coffee, Mr. Hamilton.”
Teddy’s eyes narrow as he takes in my fluffy white crop sweater, flirty skirt, and thigh high creamy white knit stockings.
Yes, I decided to own the shit out of my sexuality today. Carpe sexus! Or something like that.
His jaw ticks and gaze heats when he gets to the ankle buckles of my white high-heeled Mary Janes.
I turn to who I assume is his client sitting across from him. “May I get you anything to drink, sir? Coffee, water?”
The middle-aged gentleman smiles politely and shakes his head, no.
I feel Teddy watch me as I leave and gently close the door behind me. Then I take out the red heart wreath I brought from home and hang it with a temporary hook on the back of his office door.
Nothing on this entire sterile floor is decorated and I know he’ll hate it.
That makes me smile.
There are two things on the desk outside his office. A detailed agenda, I’m assuming was written up by his real personal assistant. The one I’m filling in for. And a beautiful bouquet of flowers. Pink, white, purple, with sprigs of green. I couldn’t say what types they are, but I appreciate them far more than the apology roses Liam sent. I lean in to smell them and spy a card. I open it and read:
Roses are red,
Violets are blue.
Naughty girls get spankings,
And their asses turn that color too.
