Tristan was amused, I could tell. I’d envisioned two alpha males at war, a clash of the minds, but instead Mr. Ranger was turning out to be a beta, no, a zeta male. He’d been passed over as a soldier, taking a desk job at the FBI, and was now here to feel-up my guardian, see if he could shake some dollars loose from the money tree.
And his tactics were embarrassing to say the least, openly stating that Tristan was a “high-value target,” that the billionaire had been the subject of several school board meetings, that there was even a bounty on his head for whoever brought him in the door. The worst part of the meeting was when Mr. Ranger pulled out that sad piece of paper he called a brochure. Because I knew the district had something better prepared, but he’d forgotten it at home like a kid who hadn’t done his homework and was blaming the dog.
“It’s perfect, your name on the museum, doesn’t that sound great?” Mr. Ranger snickered. And I just couldn’t take it anymore. We were here to discuss a library, not a museum, and it was time for the crossed-wires, the dumb innuendos, to be over.
“Come on, Mr. Ranger, I need some help with my homework,” I said meaningfully, gesturing for him to stand up. “Maybe we could head back and talk about Jane Austen’s character development techniques, I know Mr. Marks is really busy.”
Tristan smiled wryly at me, amused. I swear, my teacher was a clown to entertain him, provide a couple chuckles for the day.
“Sure but Mr. Marks, did you want to make a donation today?” the dude wheezed hopefully. “Maybe something small to begin with, to be followed up later by something bigger?”
And to my surprise, my guardian got his checkbook out.
“Take this as a deposit,” the big man said, scrawling out something with a flourish. “I’ll make up the balance later.”
John gasped as he took the paper. Because Mr. Marks had made out a check to cash for five thousand dollars.
“Tristan, you didn’t have to,” I gasped. “I mean, thank you, but you didn’t have to, not today.”
“No worries little girl,” he said smoothly before escorting us to the door. “Glad I could help,” he said meaningfully before opening the big wooden door and tipping his head.
“Now if you’ll excuse me,” the big man rumbled, and I smiled gratefully once more before stepping out.
“Thank you Tristan,” called Mr. Ranger from the elevator, his voice raucous across the foyer. “We’ll be back for the difference!”
And I stiffened again at the ballsiness, the sheer tenacity of my English teacher. WTF had happened? I’d thought Mr. Ranger was so amazing, so knowledgeable about classics and literature, and yet he’d turned into a bumbling fool in front of my guardian. I blamed myself, there was no one else, I should never have been so intimidated by the girls at school.
And the drive home was just as cringe-worthy. I’d immediately ignored Mr. Ranger once we got into the car, barely even able to look him in the eye.
“No I don’t need help with studying, thanks so much,” I mumbled, furtively looking out the window. “Just drop me off, please.” I was so embarrassed at his performance that it was hard for me to acknowledge his presence now.
But Mr. Ranger wouldn’t take no for an answer.
“Sure you do,” he murmured lasciviously, his face close to mine in the little Jetta, his big hand on my knee. “Sure you do.”
And sighing, I gave up.
“Fine, you can come over for a half hour, tops,” I said shortly, before we pulled into the driveway. True to my word, I let him into the drawing room to read for a bit, answering his questions with sound bytes, barely looking up as he prattled away. And after a trying twenty minutes, I asked him to leave, nicely of course.
“Mr. Ranger, I’ll see you tomorrow in class,” I promised, holding the big door open. “Thanks for coming by, it was great that you met Tristan.”
“Sure thing,” he growled, shooting me a smile, swinging his backpack over one shoulder. “I bet I’ll get more from Tristan Marks,” he boasted as he bounded down the front steps, “Just you wait!”
And the shitshow didn’t stop because Tristan’s car had pulled up to the house just then, and there was my guardian unfolding himself from the backseat. Had he overheard? I flushed again in embarrassment for this mess of a guy, what had I been thinking introducing them? Cursing Trina and her crew, I swore never to be influenced by peer pressure again, not if it meant exposing my guardian to people who had no boundaries, much less common courtesy and manners.
But Tristan gave no indication that he’d heard anything.
“Mr. Ranger, we meet again,” the big man said courteously.
“We do,” chirped my teacher. “We do, and I’ll call you about the rest of the money,” he reminded, his hand to his ear in the time-honored gesture of telephone. I sighed again, shoulders slumped. God, this had completely gone off the rails, it was an open-handed money grab, blatant and embarrassing. So as soon as the front door shut, I turned to face my guardian apologetically.
“Tristan, I’m so sorry,” I murmured, shame-faced. “I thought Mr. Ranger would be better prepared, that he’d have a speech or some talking points but …”
“But he was different from what you thought?” asked Tristan amused, an eyebrow arched. “So good in the classroom, but not so good in the boardroom?”
“That’s it exactly,” I said gratefully. I looked at the big man hesitantly. “You’re not mad are you? I didn’t know Mr. Ranger was going to be like that, I thought he’d be a little better prepared, a little more smooth. Turns out,” I said slowly, “he was a total lunkhead.”
And here the billionaire looked at me for a moment, taking everything in. I was still dressed in the office attire, the pencil skirt and blouse, a few wisps of hair escaping the updo. I must have looked so out of my element, like a kid pretending to be an adult, flushing again under his gaze. Why did I always feel so off balance in front of my guardian? How did he do this to me? I took a deep breath, dizzy suddenly, wavering a little on my feet.
But Mr. Marks said nothing, instead leaning forward slowly. And just when I thought he was going to brush my lips with his, give me a slow kiss, run his lips over mine, he pulled back at the last minute.
“No worries Daisy,” he said, his eyes giving nothing away, face shuttered. “Good night.”
And just like that the big man was gone, disappeared somewhere in the mansion. Stunned at the quick dismissal, I went upstairs to get changed into something a little more casual. Why had Mr. Marks left in a flash? Was he ignoring me? Or would we have dinner together? He was home after all, and might as well enjoy cook’s food.
But I sat at the big table alone that night, chewing on a meal that had no taste, listening to the grandfather clock tick in the massive dining room. Where was Tristan? My mind reeled. Had I pissed him off somehow? Had the events of the day turned him off from me forever? It seemed unlikely, Mr. Ranger was nothing but a gnat to Tristan. So maybe it was me. Maybe he was just sick of my face and didn’t want to bother with a teen girl anymore.
I bit down on my bread again, tasting nothing but cardboard, eyes filling with tears. It wasn’t the food. As usual, Chef had outdone herself again. I just hadn’t realized how much I’d looked forward to seeing my guardian again, re-hashing the events of the day, sharing some light conversation and jokes. But maybe Tristan was done with me for whatever reasons unknown, and my special time with the big man was over. Everything that had happened, it’d just been my imagination, a magical interlude never to be repeated.
So I finished my food, swallowing heavily, trudging back to my room, shoulders sagging. I was a no one, a teen girl, and Tristan Marks was a man of the world, an alpha billionaire. Your guardian’s out of your league, Daisy, I scolded myself. What are you thinking? He always was.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Tristan
Fuck, things have gotten out of hand. That meeting with the English teacher was nothing, that’s not what’s bothering me. It’s the whole guardian/ward
stuff. I’d been prepared to acknowledge Mr. Ranger as the competition, as another man competing for Daisy’s attention when I caught myself. What the fuck was wrong with me? This was my charge for crying out loud. Sure, she was eighteen now but that didn’t mean that she was prepared to handle a man twenty years her senior, much less one who was supposed to be her informal protector.
And the events of last week crossed my mind again. Oh god, what the fuck was wrong with me? It’d been so illicit, how she’d shown me her pussy at the table, those pink parts gleaming and moist, making me cum just from the sight. And I’d replayed the incident in my head over and over again, jacking off in my bed, heck even at work, the little girl had overtaken my mind.
But that’s the thing. I’m Daisy’s freakin’ guardian after all, the one man in the world who shouldn’t be having these thoughts. She’s off-limits, we’re bound together by her mother’s will, and Carolyn never intended for something like this to happen. She would never have left me at the steering wheel if she knew my thoughts now, of what I’d already done, how I’d forced Daisy to show me her pussy at the dinner table, how I’d almost kissed her again just now. It was so fucking wrong, men go to jail for shit like this and I have a reputation to protect, a multinational company that’s centered around my image, my aura. So I have to keep Daisy at arm’s length going forwards. It’s best this way, my empire will be safe and there’ll be no gossip.
But still, a man has needs and I wasn’t above indulging myself once in a while. Because you see, the restroom Daisy used at Marks Holdings is my private one, lavishly furnished inside with hand soaps, body lotions, all sorts of niceties for lady friends. And of course, there was a camera in there, the better to watch women as they preen in the mirror, doing their make-up, fixing their stockings and adjusting their panties.
And oh yeah, a camera runs 24/7 and recorded Daisy’s little interlude in the private chamber. So the minute I smelled her cream in the air, it was clear what had happened. As soon as they left, I flicked on my monitor and watched, massive and aroused as the girl took off her blouse, rinsed it out a bit before touching herself.
And now, alone once again in my office, my hand clicked the mouse so that I entered a protected drive on my mainframe. No way did anyone else see this shit, it was top secret and I had reel after reel of womanflesh stored on there, most from years past but there was one labeled “Daisy” that had been seeing a lot of action recently. Unzipping my pants, my dong popped out to full mast immediately, just from the anticipation.
Fuck, I thought internally. Your ward hasn’t even lit up the screen yet and you’re already fucking ready to go, ready to blast your semen into a wad of Kleenex, ready to do the dirty on your own. It was the angel on my right shoulder speaking in my ear, but immediately the demon on my left answered.
So what? It whined. No one’s gonna be hurt from all this, you’re just making yourself happy once in a while. Daisy doesn’t know you’re doing it, you’re having fun on your own.
And just like the multiple other times in the past, the devil won out. I clicked play and sat back groaning in my chair as the screen flashed to life, hand on my rock solid pole.
Because the brunette was so dirty, so delicious, so utterly wanton, that I could almost picture myself in the bathroom with her. Sure, she was shy at first, nervously licking her lips a little, staring at herself with her bra on but pretty soon, she lost all her inhibitions and stripped off the undergarment, freeing her jugs, those baby pink nipples hard as rocks. Practically drooling, eyes glued to the screen, I watched as she circled those puffy nips with her fingers, lifting a big boob up to kiss the tip slightly, swirling her tongue around the sensitive spot before dropping her teat to hike up her skirt.
And it made me so fucking hard that my hand was already a blur on my pole, the massive shaft pulsing and ready to spurt on a moment’s notice. But we were getting to the good part now.
Because yeah, there was that delicious pink cunt, Daisy still wasn’t wearing panties on a regular basis. Smiling slyly, she hoisted one foot up onto the counter for better access, wet snatch completely revealed and coyly reached between her legs, fingers slipping down to pull her pussy lips apart, giving me a good view up that steaming channel.
Oh fuck, she was so delicious, insides wet, moist, a deep, slick ruby red that contrasted with the pale white of her labia. And without further stimulation, I came then, my pole erupting in my hand, the white spilling over my fingers, hot jism leaking all over. Fuck fuck fuck! My hand continued to rub up and down my pole as my little brunette frigged her cunt, fingers running in and out of that slick pink channel, pussy pulsing and throbbing as she worked herself to ecstasy.
And mesmerized, I stared like a madman until a buzz rudely interrupted my trance. WTF?
“Mr. Marks, Ms. Lydia is here,” piped my secretary’s voice. Oh shit. Lydia Messos is a business partner, a real viper of a woman whom I forced myself to associate with occasionally. Unfortunately, even as CEO sometimes you have to kiss ass to make sure the right people see your product, buy your shit, and Lydia was one of those people who despite being pure poison to the soul, knew everyone and anyone in NYC, making it paramount to stay on her good side.
And tonight I’d agreed to have drinks with her at the Carlyle Hotel, a sumptuous palace known for its after work scene. Shit! Glancing at my watch, I saw that it was only six thirty. Hadn’t we planned on drinks at seven? The bitch was early, she’d wanted to catch me off-balance and had succeeded.
“Tell her I’ll be right out,” I ground out, stuffing my dick back into my pants. But who was I kidding? I’d fucking splattered all over and there was jism on my trousers, white even on my shoes. With a growl I stood up, striding over to an oak cabinet cleverly hidden in the wall of the room. Pressing a hidden button, a door swung open to reveal a full array of clothes. I stroked my jaw thoughtfully before selecting a new pair of dress pants with Italianate loafers to match. Yeah, just what the CEO ordered.
Dressing myself quickly, I stuffed the dirty clothes into a hamper before shutting the oak door on everything. My secretary knew where that shit was, Mrs. Crohn has been with me for years now and has seen my semen-stained clothing before. Granted, there’d been more of it lately now that I was regularly watching the video of Daisy, but as always, Mrs. Crohn was discreet, subtle, her voice evincing nothing as we exchanged good mornings each day. I’d have to give her a five-figure bonus this year, a good admin deserves every penny.
And mentally preparing myself, I opened the door to my office, striding out with long, purposeful steps.
“Lydia,” I said courteously, nodding my head, “You’re early.”
“Really?” said the skinny blonde, feigning shock. “I thought we said six thirty,” her blue eyes innocent and wide.
But I could tell the bitch was lying. Lydia has a brain like a steel trap, ready to catch whatever piece of man she could. It didn’t matter that I’d rebuffed her advances multiple times, if anything the rejection only made her more determined. And as usual, Lydia was in fine form today, homing in on my weak spot like a carrier pigeon.
“How’s that girl?” she purred sultrily as we made our way to the elevators. “You know, the maid for hire?”
I gave her a hard look as the floor dropped below us.
“My ward is fine,” I said smoothly. “Daisy’s doing great.”
“Oh really?” smirked Lydia. “Oh really, you don’t just use her as free help? Not that you can’t afford real help, but having another set of hands in the kitchen is always useful.”
And my brows lowered, face growing furious at the suggestion. Daisy was more to me than the help and I fucking hated how some people saw her as a charity case. The brunette was a young woman with a bright future, why the hell was Lydia equating her with some no-name maid? But I kept my feelings in check, expression bland. Never let the viper get under your skin.
“Daisy’s going to college next year,” I said with exaggerated courtesy. “In fact, I�
�m thinking of taking her to visit my alma mater, Hudson U. in Upstate New York.”
Lydia just shrieked hysterically.
“You think that girl can get into Hudson?” she snorted. “What, I thought she was a C-level student, not some kind of whiz kid.”
I kept my face frozen as I held open the car door.
“Daisy’s quite smart, you’d be surprised,” I said neutrally. “She did well at boarding school and is at the top of her class now.”
“Oh sure,” replied Lydia sarcastically. “Let me guess, Swiss boarding school equals good education? I think not,” she sniped. “Those places are for finding husbands, not finding a brain,” she said, unable to let go without one last jab.
I would have physically hit the blonde then, smacked that woman so that her face cracked open, but restrained myself. This was just business and there are multiple ways to intimidate subtly, without physical force. So I kept my face impassive, courteously shutting the door.
But Lydia just didn’t get it, had no inkling of how angry I was. Because once we were settled in the car, she launched herself at me full force, slinging a shapely leg over mine, long red fingernails crawling up my knee.
“Hey big guy,” she purred. “Let’s just forget it, okay? It’s nothing, not even worth a conversation,” she said dismissively, drawing close. The scent of her perfume was heavy in the air, cloying and practically choking me, my air passages closing on contact, making me hack slightly.
“Lydia, no go baby,” I said smoothly, turning my head away. God, even the fumes from passing cars were better than whatever this woman had spritzed on her body.
But Lydia is tenacious, she didn’t get to where she is by taking no for an answer. So before my stunned eyes, the blonde unzipped the front of her dress until the fabric split open, her body creamy and nude before me. It was some weird designer outfit where there was a big gold zipper that ran all the way from the neckline to the hem so the thing literally separated in two, revealing her body from head to toe, that cunt, those boobs bare for my gaze. I saw that my little ward wasn’t the only one who didn’t wear underwear, the blonde had shaved herself until she was bare as a baby. But that’s where the similarities ended because where Daisy was plump and juicy, this woman was all skin and bones, wrinkled like a hag.
Claiming His Virgin In the Ring Page 43
