by West, Jade
Daddy’s Dirty Boss
Jade West
Contents
Foreword
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Daddy’s Dirty Boss copyright © 2019 Jade West
The moral rights of the author have been asserted.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the email address below.
Cover design by Letitia Hasser of RBA Designs http://designs.romanticbookaffairs.com/
Edited by John Hudspith http://www.johnhudspith.co.uk
All enquiries to [email protected]
First published 2019
Foreword
Jade is back, and very pleased to be so.
I hope you’re ready for Mr Lindon.
Prologue
Faith
It was another pretty in pink birthday. My sixteenth. Me in my backyard as the sun shone down on my teenage blonde curls. Happy birthday being sung loudly along with the glow of birthday candles.
My heart beating fast as my eager eyes sought out my hero in the crowd.
Not my dad, or the array of uncles alongside him. They were great. Of course they were. My dad was every bit the epic hero a girl like me should look up to.
No. This was different. This hero was different.
The man I was searching out was the handsome suited hero who’d been at every birthday party I could remember. The man with the hard jaw and the icy grey eyes to complement the salt and pepper at his temples. He was the man with the cold hard stare. The man who gave me a tingly little shiver between my legs every time he called my name.
Mr Miles Lindon. Managing Director of Lindon Associates and Enterprise.
My daddy’s boss.
I scanned the onlookers for any sight of him, my smile holding firm as my heart picked up its beat another notch. My mum held the pretty cake high as the song sounded loud, and I was there, caught tight in the moment, all ready to blow out those candles and watch him staring right back at me.
But he wasn’t there.
Mr Lindon wasn’t there in the crowd. He’d slipped away without a whisper.
“Make a wish, sweetie,” Mum said, but I didn’t feel sweet. Not in that moment. Not with the tingle of want for Mr Lindon so alive inside me. I didn’t feel sweet at all as a wish for Mr Lindon to claim my innocence tumbled through my mind.
No, that kind of wish wasn’t acceptable. Not for a good girl like me in my pretty pink dress. I pushed the thoughts away, wishing instead for great results at my approaching exams and a win at the upcoming county hockey game. I pushed my dirty fantasies down and thanked everyone for their amazing presents and amazing good wishes, my eyes still scanning the garden for the man who’d been keeping me awake at night with filthy dreams.
And then I did it. I sucked in a breath and delivered.
The applause was loud as I blew out the candles. My school friends gave their whoops and cheers, and my dad smiled on over, and my mum placed the cake onto the side table and started slicing up the portions, but I was already moving. Slinking towards the back. Curiosity pulling me along.
I was on autopilot as I made my way through the bodies, smoothing down my cute satin skirt and giggling along with giggles. The party music sounded loud and the thrum of laughter was lively, but the curiosity still called me, louder and louder.
It was like I knew. Like I knew Mr Lindon really was down there somewhere, I guess on some level I must have done. I must have felt the curiosity like a mischief, tickling hard down deep.
Everyone was busy chatting and laughing and joking as I slipped away and out of sight. Our garden was long. Our pond was a quaint little pool with a waterfall and a bridge crossing. My mum’s bushes and orchids and natural sweep of flower beds curled away to the left, to the summerhouse and the pear trees.
And Mr Lindon.
To his thrusts and grunts. To his filth and wants and growls.
To the slim little blonde girl who looked barely a year older than me.
She was in pale blue, her cute little breasts hardly any bigger than mine as they bounced. She clutched tightly onto one of the pear trees as she accepted him, eyes screwed shut and lip pinned hard between her teeth. She took everything he had to give her, and it looked painful. Painful but beautiful.
His fingers were tight around her neck, his mouth to her ear, grunting. Grunting so cold and hard that my pussy burned.
His words were filth.
His slams were fierce.
I felt the dirty little shudder down deep.
I felt the wetness, and my legs tensed. Oh, how they tensed.
Oh, how I wanted to be that dirty blonde girl in blue.
But this wasn’t the Mr Lindon I’d known for years through school. It wasn’t the Mr Lindon I’d grinned at and bloomed over and read stories to. The Mr Lindon I’d been fighting my own feelings over.
It wasn’t the man who’d given me a kitten at seven years old and congratulated me on a great childhood princess win.
It wasn’t the man who’d pulled me onto his lap and told me what a good girl I was.
This was the man I’d dreamed of during long nights and known I shouldn’t.
This was the man I’d slipped my fingers down between my clammy thighs and felt dirty about over and over.
And now he was the man who twisted his head to face me as I stepped on a twig. The crack sounded loud. Too loud.
We stopped. Both of us. Trapped in the moment as our eyes crashed together across the gap in the hedgerow.
Then his stare slipped down. Slowly. His slipped down pink satin, over my heaving chest and the fingers pressed tight between my legs.
To everything.
To every part the dirty little girl I was daring to be on my birthday.
His fingers stayed tight around the other girl’s neck, and I recognised her. I recognised her as the office admin girl Dad had given a lift home to after school the week previous.
Her eyes widened to match mine, her mouth dropping open just like mine as I stepped backwards. But she didn’t move. Not a muscle.
Mr Lindon held her way too tightly.
I shook my head and muttered my apologies in the aftermath, but my dad’s dirty hero boss didn’t say a word in
return. His thrusts were slow, and his eyes were filth.
He was filth.
And that was the moment, as I backed away, mumbling sorries. That was the moment I first discovered that Mr Lindon wasn’t just my daddy’s boss. Not even close.
Mr Lindon was my daddy’s dirty boss. My daddy’s very dirty boss.
And it turned out it wouldn’t be all that long until he was my very dirty boss too.
Chapter One
Faith
Two years later… Almost…
Hell, how there was a shudder of nerves down deep as I followed my dad into Mr Lindon’s office that Monday morning. Okay. Well, not just nerves. Nerves and excitement. A crazily heady combination. One that had been a long time coming.
I kept my smile bright as I stepped on by Fiona, the receptionist at the main office counter, and held up my hand in a wave. She held hers up to her chest in response, as though I was some kind of prize specimen in my fresh little good girl blouse and pencil skirt, and I realised all over again how much they’d all seen me grow up these past few years.
I was taller. Curvier. Every bit the blonder young woman for the years at college.
Well, not quite all of them had seen me grow up these past few years. Mr Lindon himself had steered well clear of me since that birthday afternoon. The one that had seen me staring open-mouthed at him balls-deep in Penny Andrews before I’d backed the hell out of there like a babbling fool.
Cringe.
It really had been cringe, and I really had tossed and turned over the girl-turned-teenager aspects ever since. My fingers had been down my knickers way more than enough to have my cheeks burning. Still, Mr Lindon himself had stayed away without a word on the topic, and I’d kept my mouth shut too.
So yeah, I’d stayed away. Quiet and a good girl, keeping my grades coming okay, all the while dreaming up a future. A future where I could one day be as dirty as Penny Andrews. As much of a bad girl as Penny Andrews. These new days coming were… different…
Finally, college had kicked out and Dad had started up with the summer job ideas, and it was finally becoming likely that I’d get to spend some actual time with Mr Lindon on some fateful level. Pleaseeeeee. Oh, please…
Please, please let the fates hook me up with Mr Lindon finally on some fateful level.
My palms were clammy to the max as I kept following Dad in the direction of his hot boss, nodding and waving to the assembled finance team before stepping on through to the management suite at the back of the Lindon Associates offices. My cheeks felt achy with the sheer weight of the grin on my face, and my steps felt short and quick and stupid as I clutched my file to my chest and kept on going.
I knew Dad had already run my summer job idea past his boss and got the thumbs-up, but it still felt a precarious opportunity somehow. Fragile. A fragile dream I was desperate to explore.
That’s an understatement.
“Remember,” Dad said to me over his shoulder. “Mr Lindon is always busy. You be sure to make the most of his every little gem of insight. You can learn so much from him.”
I nodded hard right back at him. I had no doubt I could learn plenty from Mr Lindon. None in the slightest.
Mr Lindon wasn’t just the hugest hero crush I’d ever have in a million years because he looked the hottest part in a hundred mile radius. He was also the county’s best antiques and auctioneering expert, renowned right across the country for that super sharp brain of his. He knew so much, and had so much respect from so many people. The antiques world was specialist – so many experts respecting experts and he was right at the top of the pile.
And I was so close, with the potential of being so much closer.
I really needed to be so close too. Not just for my crazy crush, but for my interests. My genuine interests. Interests I’d had since I was an antiques-curious kid in an antiques-rich family.
Not just my dad was interested in antiques history, but my grandad had been too. Both of them passing along their genuine enthusiasm to the girl following them around their world.
There was plenty of antique art gracing the walls as Dad led me right through to Mr Lindon’s private office, and I realised again just how long it’d been since I’d been back here.
Almost two years.
It was true. I’d not been back here once since seeing him fucking Penny Andrews at my sixteenth birthday party.
Not only had I been kept at arm’s length since, but the girl herself had gone from office employment less than a month after that incident. From what I could tell there hadn’t been anyone anywhere near her age employed here since either. Only sensible middle-agers with long skirts and no naughty twinkle in their eyes.
Not until today.
Not until me.
My cheeks burned up afresh at the thought.
Dad gestured me right on up to Mr Lindon’s office door ahead of him. He reached over my shoulder and rapped the wood with a smile, and my heart pounded. It really pounded.
I took a breath, but it wasn’t Mr Lindon that answered the door and stepped aside with a tip of the head. It was his assistant. His office manager assistant, Erica Tate. The blonde in her forties who had… history… history with him.
Plenty of history with him.
My belly did a little drop at the thought that maybe they still had plenty of history going on between them.
She raised an eyebrow as she stepped aside to let us through.
“Well, well. You really do have a fresh little office junior on the books from today it seems,” she said over her shoulder, and gestured us in.
I gripped my file tighter to my chest as I stepped over the threshold, certain my cheeks would be pinking up. Dad was smiling away proudly as he displayed me to his boss, and I hoped I really was pride-worthy.
“Our sweet little Faith is here and ready, Miles,” he said. “I trust she’s going to do you proud these next few months.”
And there he was greeting me. The man himself. The crush himself. The man who’d been entertaining me at night for years.
The hard jaw. The sharp suit. The firm shoulders greeting me from across the mahogany desk.
I didn’t know what to do other than head right on up and reach on over, my smile feeling goofy as he got to his feet and reached his solid handshake right back at me.
His fingers were firm. Tense.
His salt and pepper was more vivid at his temples. His dark brows were every bit as dark.
“Faith,” Mr Lindon said, and I nodded.
“That’s me, sir,” I replied, feeling like such a goof. “Really pleased to be here. Thanks for having me. I prepared some documents for you to get an idea of my strengths.”
I handed over the file to illustrate my point, telling him about my résumé and the previous references I’d printed out from the little weekend jobs in town. I told him I was excited to learn a fresh new world about antiques, and auctioneering, and knew that he’d be an incredibly valuable person to share his knowledge. And then, finally, I shut my mouth and waited mute while Mr Lindon sat himself back down and flicked through my file.
I chanced a risky glance at Dad, and he was smiling. His head was tipped to the side as he reiterated that I’d be a great young student for the summer. Erica Tate looked suspicious of the whole setup and its worth, and whether I should have any place in this company whatsoever, but I guessed that would be my point to prove over the coming months.
“You’re sure you will really find the value of work experience here?” Mr Lindon pushed, and I nodded.
“Yes, Mr Lindon, sir. I will definitely find the value of work experience here. I want to be an auctioneer. That’s the career I want long-term, no matter what.”
His eyebrow raised high. Jaw still hard. “You want to be an auctioneer, Miss Martin? I thought you may have grown out of that little dream by now. I thought that may be limited to the seven-year-old Faith Martin’s ambitions before she got a taste of the wider world.”
The shake of my head was
fierce. “I’ll never grow out of that dream,” I told him. “I love antiques and always have done. I watch the weekday auction TV shows every day around college. Maple and Co. wardrobes are my favourites. I even collect writing slopes…” I gestured to the file in front of him. “I did reports for some of my business studies assignments. I included them so you can see how serious I am about the world of auctioneering.”
“She’s very serious,” Dad stepped in. “Too serious for much of the time. I told her she could only take the work experience here this summer if she assured me she’d head to university afterwards.”
“Good call,” Mr Lindon said. “That’s truly the case, is it, Faith? You’ll be attending university in September for a decent degree effort?”
I hated the thought, but nodded anyway. “Yeah, I will. Warwick. Accountancy.”
He offered a simple nod. “Good. I’m pleased to hear it.” His eyes burned mine hard, and in that moment I was right back in the garden, staring on while his hand gripped Penny’s throat. He cleared his throat and dropped his stare. “You’ll be learning the most from Erica,” he said. “You’ll be shadowing her.”
My belly dropped again, but I forced a nod. “Thank you, sir,” I told him. “I look forward to it.”
