For Daddy

by Celia Crown

  I gasp and spin my body to go fetch my clothes that he had thrown into the garbage. Without clothes, how the heck am I supposed to go home?

  “Do not,” he hisses; one big hand catches my elbow and swings me back into his chest.

  I swallow the thick glob of saliva making habitation on my tongue. “I need them.”

  My voice comes out soft and meek; I am unable to look directly into his glaring eyes. The side of his face works fine, but then his chiseled jawline is absolutely distracting, so I move down to his neck.

  That’s a weapon to be used since it’s thick and pulsing with a vein at the side. His collarbone isn't any better, and that leads my eyes down to the unbuttoned shirt to show a patch of inked skin.

  His body can be categorized as a weapon of mass destruction.

  “You don’t,” he says, cold and impassive when he takes me to his work station that is locked from his office.

  Of course, I do. Who doesn’t need clothes? Just because he has so much money that he can walk around naked if he wants and no one can do anything about it, it doesn’t mean that I don’t need the clothes that I have bought myself.

  They are cheap and not made for delicacy likes his—oh, his watch.

  “Wait, wait!” I wiggle my elbow from his grip, and he jerks his head back to me with the ferociousness of a beast.

  “What?” He frowns, dismay etching in his baritone voice.

  “The watch,” I start, but I choke on my own spit, “Your watch is in the bathroom!”

  “Leave it,” he says while he moves his hand back to my elbow again.

  There is no way I am going to leave a half a million-dollar watch on the bathroom sink of all places. Though, it looks like I have no choice when he glares down at me.

  “It’s the gift you gave me…” I trail off weakly. “I want to give it back to you.”

  His face says it all as he silently demands an explanation after I have had to listen to him tell me why I should accept his gift that he gave me months ago.

  “I just—it’s too much. Please, I really can’t accept it!”

  Especially if my ex-boyfriend unintentionally took it home with him somehow.

  My begging does nothing to him, but I thought I saw a flash of thrill in his eyes.

  Simone faces me, taking the back of my neck in his hand as a hostage as he makes me look him into his eyes. His thumb travels down to my jaw and then to my neck where he holds me just a touch more than I’m comfortable with.

  “You will accept everything I give you.”

  Chapter Two

  Simone

  I am not a good man. A decent one at best on a good day, but I am not here to please anyone.

  Everyone can fuck off for all I care. The only person that matters is this tiny, little thing in front of me, scared shitless and so frightened of me that one move on my part and she would faint.

  She’s standing by the table with papers scattered on the surface, searching for the right design for me while I clench the measuring tape around my fingers.

  I imagine her. All of my thoughts revolve around her; smiling on a sunny day, shyly swirling her long black hair with nervous fingers while waiting for my approval, and I imagine her struggling to take my fat cock inside her tight little pussy.

  How I became this horrid monster lurking behind her, breathing down her neck and controlling every aspect of what I can control, and taking my place in her life—it’s beyond me that she can be clueless to the hunger I have for her.

  “Quit stalling,” my voice comes out harsher than I wanted.

  It got her startled and a small squeak spills out of her sweet lips. A little mouse is what she is, and I’m that devious cat waiting for the chase.

  Aria is shy, and she isn't used to being touched. The smallest graze would have her blushing and stammering out any excuse to step away from me.

  It’s not my proudest moment, but using her as my model would make her understand that my touch would never hurt her. I am not a patient man, and this is the only way I can think of being close to her without hurting her and forcing her to do things against her will.

  I’m not that despicable of a human being.

  “Sorry!” she yelps, stumbling back to me with her small hands clutching a bunch of papers.

  “I said Spring, not the entire year.” I glance down at the sketches that I have made for the seasons.

  All of them are lingerie for her. I will be damned if she wears anything that isn't made with my own hands. I take her measurements as an excuse to touch her supple little body, and I didn’t need to know since I have her centimeters in my head.

  “I don’t know which one Spring is,” she murmurs, lips down turning and slightly pouting.

  I don’t blame her for not understanding my designs; Summer and Winter can’t be differentiated by anything else other than the colors. They are red and blue, but Spring is pink, and it’s the color of her favorite damn roses that are stupidly popular in Spring.

  “Use your head.” I sigh, running my hand into my hair and bringing the same hand down to knock her on the top of her head.

  She whimpers, her glassy blue eyes watering at my rough treatment. Aria fumbles with the papers, looking urgently through the sketches and piecing together the most obvious concept that I have made.

  Aria suits simplicity the best. She doesn’t need jewelry hanging from her neck, nor does she need twenty pieces of clothing to complete her look. That doesn’t mean I’m not going to do that; my money is meant to be used on her, and I’m not going to use any shortcuts when it comes to spoiling her.

  She’s my little girl; she just doesn’t know it yet.

  Aria is just one step backward from regressing human evolution to primitive days.

  Naïve, trusting to a fault, and too pure for this godforsaken city.

  She wasn’t chosen for her resume. I had no interest in her work history nor the interview that she had to do with me. Aria was there simply because my cold, dead heart decided to give a strong pulse after being in hibernation for years.

  That heated moment had my cock jerking to full thickness and out of dormancy. She was my first interview ever, and her special treatment began that day; she was hired immediately after I had let her squirm in silence for an entire thirty minutes under my scrutiny, and she had smiled so beautifully that I nearly lunged myself at her over the table.

  “Is it this one?” she asks meekly, raising up one crumbled paper to me while the hope in her eyes grows stronger.

  Mistakes are not forgivable in my eyes, and I am known to fire multiple workers for costing my company loss of revenue. I hire the best, and it is written in the contract that they will not have a second chance if their mistake causes a significant loss.

  However, Aria is an exception. She makes at least one mistake every day. She has never been punished for them.

  “Not bad for your first try,” I muse while her hope diminishes with a slight tremble on her lips.

  Scrambling for the other sketches, I watch her flip through the papers and blue eyes darting to the details of the drawing that catches her attention. She slowly and very hesitantly turns it to me and smiles awkwardly, not too big to get her hopes up and not too grim to anger me.

  A year of working for me and she still thinks I’m going to get mad one day and fire her.

  “I never said it was not correct, little girl.”

  She pauses; her smile is frozen and a hint of anxiety flashes in her blue eyes as she swallows. That small movement has the collar of my shirt fall down her bare shoulder. The tantalizing skin makes my canines ache; I want to sink them into her scandalously flawless neck, and my tongue presses on one of the sharp canines to bring pain to control the rush of haziness that obscures my mind.

  “I’m sorry,” she breathes, tears gathering at her red-rimmed eyes.

  She had come into the office in tears, barely holding on to the thread of her confidence when I wasn’t there. Mrs. Lynch had been the one to
inform me that my little girl had come in to work upset and she was in the bathroom, soaked.

  I was ready to be angry at the rain for soaking her until I saw her spin around with her shirt up at an angle to get the heated air to dry the moisture.

  Her soft stomach and rounded eyes like a deer in headlights stole my breath away, and the damned Rolex that I had gifted her reflected off the lights and into my eyes; it made me stop myself from taking her against the sink.

  “I’ll do better, I promise.” A hiccup cuts off whatever she wants to say next.

  “Aria—”

  A sense of dream pummels down my stomach and guilt sneers at me, chewing at the back of my mind while my lungs punish me by cutting off half of the air supply.

  I should be kinder to her. I should never sound like an asshole to the one person who can make my heart run faster than a horse on steroids.

  It’s because she’s Aria, the little girl that I want so badly to hold in my arms. I want to make her look at me in tears and find everything she needs in me even if I’m the reason for her tears. She needs to know that she can rely on me, and I’m the only one in this world that will truly have her wellbeing in mind.

  No one cares about her more than I do.

  I swallow down my words and snake my arm around her neck to bring her to my chest; she falls perfectly in my embrace as her trembling body doesn’t move to accept my hug. I don’t expect her to since she is either in shock or she doesn’t even notice that it’s her damn boss taking advantage of this situation.

  Again, I’m not a good man.

  She is a sobbing mess when she drops the sketches and throws her arms around me. I am a big man, and a girl as small as her will have trouble hugging me with her short arms. She still tries, and I squeeze her tighter, pushing her perky tits to my hard muscles and burying my nose into the top of her head.

  The whiff of shampoo fills my lungs as my body greedily memorizes her body underneath my clothes.

  It took me everything in my power and prayer to every deity to not turn into the animal that I promised myself not to be when she’s graced in my presence, but then she came out with my clothes on her tiny body, and I knew that no one could save her from me.

  Not God, and certainly not the damn Devil even if it wants to drag me to hell for being a perverted, vile man.

  There is no indication that she is slowing down when she sniffles as her cries messily muffle in my shirt. Running a hand down her shivering spine, I feel her arch her plump little ass to bury her face into my chest.

  My hand stops just an inch away from her ass as I let her use me as support. Maybe if I was a man deprived of humanity, I would have used this chance to take this girl into a world of decadence and sin at this moment.

  I’m already one foot into filth; I might as well accept the inevitable.

  “I-I’m sorry, Mr. Simone. I’m really—your shirt is ruined!” she gasps, head jerking back with wide blue eyes.

  Tears roll around in her eyes and lips press tightly to stop the hiccup from coming out, but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel the restraint of the shortness of her breath on my body when she jolts.

  “It’s fine; Daddy isn’t angry.”

  Everyone has bad days and today is hers. I can never be mad at her for something she can’t control. It’s a good thing that everything has fallen in place for her to be in my arms, crying and vulnerable to the beast in me growling to mark her to show the world that this pretty little thing is mine.

  She has been mine the moment I saw her. I wanted to give her time to be comfortable in my presence, but then I realize that Aria is too inexperienced in these things and I have allowed her more freedom than I would have preferred.

  Aria’s shuddering breath comes to a stop as she makes a noise of confusion. Her blurry eyes blink up at me, and the slow withdrawal of her body is not appreciated when this is the first time I have her in my arms.

  “Excuse me?” she stammers, cheeks red and wet.

  “Are you done crying?”

  It was the question that shakes her to the bones, and I have no idea why since my voice has been the same. Nothing has changed, but the moment my eyes catch the reflection of my face in the mirror hanging on the hall, I can physically see the reason.

  I’m a man crazed and holding on the thin thread of integrity. The obsession shining through my black eyes is enough to scare me into jerking my attention back down to the frightened girl. She’s scared, lost, and absolutely delicious when Aria whispers my name so brokenly.

  I repeat the question.

  “Y-yeah!” she squeaks, whipping the tears from her eyes with the back of her hands.

  My arms tighten around her, and she must have realized the position we are in. It’s inappropriate and scandalous if anyone were to walk in and see an employee in the arms of her boss.

  I wouldn’t mind the media snapping a couple of pictures of us together. It would save a lot of time and effort to make sure everyone knows that Aria is mine.

  My parents would have a field day about grandchildren, but this time I don’t disagree with them. They have been hounding me for kids to bounce on their knees, and I have always told them that their arthritis couldn’t handle it.

  I would receive berating about never mentioning mature ladies and gentlemen’s ages. It keeps the mysterious love between them, and it takes me everything to not call out their bullshit and ask them to be on their honeymoon trip for the rest of their lives.

  This way, they won’t be here to take Aria’s time away from me.

  “I’m ready to work!” she says with conviction and false bravado.

  I pinch her cheek, rubbing the wetness on her red skin while savoring the bounciness of her rounded cheek. The pinch must have been harder as I let my strength be a bit loose. Aria winces and pleads for mercy with her expressive eyes.

  I will bring this world to its knees if she begs me with those eyes. If she wants me to liquidate my company and everything I own, I’d do it in a heartbeat and present her with raining cold, hard cash.

  “And—”

  I press down on her lips with my finger, tapping on the delicate flesh and holding back the desire to kiss her. That is for another time when she fully understands where we stand in our relationship.

  We are more than employee and boss, mentor and student—I have always been her Daddy, and she has never stopped being my little girl.

  “Never apologize for tears,” I say, and she releases a breath that she had been holding. “Only I can make you cry, little girl. I do not want to see you crying for anyone else.”

  “H-how’d you know—” she begins, whimpering as she wraps her small fingers around my wrist.

  “Daddy knows everything.”

  Her face erupts in flames; redness seeps down to her chest as the collar continues to expose her smooth shoulder to me.

  It’s a dangerous play on my part to have her in my clothes, but what’s an abhorrent man going to do when the opportunity presents itself so shamelessly?

  Incoherent noises filter from her pink lips. I’m concerned about the amount of information rolling around in her head, and I understand that this is going to be a lot for her to handle since an innocent, naïve pretty girl like her will never understand how deep this obsession in me goes.

  Further than Hell and deeper than the depths of the ocean, I have no idea how far I will go to keep her with me.

  Would I destroy everyone? Yes, and I will do more. Would I go against my parents if they don’t accept Aria? Without a shadow of a doubt. They may be my parents, and they may have brought me into the world full of their money, but I don’t take matters lightly when Aria is in the picture.

  Being disowned won’t be as terrible as losing the love of my life.

  “I don’t understand…” she murmurs, still blushing shyly.

  When she makes a move to get out of my embrace, I let her, but it shouldn’t give her an idea that this is a one-time thing. Aria is meant to be in my arm
s as they are there to protect her from the filth in this world.

  “You will,” I say, hand finding the thin measuring tape that I had set down on the table.

  I turn to her and lift the tape that’s been wrapped around my fingers, but I wish it was her gorgeous black hair between them as it would be easier to have her physically submit under me.

  “Come over here,” I say as I tip my head towards the side of the table that has fabric scattered everywhere.

  A couple of pencils lay on the ground with sketches in the spot where I had left them last night. This workspace is different from my office where I run my company through the computer; it’s clean and meticulously in order, unlike this place where I bring my clothes to life.

  “Get to work.” The command is clear as her body goes on autopilot.

  I love the power I have over her, and she doesn’t even know it. She has been trained to take every word from my mouth as if it is her only reason to live. I want her world to revolve around me; she wouldn’t have to worry about anything nor does she have to think about people who are poisonous in her life.

  She needs me.

  Aria comes up to me, shyly tugging on the hem of my cotton black shirt that I had let her use. The shirt lifts up to her soft stomach as I kneel down to bring my eyes to the fragile skin.

  Our routine is the same; daily measurements first to see how much she altered in one night if bloating happens, then I would have her fitted in a sample clothing to make adjustments, and I would snap photos of her to be sure there are no mistakes when I look over them.

  I make clothes for her. The style she is the most comfortable in is simple shirts and pants, but I’d be damned if I let her precious body be donned with cheap material. If she lets me, I will dress her in the finest silk.

  Though it’s not up to her to let me do whatever I want. I will do exactly what I want to do. Aria’s closet is filled with my designer clothes even if they’re made to look simple and casual, but they are of the highest quality of fabrics.

  Slowly, I have been infiltrating her life, and I can’t say I’m happy with the progress. It’s too slow, and I’m not a patient man.