by Nikki Wild
“I’ve missed you,” my voice betrayed me.
The thumb paused on the spot as something briefly clouded his features. What is that, regret? Guilt? Annoyance?
He didn’t speak, but his lip curled up into a faint half-smile. I sensed less distance in his gaze, and felt myself breathing again.
“Come,” he gestured inside with a nod.
I stepped aside as Damian strolled into the house of his biggest business rival like a predator scouting an abandoned den; from his clenched fist hung an elegant, slimmed black suitcase.
“Patrick’s kept up the place,” he noted.
“We had a maid for a while.”
“You don’t anymore?” He turned to face me, his features softening.
“Cutbacks, I guess.”
Damian nodded, looking around the foyer. I closed the door behind him, locking it again. When I turned back, there was a wistful, even saddened look in his face.
“It’s just like I remember it.”
Oh right, I recalled. He hasn’t stepped foot into this house in over six years…
I wasn’t sure what to say or how to react. My guest didn’t seem to notice; he turned on his heel, his professional black shoes lightly scraping the floor as he escorted his belongings straight towards our guest bedrooms.
Confused and thrown off, I embraced our great start by flopping back down on the couch with my paperback. From down the hall, I would occasionally hear him moving around as he unpacked.
After reading and re-reading the same three pages a few times, I heard him softly walk back my way. Damian paused in the doorway to the living room in his socks, blazer missing and button-up sleeves rolled to his elbows. His eyes, rife with nostalgia, quickly scanned the furniture and décor before settling on me again.
“Have you eaten yet?” He asked me.
I was so taken aback that I didn’t answer for a moment. “Oh… no, not yet. I’m kinda hungry, but I’ve been too lazy to whip anything up.”
A large smile crossed his face. “Do you still like your eggs over easy?”
I blinked then nodded.
He remembers that?
Damian clasped his hands together eagerly. “Good. Give me a few minutes to see how Patrick stocks his pantry, and I’ll whip us something up.”
With that, he disappeared off across the room and into the kitchen, leaving me to shake my head in total surprise.
What is going on?
Following him seemed unlikely to clear things up, so I reluctantly sunk back into the book. Sprawling out down the couch, I reread those three pages a final time before I heard him from the other side of the wall:
“Breakfast in twenty minutes, babe.”
“Thanks… Daddy,” I quickly added.
While I managed to clear my head to get back into the story, it wasn’t long before the telltale sizzle of fresh bacon beckoned, followed by the alluring aroma.
I ignored the siren call as best I could. After finally wrapping up the chapter, I set the book down and hopped up off of the couch.
Damian was wisely wearing a black apron over his expensive luxury clothes as I came around into the open kitchen. While he carefully sprinkled shredded cheese over an omelet in a pan, I dug out the place settings for two diners, putting the plates within his reach.
Focused on the cooking, he barely noticed as I poured us a glass of orange juice apiece, setting down linens and arranging the cutlery and glasses on the dining room table. I chose the end of the table for him, putting myself two chairs down on the side – next to father’s favourite spot at the other end.
I was just placing the glasses down when Damian walked into the room, a pair of breakfast platters in his hands. He set them down in the spots I’d chosen without a sound, but then hesitated as he placed his hand on his chair back.
“Ah. I knew I was forgetting something,” he clicked his fingers before turning to me. “Bring me today’s paper, please.”
Reluctantly, I swallowed my desire to cut loose and corner him over my questions and his strange behavior.
Instead, I nodded quietly, padding outside to the end of the walkway at the street. I brushed off some of the dew from the plastic wrapping, then brought the bundled newspaper inside.
Damian was sipping orange juice aloofly as I handed him the straightened newspaper. He gave me a warm smile as he took it from my hands and quickly shook it open, waiting for me to sit down before he took his first bite.
After I studied the surprisingly gourmet meal he’d improvised together, I glanced back his way. He was engrossed in the financial section and taking a few absentminded bites of breakfast.
“Go on, Princess,” he gazed over the top of the paper at me. “Eat up, and tell me what you think.”
I dug a fork into the crisp, seasoned sausage.
This is probably the strangest thousand dollars I’m ever gonna earn…
Chloe
There was only one read I could get on Damian throughout that meal, and it was the following: this man is a black belt in the kitchen.
Breakfast tasted as amazing as it looked. My father enjoyed throwing stuff together, and it usually even came out great, but Damian clearly knew how to put the spice drawer and garnishes to their best uses.
When he started getting low on orange juice, I excused myself to bring him a fresh glass. He gave me a warm, appreciative glance before burying himself back in the New York Times.
My heart fluttered a little at the approval, but I was still wary of his aloof behavior.
As if by instinct, he had prepared almost exactly enough food for me. I pushed in the last bite, rising to take his own empty plate and cutlery away to the dishwasher.
I set the greasy stovetop pans and pots into the sink, pouring some hot, soapy water to soak them for a while. The rustling of newsprint from the other room drew my attention just as I was washing my hands and coming back, and I almost bumped into Damian as he rounded the corner.
Approval was clearly stamped onto his face as he glanced over the freshly cleaned kitchen. I’d even had time to run a sponge over the granite countertops before the oil set. His smile widened.
I didn’t know why, but I liked it.
“I have some business I must attend to,” Damian turned back to me. “I’m afraid I’ll have to cut this session short, but I’ll be back late this evening. Around 8 o’clock.”
I nodded, even more curious and confused.
“When I come back for our second one, I’d like you to have dinner prepared. Something light.”
“Yes, Daddy,” I agreed.
His smile warmed, and he lifted my chin with a finger. Damian brushed a few bangs from my eyes with his thumb, then planted his lips on mine in a strong kiss for a few seconds.
“I love my Princess,” he spoke.
No matter how confused with him I was, or how furious I was with his lack of accountability in my feelings, I couldn’t stop those four little words from utterly crippling my resolve.
“I love you too, Daddy,” I whispered.
And goddammit, I meant it.
Within five minutes, he was dressed back up and out the door again, leaving me as home alone as I’d been the night before.
But this time, I didn’t have the luxury of sleep to fill my time. One quick glance at the discarded paperback and I knew I couldn’t concentrate on that, so I decided to take a walk around town.
Maybe, I reasoned, I can clear my head a little.
After all… that had been the entire point to choosing my old neighborhood for Spring Break…
Throwing on a light jumper and tying my hair back in a ponytail, I locked up and planted my sneakers towards nearby Walnut Street.
Shadyside had three distinct business districts, but Walnut Street was my favorite. It was renowned across all of Pittsburgh for its many enticing options in upscale shopping, fine dining, popular boutiques, and fantastic local restaurants.
Sure, they had your typical chain retailers. All the maj
or nationwide apparel stores enjoyed representation, everything you can think of from American Apparel to Victoria’s Secret. My father had taken me here sometimes as a kid, until he’d figured out that I was happier rummaging through thrift stores for my clothes.
Hell, the Apple store where he bought his work tech was even still here, as busy as ever.
After a couple of hours wandering through memory lane, and its generous shopping options, I sat down at my favorite old coffee shop with a warm mocha to relax and unwind.
That’s when it dawned on me.
I pulled out my phone and thumbed over to the Candy Companions app, checking through the notifications. Since my profile was still on private mode, I wasn’t receiving any updates that weren’t from Damian.
There were no new notifications since my last message to him, which meant…
I checked my bank balance.
No new transfers.
He didn’t pay me for this meeting.
Every other time he and I had come together, Damian paid me for my company by dropping a grand into my checking account. This time, however, he didn’t… and Damian Clarke did not strike me as the kind to forget.
I set my phone back down.
Now it all made sense.
He’s testing me!
My heart swelled with emotion. After all this time, he wanted to know if what we had was real.
I sipped the drink, my brain already piecing together a plan. There was still plenty of time before he came back home from his work…
I knew what I needed to do.
The minute hand was just shy of eight o’clock when the knocking came from the front, right on schedule. When I pulled the door open, Damian looked tired. His blazer was folded over his arm, and the top two buttons of his shirt were undone with his tie pulled down.
“Welcome home, Daddy.”
His eyes lit up, and he breathed in a small tug of air. “Babe, you’re a sight for sore eyes…”
I smiled fondly, briefly twirling my miniskirt for him. For tonight, I’d carefully chosen one of my high school cardigans, a paired blouse, and thigh-high socks beneath the shorted miniskirt I owned – one that my father would have killed me over, if he knew I had it.
Damian’s eyes hungrily traced my features, wolfishly taking in my young, nubile appearance. I couldn’t help but feel a slight shiver slide down my spine in response.
I stepped aside, taking his briefcase and locking up behind him. We set his blazer and case down on an end table in the foyer before I sat him at the table in his earlier spot – letting him notice that I had set my silverware at the chair to his side this time – and then briefly disappeared off to the kitchen.
While he might have been much more the maestro in an apron, I figured I’d done passably well on the dinner front. Luckily, my father kept a well-stocked kitchen, always in the vein of improvising up a meal.
Damian had asked for something light.
In response, I’d grilled up salmon filets in lemon pepper and spices, paired with asparagus stalks, roasted garlic potatoes, and a small side salad. I figured that it was healthy, not terribly complicated to make, and with room to be reasonably delicious.
I quietly removed the aluminum foil from the food I’d agonizingly plated to be as presentable as possible. Walking out with a small sway in my hips, I sat his down first, then took my seat next to him.
“This looks fantastic,” Damian turned to me with a soft grin.
“I hope you like it, Daddy.”
He leaned over briefly, his lips finding my temple. “No doubt in my mind that I will.”
Dinner went by smoothly. The food actually came out pretty damn good, and he seemed to sincerely appreciate the effort.
As we ate, Damian asked me about school; he listened attentively as I described my workload, my ambitions for graduate school, and what I wanted to do with my life.
“Advanced biochemistry is an interesting choice,” he noted, nodding to himself. “I always took you to be a lot more clever than you thought. Ever since you were a plucky little girl, buried in your books.”
It made me blush to consider that this man had watched me grow up.
With our strange relationship these past few months, in a lot of ways he had become two different men – the warm, handsome childhood crush who was working with my father, and now the confident, strict businessman who fucked me in his lavish office.
The air between us felt easier by the time that we finished dinner. I took our plates to the sink, rinsing them and sliding them into dishwasher. I briefly cleaned up a little more of the kitchen before heading off to find him.
Damian had made himself comfortable on the couch, already figuring out the remotes and getting Netflix pulled up. As I tried to decide where to sit, he glanced over with a smile and patted the spot next to him.
I climbed onto the seating and nestled up against him. Damian’s arm slid around me as he flicked through options.
“Comedy? Horror? Maybe action?”
“Hmm…” I pondered for a moment. “I’m feeling brave. Why don’t we try a horror film?” I quickly added: “Nothing too gory, though.”
“Works for me,” he grinned.
As he switched genres and began checking out what was available, I cuddled a little closer to him. Despite already spending a large amount of my free time doing exactly this, it felt like an entirely difference experience with him.
I also realized that we’d never curled up together like this before, and my heart skipped a little beat.
“How’s this look?”
I lifted my head, reading the description.
“That’ll do.”
The film turned out to be a psychological thriller, which I was perfectly fine with. Those kinds of movies rarely ever got to me. More than anything, I found them fascinating, even if they were always overly cheap with jump scares.
While we watched the movie, his hand massaged my opposite shoulder; my palm wound up against his hard chest, feeling his heartbeat. We gave running commentary on the ridiculous protagonist and all the horrible, obvious mistakes he was making as he tried to figure out why he’d woken up in an abandoned insane asylum with a couple of total strangers – and apparently, one of them was the bad guy.
The whole thing made for entertaining talk as we pointed out the two times everyone could have gotten away, made fun of their awfully overdone accents, and guessed at where the jump scares were going to come in.
It ended with a satisfying twist, at least.
“That would have been a lot less fun without you,” he laughed when it was over. His hand was still clasped around my opposite shoulder. “Did you want to watch another?”
I briefly mulled over my brazenness.
Now or never, I thought to myself.
“Actually…”
Damian turned to me, his other fist crooked under his chin. There was unmistakable warmth in the way he glanced at me.
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“I have an idea, Daddy,” I smiled innocently.
As he lifted an eyebrow, I slipped up from the couch and took him by the hand. With my heart fluttering, I led him out of the living room and up the hallway. But instead of stopping at his bedroom, I pulled him up the stairs… and instead of stopping at my bedroom, I walked him down the turn in the hall.
Nervously, I opened the door to my father’s room, then let go of his hand and sat myself on the foot of his bed, an array of candles on all surfaces. I’d carefully placed them before he returned home; during a quick bathroom break right before the film’s climax, I’d snuck away to light them. The effect worked for the ambience, and the room was bathed in flickering light along the edges.
The bed was a powerful altar in the darkness… an altar upon which I would now offer everything to this powerful, formidable man who I needed and craved.
Mustering the most seductive look I could, I locked eyes with Damian Clarke and whispered…
“Fuck me, Daddy…”<
br />
As he closed the door behind himself and slowly stepped towards me, Damian’s face was swallowed with an approving, authoritative, and visibly hungry expression…
Chloe
Every footstep that Damian Clarke made, advancing across my father’s bedroom towards me, felt like another little promise.
The promise of fears wiped away.
The promise of pleasures granted.
The promise of anticipation rewarded.
My bottom lip sucked between my teeth. For all my young, flirty confidence, I began to feel small before him as his eyes traced my bare arms, the exposed skin of my thighs.
His hand cupped over my shoulder, the fingers brushing against my skin. Just his touch sent small jolts down to my core.
Standing at the foot of the bed, his musky cologne worked their pheromone magic on me. Looking up into those dark eyes, the restrained need uncoiled itself slowly, daring to come to the foreground.
“Daddy…” I whispered.
His hand left my shoulder, brushing my cheek softly, even tenderly. I pushed my face into it, taking it in both hands as I nuzzled against the muscles of his hand.
“I have missed you,” he groaned.
Meeting his gaze, I somehow found that I could not deny he was telling the truth. I believed his sincerity, felt it in even the slightest touch of his skin.
Damian Clarke had a lot to answer for, and I would not let him off the hook so easily. That time was going to come.
But it would not be tonight.
His hand was at the back of my head, fingers threading into my hair. He stepped closer, his belt practically at eye level, and I knew in the moment what I wanted.
“I missed you too, Daddy,” I whispered as I placed my hands to his waist, unclasping and unbuckling the belt.
He was already hard in his designer slacks. I wondered if he had nursed a stiff cock ever since I’d answered the front door as a perfect snapshot of my high school senior year.
The slacks fell to the floor as I took his hard cock in my hand, stroking it lightly. A bead of precum had already formed at the tip, and I savored it. I licked it from his crown with a single flick of my tongue, my doe eyes locked onto his.