by Mia Madison
Table of Contents
Chapter TWO
Chapter THREE
Chapter FOUR
Chapter FIVE
Chapter SIX
Chapter SEVEN
Chapter EIGHT
Chapter NINE
Chapter TEN
Chapter ELEVEN
Chapter TWELVE
Chapter THIRTEEN
Chapter FOURTEEN
Chapter FIFTEEN
Chapter SIXTEEN
Chapter SEVENTEEN
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Epilogue
Bossy Daddy
A Steamy Billionaire Older Man Office Romance
by
Mia Madison
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. Thank you for respecting the rights of the author.
Copyright © 2017 Mia Madison. All rights reserved. Including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof, in any form. No part of this text may be reproduced in any form without the express written permission of the author.
Version 2017.3.31
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Bossy Daddy
Chapter TWO
Chapter THREE
Chapter FOUR
Chapter FIVE
Chapter SIX
Chapter SEVEN
Chapter EIGHT
Chapter NINE
Chapter TEN
Chapter ELEVEN
Chapter TWELVE
Chapter THIRTEEN
Chapter FOURTEEN
Chapter FIFTEEN
Chapter SIXTEEN
Chapter SEVENTEEN
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Epilogue
About the Author
Bossy Daddy
Chapter One
Carly
I'm determined to get this job. I will have it. Not that it's my lifelong dream to be an intern at a shipping company but I'm also determined to prove them both wrong.
My parents. Who've been married more times than I have fingers and still keep getting it wrong. At least they taught me that love is hopeless, love is hard. Why couldn't they have simply stayed married to each other and not keep trading up to a richer-slash-younger new model? Every partner's the same, right? Each guy I've dated has been interchangeable with the previous and the next. I could have just stayed with any one of them, although I didn't. And that only makes Mom and Dad come down on me more.
“You need to start planning for the future,” Daddy tells me. “You know I love you, Baby Girl, but you can't hang around the house all day once Amanda moves in.”
Soon-to-be wife number six.
“Why not?” I pout.
Yeah I know I'm too old to pout and it's not that I wanna be a brat, but it sometimes seems like it's expected. Does that make sense? You put on a role at some point in your life and then it stays wrapped around you like a heavy winter coat in springtime. You want nothing more than to shake it off, but you've got nowhere to stash it.
“Because you need to focus on your future. You can't sit around fixing your nails and drinking frappuccinos.”
“Lattes. And what's Amanda gonna be doing all day?”
“Don't sass me. She's going to be my wife. You need to think about a job.”
And then from the other side -
“Make yourself look nice. No man's going to want you with your hair in a scraggly mess. Get a blow out.”
That's Mom. A job to her means securing a rich husband so she can sit home all day drinking lattes.
Last year she married her fourth husband. Better than the third but absolutely no comparison to the second, Smith Kennedy -Yum. That man was the hottest thing walking. I was only sixteen when they got together and most of the time I lived at my dad's house rather than with my mom.
But when I was with her, even I could see he was a dreamboat. His stunning face, his muscles all carved out and bulging. After he moved in, he put a home gym into the basement so he could work out after hours. He always came home very late from his office and, damn, if I didn't get out of bed and sneak downstairs to take a peep at him flexing all that power.
With every tug on the weight load, his muscles would tense and bulge out hard. Like he was in a personal battle with the machine. And Smith was determined to win. He was a very determined man in a lot of things, mostly about getting what he wanted. I'd hear him on the phone giving orders to an employee at one of his various businesses and it gave me goosebumps.
“This is what I need you to do.” The commanding tone of his voice as he instructed someone in no uncertain terms was thrilling.
But there was never a more tingling sensation in my skin as when I watched him on the weight machines. He wore loose gym shorts, slung low on his narrow hips. I had a full view of his thick thighs with the ropes of entwined muscle bristling beneath the skin. His tee was loose too, cutaway at the shoulder to enhance and expose the amazing strength in his swelling biceps and pectorals.
And after a while of me standing hidden at the edge of the door, watching and making every attempt not to drool, sweat would prick up across Smith's smooth skin. The room began to fill with the heady aroma of masculinity. The tee marked with stripes of dampness and a glistening sheen covered his bulging tendons. And suddenly I had some serious throbbing starting up between my thighs.
For my Mother's freaking husband.
Hell.
First time that happened, I dashed back up to my room and put Smith right out of my mind. With no little effort too. In the morning, he grabbed coffee to head out like always.
“Good morning, Carly,” was all he ever said.
That morning, after the night before, my cheeks flushed with red hot burning. He looked at me strangely, with a dimpling at his cheeks as he tried not to smile, but politely ignored my silly humiliation. I trailed my stare up from beneath my lowered lashes, to check out how those muscles fit inside his smooth white cotton shirt. It was made to measure, obviously, and the cut hugged close to his carved ridges so that I had to swallow a gasp of admiration.
Every night after that I lay awake, listening for Smith's return home. The only one that waited for him, because my mother would go to bed like she could care less whether he came back or not. I lay breathlessly in wait, desperate to see him. Hoping for another smile, and so much more. I tip-toed downstairs and watched his workout with my clit flexing in time with every jerk of his ferociously stacked muscle. It was beyond embarrassing to be crushing all over my mom's husband, barely a couple of years younger than my Dad. But it was also addictive.
“Ohmigod your step dad is so freaking sexy,” my friend, Bree, said when she picked me up in her new car.
Christ, I'd asked her to go to the mall with me so I could share before I exploded. Not to hear her forbidden fantasies.
“I'd do him in a second,” she added.
“Eww,” I said, pretending to be grossed out.
While at the same time hoping to cover up my little flare of annoyance. Hello, jealousy, where did you spring from without my per
mission?
“Yeah, you can't think that, of course. He's your step-dad, but me, hell yeah, I want some Sugar Daddy.”
“He's not at all sweet,” I informed her. Because I knew better than her. “He's actually really controlling. Didn't you hear him tell me to put on a scarf. And be back by ten?”
“Yeah, so bossy. So hot and sexy. That husky voice. Imagine him telling you to take off your panties in that commanding tone, all rasping and needy.”
“Jeezus, Bree,” I snapped.
Except that was exactly what I was doing- and more.
After that first time, I couldn't fight it any more. I watched Smith take out his tension on the heavy load on the weight machine, his muscular frame flexing and ripping. One time he raised his gorgeous dark eyes and looked straight at me. I was sure he saw me, but his face didn't betray a sign and then he looked back down to move the pin to increase the weight load.
I rushed back up to my room before he emerged from the gym and discovered me. I had no excuse to be down there late at night. If he caught me I'd have had to admit to him how much I wanted him. I'd have had to beg him to pull my sleep tee up until my newly filled out breasts popped free. I'd have had to plead with him to squeeze each swollen globe in his huge hands and command me to do what ever he wanted with my body.
Up in my room, my hands flew down between my thighs and parted my soaking lips. My clit was bulging out, hungry for Smith's touch and eager to explode in gushes of pleasurable relief. I had to let Smith know how I felt. There was no other way. I had to know whether he felt anything too. Because surely I couldn't be having these sensations in a vacuum.
But my father arrived to take me home the next day and when I came back to stay with Mom, Smith was gone.
Chapter TWO
Smith
I recognize her the instant my eyes land on her perfect soft curves. I haven't seen Carly in at least five years. And there hasn't been a single day that her delicious little body hasn't filled my thoughts. Wondering what's happening in her life. Whether she grew up and turned out like that B of a mother of hers. What a nightmare on legs – a real shrew.
“I need more money to run this house as you expect,” was a phrase I heard more than any terms of endearment.
More than 'let me get on my knees and take that beautiful cock in my mouth'. The kind of talk a man expects to hear from his new wife when he comes home at the end of a hard day managing millions.
“All I expect is a woman that's glad to see me when I arrive,” I told her and received a nose shrivel in response.
It was clear before we even got done with the ceremony that Diana had married me for my money. She fended me off before the wedding, saying she was saving herself. Like she was some born again virgin princess. After, she showed herself to be frigid and uninterested in my offers to help her overcome that.
I could have insisted. I could have ordered her to strip for me. But I was already battling the urgent need to swivel my eyes and stare at the beautiful girl standing at her side.
“This is my daughter, Carly,” Diana said. “Don't worry she won't be around much. She lives with her father three weeks in four.”
“Now you can finally offer a proper family environment again, Carly is welcome to come live with us,” I told her, not liking the vibe one bit.
That a mother would take that tone to her teenage daughter. I saw the wince of pain that Carly couldn't hide, when her mother said she wouldn't be around. Like it was me that didn't want her there.
I came to exist solely for the arrival of that week in the month.
I came to spend the other three weeks increasingly on edge for the smell of her sweet aroma and sound of her gentle voice asking me if this or that was okay. I even hungered for the challenge in her eyes when she wanted her way.
When she wasn't looking, I drank her all in, every part of her. Such a beautiful young girl. So demure and willing to please. Such a naughty rebellious side as well. Such a hot little body just waiting to be plucked apart by some lucky bastard. If only it could have been me.
But of course it couldn't. I'm a bastard but I'm not a douchebag. She was my wife's daughter. Even if that marriage was a sham from the first moment, I'd never be a dog.
And then one night I saw her.
It was very late. Diana had gone to bed like always. Locking herself in her bedroom before I ever came home. Fine by me. Nothing I wanted there anyways. I just gave her the cash to pay the bills and that was the extent of our interaction. I threw myself into the home gym I'd built in the basement, working off my pent up disappointments until I built up a dripping sweat.
I was sitting on the adductor, pressing over a hundred pounds. About the weight of the girl watching me, hidden. My heart was pounding with exertion, when I looked up briefly and noticed a flicker of pink at the door frame. That was all it took to get my dick standing up granite hard in my shorts. I was commando, having thrown off my suit and everything else as soon as I came home.
That made it worse. The huge bastard swaying and shoving against the fabric, clamoring to be set loose and in pursuit of the sweetest little pussy it had ever plunged into.
And lets face it, there had been a shit ton of those.
But none remotely like Carly.
I could clearly picture her bare legs walking across the gym toward me. Her naked tits under her sleep shirt bouncing with every step. Jesus holy fuck, I wanted her climbing on top of my thighs, straddling me right there where I sat at the adductor machine. I needed her soft lips tipping down to press into mine as I yanked that tee up her body and watched her tits bounce free. I yearned to pinch her round rosy buds until they peaked hard and she gasped from the pain. And then let out a breath of desire for more of the same, as the pleasure flooded through her small body to the very edges of her.
I wanted to lick across her bullet points and suck them between my lips, increasing her need for me even more. Only then, only when she was breathless and begging would I pull her loose shorts, the ones she always slept in, winter and summer, to one side and part her tender lips.
“Yes,” she'd murmur. “Yes, like that, Daddy.”
“Call me, Smith,” I'd tell her and she'd immediately do as I said.
“Yes, Smith,” her voice so kitteny soft and filled with longing. “Just like that, Daddy.”
Fuck, it was so wrong. How badly I wanted her whispering my name as I pressed between her outer lips and found her quivering point nestled in her soaking folds, jutting out with hunger for my touch. How I wanted to be the one to thrust a finger into her tight little pussy and feel her tense up from the newness of it, the unexpected jolt of pain. And still she'd beg for more of me.
My dick just about igniting, I looked up to find another glimpse of her almost bare body, but she'd disappeared. Sitting there, half panting with lust, I heard the soft creak of the stairs as she flittered away from me.
Holy shit, I was ready to fucking explode.
I headed straight into the shower – an ensuite locker room I'd also installed in my man cave. I shoved the loose shorts down my shaking thighs and stepped out of them into the shower, already stroking my huge shaft of burning wood. Can you imagine shoving that massive bastard inside her tight little pussy?
Oh fuck, that's exactly what I did. Picking up the pace of the thrust and pressure fast until I exploded against the dark marble tile in an endless gush I wished was filling her, instead of swirling down the drain.
I'm a monster I admit it.
Thank fuck, Carly left the house the next day. I doubt I could have kept my hands off her next time I was working out and she came to spy on me.
I spent a week in desperate need – thinking of her night and fucking day. Until her mother and I got into one massive flare up. With no reason she accused me of banging my secretary and I left.
Now here she is. Little Carly all grown up, sitting outside human resources with a slew of other girls the same age. Her body is even more explosive than I remember, e
ven in the ordinary white blouse and dark blue skirt, she looks smoking.
My cock unfurls and begins to spring into action, just from the sight of her. And I'm not the sort of asshole that gets a bone every time he walks past a girl half his age. Just this one. My Carly. Still my little girl.
Chapter THREE
Smith
I walk into the conference room where my management team are waiting to give me a briefing.
“The third quarter's figures are looking-”
I hold up my hand to silence Andrew Weatherall before he gets started with the boring but essential update.
“What's going on out there in the hall?” I ask Pandora Oxley, sitting in on this to take the minutes.
She looks up at me nervously. Surprised that I'd be speaking to her at all. The big boss. My reputation is pretty fierce around here, so I'm told. The women tend to flush with high color in their cheeks when I stride through the offices on my occasional visit.
I get it – handsome, hung and loaded. They're all hoping I'll notice them and they'll get their chance to get on their knees for the boss. But they also know I'm demanding, with needs that must be met. How that little bit of gossip wormed its way out and spread around the company like brushfire I have no clue. But I can't help but find it entertaining.
“Um, the interviews for the new intake of interns,” she says, her voice trembling just a little. “Do you want me to tell them to take it somewhere else, Sir?”
“No, not necessary,” I bark.
I don't mean to make her startle but I'm on edge. My balls are fucking blue suddenly. And all I can think of is ordering that someone bring Carly into this conference room while I send this mess of corporate junkies out on a break. Then I'll bend my stepdaughter, ex stepdaughter, across the long table and hike that boring skirt up, until her perfectly round smooth cheeks are bared for my heavy hand.
Perhaps I'm slightly deranged, thinking about a girl I haven't seen in years in this way. No longer a girl though, Carly's rounded out into a perfect young woman just ripe for claiming. And squeezing. And licking my tongue along the length of.