Filthy Daddy (Her Billionaire's Baby Book 3)

by Ellie Wild

  But not the new Caleb Preston. The new Caleb Preston took his time. The new Caleb Preston loved the challenge rather than the easy lay.

  Daisy had made a fair point at dinner. Men and women do treat intimacy different. But it was not for the reason she thought.

  The problem wasn’t that people have casual sex, it was that people have sex too casually. People settle for unfulfilling sex. Men have gotten lazy about pleasing women. And women have grown complacent in accepting mediocrity.

  I could tell that Daisy was like me. She was a cynic. She had been burned enough times to put up her walls, and to convince herself that every man she met was the Big Bad Wolf. She had made up these rules for sex and love to try to rationalize something that could not be rationalized. Passion wasn’t a currency. It was not a regulated exchange.

  The only thing preventing Daisy from having the kind of passionate, fulfilling, mind-melting sex that she considered impossible, was her own stubborn reluctance to demand it.

  And that was why I was taking her to The Rose Club.

  “Where are we?” Daisy asked, glancing up at the nondescript exterior of the club as we cross onto Fifth Avenue.

  “I told you, it’s a surprise.”

  “This better not be some sort of creepy sex club,” she said dryly, and I flicked my eyes down at her.

  “Come on, Miss Wright,” I whispered, leaning down so my lips brushed her neck. I already knew that she liked that. I was about to find out what else she liked. “Let your hair down, live a little. We all need a little kink in our lives.”

  “Kink?” she gulped, and I gave her an encouraging nip on her neck.

  “Relax. This isn’t about doing anything you’re not comfortable doing. It’s about opening your mind to new things.”

  She looked up at me reluctantly, and I knew she was trying to find the last shred of willpower to resist. I snuck my arm around her waist, pulling her closer to me.

  “Just for tonight,” I suggested, “Why don’t you be the student instead of the teacher?”

  We finally reached the doors to the club, and Jimmy eyed us both, then offered me a familiar nod.

  “Evening, Mr. Preston,” he said, then he turned to inspect Daisy. “Hello, Beautiful.”

  Daisy blushed, pressing up closer to me. Jimmy meant well, but he could be intimidating, especially when he was decked from head to toe in a leather biker’s jacket and riding chaps. This wasn’t boding well for Daisy’s perception of The Rose Club, and the last thing she needed right now is to feel even more on edge.

  Luckily Jimmy could take a hint, and he lifted the black velvet rope and ushered us inside.

  We were immediately met by the thumping of music playing from the main floor, but I directed Daisy towards the elevators.

  “Is this the right way?” she asked, confused, pointing in the direction of the dance floor.

  “Unless you want to writhe around on the dance floor,” I said flatly, knowing neither of us are the type to enjoy that sort of thing.

  “No,” she confirmed. “But… what’s upstairs?”

  “Something better,” I hinted vaguely. “Do you trust me?”

  My hand was hovering over the ‘up’ arrow button that summoned the elevator, but I waited for her answer before pressing it.

  She eyed me appraisingly.

  “Yes.”

  “Good,” I said. “When you’re in here, nothing else matters. You can be anybody you want, and you can do anything you want. Nobody will judge you. Tonight is all about listening to your body and learning your own desires. You shouldn’t do anything you don’t want.”

  She took a deep breath, then nodded.

  “Ok,” she said, then she reached out and pushes the elevator button herself.

  Good girl.

  The Rose Club’s third floor was one of the most exclusive destinations in New York City. So exclusive, that only the intimate list of members even know that it existed. But Daisy didn’t know any of that when the elevator doors shut and I swiped my gold card to access the third floor.

  I tucked my arm back around her waist, pulling her closer to me.

  “Don’t be shy,” I whispered, just as the elevator ‘dings’ at the third floor. The doors slid open, and we stepped out.

  Daisy immediately fell into my arms as her eyes went wide, and I couldn’t blame her. The third floor would intimidate anyone on their first visit. The space sprawled out like a lounge, dripping in sensual blue light. There was a W-shaped stage centered in the room where women dance slowly around poles as a light mist rains down from the ceiling, blanketing their nude bodies in thousands of little dots of water that sparkle like diamonds in the blue spotlights.

  There were long, winding tufted bronze sofas curving around the stage, and many of these were occupied by fellow Gold Card members. I scanned over tonight’s crowd, and tried to imagine how it looked through Daisy’s eyes. One guy was reclined on one bench between two hot blondes, and he was taking turns kissing both of them.

  I turned and saw a woman dressed in leather lead her date into the room on a leash. He was stripped naked besides the bedazzled chastity cage around his waist.

  On another sofa, there was a man watching, aroused, as his girlfriend straddled a bronzed bodybuilder.

  I glanced at Daisy, wondering if I’d made a mistake. If this was too much. But when I saw her face, she doesn’t look disgusted or terrified. She looked fascinated; curious.

  “Why don’t we go somewhere a little more private?” I suggested. “Unless… you enjoy watching?”

  She shook her head. “Somewhere private.”

  I traced my hand down the curve of her hip, lingering over her deliciously round ass, then I took her hand and led her towards the private cabanas that border the room.

  I guided her onto the edge of the bed, then I turned to draw the curtains of the cabana shut, removing us from the rest of the club and creating our own private little bubble.

  I turned back to the bed, but I didn’t step towards her. I wouldn’t until she asked me to.

  “Come here,” she said on cue. She was learning quickly.

  I immediately compiled, taking a step towards the bed, but I did not touch her yet.

  “I need to tell you something,” she said, looking up at me. I saw the hint of hesitation in her face, and I got down on my knees so I could look her straight in the eyes.

  Even in the blue light of the room, I could see that she was blushing furiously, but I was not going to let her make excuses now.

  “Tell me,” I said. “Don’t be shy.”

  “I’ve never had an orgasm before.”

  I waited, wondering if there was more that she wanted to reveal, but she remained quiet.

  “Do you want to change that?” I asked finally. She took a deep breath, and then she nodded slowly.

  “Daisy, are you sure that’s what you want?”

  “Yes,” she said, and that time I could tell she wanted it because she was gnawing desperately at her bottom lip. She needed me to touch her. And I needed to taste her. Our lesson could wait. After all, how could Daisy learn how to play the game, if she didn’t even know what prize she was playing for?

  Staying on my knees, I pressed her back onto the bed. All the blood in my body had gone straight to my cock, and the selfish side of me wanted to slam inside her and fuck her brains out. But then I would only prove that she was right about men, about sex, about fulfillment.

  So instead I forced myself to use restraint, to go slow as I slid the narrow waist of her skirt over her hips and down her thighs. I was less patient when I found her tights underneath. I pressed her knees apart and ducked down, biting the soft flesh of her inner thigh through the nylon. Her entire body contracted, startling from the pleasure of my mouth, from the pain of my bite.

  She was going to have to get used to that. Pleasure and pain. It was a package deal with me.

  I stabbed a finger through the lining of her tights and the thin webbed material tor
e easily, gaping apart to reveal her soaking wet panties.

  I couldn’t wait to feel my tongue explore inside of her, but I teased her first. I pressed my lips against her lace thong, and bit through the fabric.

  She was panting now, and her hands were shaking from the effort of holding herself up.

  “Relax,” I told her, pushing her shoulders back onto the mattress. For a second I keep my body pressed on top of her, pressing my hard cock against her thin lace panties.

  “Are you going to fuck me?” she asked, quivering with need.

  “Not yet,” I said. “You’re not ready for that.”

  I pressed up the hem of her blouse, and took one heaving breast into my palm and gave it a gratuitous squeeze that was just as much for my benefit as it was hers. Then I slid back down between her thighs, which spilled open easily for me.

  I hooked my thumb under the thin lace strand of her thong, plunging my fingers between her drenched lips, then I yanked the fabric down and, because I couldn’t resist her any longer, I buried my face into her perfect juicy pussy.

  She was so wet that my tongue slipped easily inside of her hot folds, and she tasted even sweeter than I imagined. I lap up her excitement, filling my mouth with her juices as her back arched and she let out a moan.

  “Oh God,” she panted, thrashing against the bed when I found her clit with my tongue. “Caleb, I… I…”

  I bit gently onto her clit, then relieved the flash of pain by suckling softly on her lips. She pressed her hips forward, needing more, and I flicked her clit again with my tongue as I slipped a finger into her slick, tight and throbbing entrance.

  And then her entire body stiffened, and she let out one final gasp before going silent. Stunned and powerless as the orgasm claimed her entire body.

  I kept my fingers pressed inside of her, intensifying the hot contractions of her climax by digging my fingertip into her soft insides.

  More moans escaped he lips as I flicked my tongue back and forth over her clit. Her whole body began to shake and her legs clamped around my neck.

  “Oh Caleb!”

  I didn’t stop until I felt the orgasm leave her, and her hips sink back onto the bed. Then I stopped and let her lick the remnants of her pleasure from my fingers.

  Once she had caught her breath, she turned to me.

  “Now what?”

  “That’s enough for one night,” I said. She needed to pace herself.

  We both did.

  10

  DAISY

  I didn’t mean to throw open the door to the headmaster’s office, but I was so high-strung that I let my nerves get the best of me. I could not remember the last time I had such a bad case of the Mondays. In the few hours since I got to Bellamy Day that morning, I had already managed to spill coffee on my work shirt, drop an entire jar of bright blue finger paint in the supply closet, and slam my fingers into the desk drawer in my classroom, which resulted in yet another blooper for the day, teaching my entire classroom of students a new vocabulary word for the week -- “SHIT!”

  I blamed Monday, but I knew that the real reason that I was flustered was because I was still caught up on Friday night. I had been replaying what happened in that private room at the club with Caleb, and I could not get the image out of my head. Every time I thought about it, my entire body flushed with heat and I felt my heart start to race. I had never felt so out of control in my life. And I have never felt so connected to someone, either.

  Of course I would not admit that Caleb was right. I would not concede. And I definitely, definitely could not see him again.

  My mind was already racing with thoughts, and getting called into Mr. Richmond’s office was the last thing I needed.

  The door clattered when I opened it, striking into the wall, and Mr. Richmond glares up with a beady set of eyes.

  “Have a seat, Miss Wright,” he instructed, pointing at an empty chair in front of his desk. The seat next to it was occupied by a plain woman in a cheap pea-green suit that told me, before I even caught a glimpse of the name badge clipped to her lapel, that she was a CPS caseworker.

  I quietly took a seat and crossed my ankles, wondering what this this is about. When I worked back at that school in Brooklyn, CPS visits were an almost weekly occurrence. There were far more seldom at Bellamy. I couldn’t even remember the last time I found myself sitting in on an investigation.

  “I apologize for having to call you away from your class,” Mr. Richmond said to me. “But Miss Peters here thought it might be urgent that we discuss the status of one of your students.”

  Oh shit, I thought, picturing the students in my classroom and trying to work out which one is the subject of this investigation.

  “It’s about a student named Emmy Preston,” Miss Peters said, turning to me with pursed lips.

  “What?” I was caught off guard. There was already an open investigation with her mother. Why was this woman here now?

  Miss Peters blinked at me, and I noticed that she’s wearing that generic, faux-sympathetic expression on her face.

  “Some parents have expressed concern over things that their children have overheard from Emmy,” Mr. Richmond said, clearing his throat.

  “Like what?”

  “Apparently Emmy has been bragging to other students about her new apartment,” Miss Preston snipped, still eyeing me. “At The Camden.”

  “Yes,” I nodded, trying to keep my cool. “That’s where her uncle lives. And as I’m sure you’re well aware, Miss Peters,” I made a point of narrowing my eyes at her, “Her uncle has been awarded emergency custody of Emmy for the time being.”

  “That’s correct,” Mr. Richmond nodded. “But some parents are concerned that the Preston’s lifestyle might not be in keeping with the morals and values we try to instill here at Bellamy.”

  I felt the heat of anger prickle up my neck, and I turned to the social services caseworker.

  “That’s ridiculous!” I said. “You can’t possibly agree with that!”

  “I’m concerned with the child’s well-being,” Miss Peters said calmly, her eyes vacant and devoid of genuine compassion. “And if other parents are concerned that Emmy is a bad influence on their children, then I have to be concerned about that, too.”

  “That’s so unfair,” I turned back to Mr. Richmond. “You’re going to punish a child because of where her uncle lives?”

  “Nobody is punishing anyone,” Mr. Richmond assured me. “But I’m sure we can all agree that someone with Mr. Preston’s reputation and lifestyle could be seen as an unfavorable influence on students.”

  “We’ve just called this meeting to keep an eye on the situation,” Miss Peters said. She was trying to placate me, but I did not want to be placated. I did not want to be talked down to, and I certainly did not want to be lectured on ‘morals’ and ‘values,’ from the same school administrator that blindly accepted tuition checks from Wall Street thieves and drug addicts.

  “Mr. Preston is perfectly fit to care for his niece,” I said flatly.

  “It seems you would know,” Mr. Richmond snapped.

  I gulped, waiting for him to elaborate.

  “Some students also reported that Emmy was bragging about you going home with her to Mr. Preston’s apartment,” Miss Peters said.

  “That’s true,” I admitted. “I wanted to make sure she was safe and comfortable…”

  “Miss Wright,” Mr. Richmond said firmly, “I shouldn’t need to remind you that we have procedures in place for these kinds of things.”

  “I’m well aware,” I snapped back. “And if CPS had actually answered my phone calls, I might have been able to follow that procedure properly. I was doing what I thought was best for everyone.”

  “I appreciate your dedication,” Mr. Richmond sighed, “But it can’t happen again. There are boundaries, Miss Wright, and they exist for a reason. Teachers and parents do not mingle outside of this school. Do you understand?”

  I felt the pressure of both Mr. Richm
ond Miss Peters glaring at me, and I nodded.

  “I understand.”

  I understood… but that didn’t mean I had to agree.

  11

  CALEB

  “Are you ready to see how the cookies turned out?” I asked, beaming down at Emmy.

  “Yes!” she squealed. Her arms were buried in a pair of ballet pink oven mitts, one of the many items she hand-selected when I took her shopping for decorations for her room, and she eyed the built-in kitchen oven eagerly.

  “Ok, stand back,” I said, opening the oven door slowly and blocking the wave of heat that simmered out. I reached for the tray of cookies inside and pulled them out, and the eager anticipation on Emmy’s face immediately melted when she saw what thirteen minutes at 350 degrees has done to the pink heart-shaped sugar cookies we carefully shaped with cookie cutters.

  “Yikes,” I laughed it off, dropping the tray of failures on top of the gas range stovetop. I peeled off my own oven mitt, which was also, inexplicably pink, and I scratched my head thoughtfully. “What could we have done wrong? We followed the recipe to the T.”

  “I bet Miss Daisy will know,” Emmy shrugged, putting on a brave face to hide her disappointment.

  “You’re right,” I nodded. “Maybe she can help us make another batch sometime.”

  Emmy’s face lit up at the suggestion, and before she could get too excited, I glanced at my watch.

  “Enough lollygagging, we’re going to be late!” I picked up the pink backpack that we already packed for tonight’s slumber party, and I looped it around my shoulder. “Let’s go!”

  Emmy clapped her hands in delight, and she skipped across the wooden floor towards the elevator. She has been looking forward to tonight all week. Tonight was the night of Morgan Richie’s slumber party.

  Technically there was no reason to rush. Morgan was Aaron Richie’s daughter, and Aaron lived just a few floors down. Which meant the party was just an elevator ride away. But it was not the party I was worried about. It was the ‘non-date’ I arranged with Daisy afterwards.