Always My Babygirl: A Billionaire Romance

by Jane Henry

  “Please, spank me. Daddy.”

  With those words, my whole world becomes brighter, more vivid, full color. I’m not only asking him for what I need, what I’ve secretly been craving all these years.

  I’m finally being honest with myself.

  Running a daddy escort service isn’t just a business to me but an unfulfilled dream. Deep down, past all the lies I tell myself, I know there is a hidden truth that I can no longer deny.

  I want a daddy of my own. To love me… spoil me when I’m good. Spank me when I’m bad. To take care of me. To help me take care of myself.

  His hand comes down again. Harder this time. The stinging burn spreads across my skin. I take in a sharp breath, pulling the air between my teeth.

  He spanks again. And again. And again.

  The warmth turns to fire. The prickling sting to pain. For a split second, I wonder, have I gotten this all wrong? Is this really what I want?

  But then he’s back with his firm palm. His chastising words. Spanking me with steady, smarting smacks as he speaks. “Naughty, naughty girl. Having to go over her daddy’s lap like this for not listening.” He pauses, massaging the tender, heated skin, and his words are like melted caramel. “Do you think you can be good now? Do you think you can do what daddy says?”

  What did he even want me to do in the first place? Why did he decide to spank me? I remember the feeling of taking off my clothes. Standing before him bare. His commanding words.

  I want you to touch yourself. Now. “Touch myself?”

  He strokes my punished flesh, making the tingling move from my ass to between my legs. He leans down, his words dirty and shocking as they tickle my ear. “Or do you need your daddy to do it for you?”

  Yes. Yep. A-ha. That.

  Relief and desire overwhelm me. “Please, daddy. Touch me.”

  Who am I?

  He gives my ass another hard slap. “Spread your legs, little girl.”

  I obey, my right leg sliding all the way across his lap, dangling on the edge of his knee.

  His fingers make their way, marching a line up my inner thigh. He cups my ass with his palm. Presses his fingertip against the slick entrance of my pussy. “Ask again. Ask for exactly what you want.”

  Can I do it? Can I say the filthy words that rest on the tip of my tongue, begging to be freed? “Finger me, daddy. Make me come.”

  He pushes a finger inside of me, my body stretching to accommodate. I let out a low moan. He gathers my arousal, slides out. Using the pad of his slick finger, he circles my aching bud.

  It’s unbelievable. Melting my limbs. Making me even wetter. “Oh, more. Please more. Touch me there.” A little voice in the back of my mind reminds me that my job tonight is to please him, not to get off, but I can’t seem to stop my hips from rocking.

  His finger slides over my clit, offering the gentlest of pressures.

  My fingernails dig into the sofa as I moan. “Give me more. Please, daddy. Give me more.”

  He lets out a deep chuckle, but my shame knows no bounds. I just need his touch, that magical friction his hand can offer me. I don’t care what I have to say to get it.

  Now he’s got two fingers pressing against me, ready to enter me.

  It’s going to be too much. It’s going to hurt. I tense.

  “Relax, baby. Let me in.”

  I do as he says. My reward is the sudden thrust of his two fingers at once. “Oh!” It burns as I stretch to take him. He pushing in, hard, and it hurts, but damn if it doesn’t hurt so fucking good. The lines of pain and pleasure blur as he presses his palm harder into my ass, cupping me tighter and entering me deeper.

  If his fingers feel this amazing… what will it feel like to have his cock inside of me?

  He slides his fingers back out. Bringing them both to my clit. He circles and teases. My hips wriggle and beg. Finally, he runs his finger over my swollen bundle of nerves. “Oh, yes. Yes!”

  The climax comes from my toes, traveling up my body, the tension, the pleasure forming a circle of light and energy as it envelops my core. He doesn’t stop. He moves faster, harder, deeper. When he finds my clit this time it’s with heavy pressure, a rough, punishing touch.

  I buck over his lap. Greedy and eager and desperate. “Please, please daddy, make me come!”

  His crooning words reach me all the way down in my soul. “That’s right, pretty girl. Come for daddy. Come all over daddy’s fingers, you good, good girl.”

  I don’t know if it’s his words or his fingers or some kind of celestial combination, but the orgasm finally comes. Hard and fast. My muscles tightening. My skin flushed. White lights behind my eyelids. A battle cry wrenching from my chest.

  My head falls back down onto the couch, my mouth gaping, my eyes opening, staring out in disbelief. I’ve never, ever come like that. The power, the heat, the strength, it was almost too much.

  I lay over his lap, panting. Recuperating. Processing. Trying to figure out how I will ever be able to crawl off of this man’s lap and make eye contact with him ever again, after what’s just passed between us.

  What he’s made me do. What he somehow instinctively knew I wanted to do all along.

  His hands are on my hips. He’s turning me over, pulling me up until I’m sitting in his lap. One hand snakes around my waist, pressing into my lower back. The other cups my cheek.

  Our gazes lock. He stares into me, as if he’s seeing me. All of me. And in his eyes I see nothing but desire for more. More of me.

  My nerves melt away. My shame dissipates. He closes his eyes, and he kisses me. Our lips press together, warm and firm. An understanding passes between us in that kiss.

  This may be a one-night stand. A one-time thing. But there’s something between us, something that goes much deeper than a client and an escort. A connection of two beings with complementary desires.

  His, to own, to possess.

  Mine, to be taken out of control.

  He kisses me, holding me on his lap. My spanked ass presses against his hard thighs, my flesh still stinging. The bulge of his hardening cock presses into my punished curves.

  His lips caress my lips, my cheek, making his way to my ear. His whispered words make me tremble from the shiver he sends down my spine. “I’ll go slow. I’ll take good care of you. I promise.”

  And I know he will keep his word.

  In his arms, this stranger, I feel safe.

  No longer afraid of reaching this milestone, this pivotal moment of womanhood, I welcome it. He carries me to the bed, laying me down. He rests my head on the pillow. Gives me a soft stare. “Are you comfortable?”

  My teeth sink into my lip. I give him a nod.

  “Are you comfortable?”

  “Yes… daddy.”

  He sits beside me. His fully clothed body a stark contrast to my bare naked one. His hand trails down my neck, over my breast. My already peaked nipples tighten beneath his touch. “You are truly striking. I’m enamored by you.”

  I take him in. The deep color of his eyes. Those dark, steady brows. His hair, strands ending in slightly wild curls—the only thing about him that isn’t under perfect control.

  I’m ready. I want nothing more than this moment, than this night. Nothing more than to finally know what all the fuss is about.

  And he’s the perfect man to take me there.

  He leans down, kissing me once more. My mind slips into a delightful haze, loving every second of his kiss, his touch. I’m gone.

  My phone suddenly springs to life, ringing out a raucous, “Humpty hump. DO the humpty hump!”

  He pulls away. “What the hell is that?”

  My palm finds my forehead. “Ugh. It’s my phone. I meant to silence it.”

  He looks at me with a furrowed brow. “Whose ringtone is that?”

  Does he think it’s another man calling me? It’s laughable, considering the fact that I’ve just confessed I’m an almost thirty-year-old virgin. But I find his slight jealousy endearing. “It’s Le
xi. My sister.”

  “Does she always call at ten o’clock on a Saturday night?”

  Wanting to pick up where we left off, I wave my hand in the air, ready to casually dismiss his concern.

  Wait. No, she doesn’t. In fact, she and Tom are early risers and I never hear from her past nine at night. And she knows I’m on a date tonight. She wouldn’t call unless…

  I shake my head. “She doesn’t.”

  “Get it then.”

  Why is she calling me? I hop up from the bed, breasts jiggling as I streak naked across the room.

  I slip my dress on over my head. Grab my phone from my purse. I’ve missed the call.

  I call her back with shaky fingers. She picks up on the first ring. “Miranda.”

  “What’s wrong? Are you guys okay?”

  Her voice is small, tight. “It’s mom. She just called me from her house. She was asking me what time dad is going to be home.” Ugh. When Lexi called me yesterday, she mentioned she’d been visiting my mom lately, but I was so wound up with everything I forgot to ask more about it.

  My heart sinks. Our father passed away years ago. I think what we’re both not saying: early onset Alzheimer's. Her mother, our grandmother had it. We’ve been terrified this day would come.

  I’m acutely aware of his gaze. “Lexi. You said you’ve been visiting her a lot lately. Have you been worried? Has this kind of thing been happening a lot?”

  “Yes. One night, Marcy from next door called me. Mom was wandering the streets in her nightgown. She was looking for Tabby.”

  Tabby. The cat we’d lost ten years ago to a car speeding through our neighborhood. The news is heavy. Weighing me down. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I don’t know. You work so hard; you help with my wedding bills. I don’t work. I figured this could be my one job. The one way I could do something for both of us, so you wouldn’t have to worry.”

  “You know this is bigger than you, Lexi. It’s bigger than us. We’re going to need to get her help. Real help.”

  She heaves a choked sigh. I just want to hug her. “I know that now. It really scared me when she called me and I just couldn’t… couldn’t get her to understand…”

  “That he’s gone?”

  “Yes. It was so painful. It was like losing him all over again. I’m heading over there now. I thought she was asleep, but I think she’s been getting up in the middle of the night and...” A muffled sob comes over the line.

  She’s crying.

  Lexi never cries. Even when she fell from a tree in our front yard and broke her arm, that little girl never shed a tear. Just turned white as a sheet and pursed her lips together all the way to the hospital.

  There’s a gentle pressure on my arm. Gabriel. His eyes are kind, concerned.

  I tell him. “She’s crying. And I’m not there with her. I need to go to her.”

  Without a second of hesitation, he gives me a nod. “We’ll go. Tonight. I can take you.”

  “How?”

  “I have my ways. Tell her you’ll be there by midnight.”

  Midnight? We have to call the airport, book the ticket, if there even are any flights tonight. “There’s no way.”

  He puts his hand on my shoulder. Firm. Warm. Grounding. “Trust me.”

  And I do. I have to. I have to get to Lexi.

  Chapter Seven

  Gabriel

  I make a few calls while she finishes dressing, my mind focused on getting her to where she needs to go. I suppose a part of her wonders why it matters to me that we take care of her needs right now. And I suppose a part of her will eventually wonder when the other shoe drops, if this is for real.

  But this is very real. I’ve wanted Miranda Montague for so long, taking care of her is natural and easy. My only concern is that when she realizes just exactly how committed I am, she’ll fly like a bird with an open cage.

  “Get the jet ready,” I tell Shane. “Twenty minutes.”

  Miranda listens wordlessly while I order my private jet, have clothes brought for her, and a few other things we’ll need for the trip.

  “You have a photo shoot in the morning, Gabe.”

  I glance at my watch and do a quick mental calculation. “Cancel it.”

  “You sure about that?”

  “You’re awfully mouthy for an assistant. Do it.”

  He grumbles, but does what I say.

  Half an hour later, we’ve boarded the jet, and we’re on our way to her hometown. My staff leaves me and Miranda alone, my bodyguard up front with the flight attendant and pilot.

  “Okay, so this jet is a-maz-ing,” she says in a singsong voice. I smile at her as she takes it all in. There’s a small but well-stocked bar, luxuriously comfortable armchairs, and to the left, a desk and charging station. Behind us, the door to my bedroom’s still open, giving us a peek at the bed. It’s meticulously clean and well-appointed.

  She fits in perfectly.

  I look back at her. Miranda worries her lip and wrings her hands. I’ve watched this woman for months, and she so rarely shows signs of nervousness.

  I take both of her hands in mine, and place them in my lap. She lets out a slow, deliberate breath.

  “Are you a nervous flyer?”

  “No, sir.”

  I run my thumb along the top of her hand, and she leans in a little closer to me.

  “I want you to know I’m aware I’m breaking our contract for the evening, but Sugar Daddies will always make good on a contract. If for whatever reason the terms of the contract —”

  “Miranda.”

  Her eyes come to mine. She blinks. “Yes?”

  “You have not broken the contract.”

  She furrows her adorable brow and I want to kiss it smooth again, so fuck it, I do. I lean down and brush my lips across the puckered skin, until she lets out a breath and sighs. I look in her eyes and hold her chin between my fingers.

  You can’t buy love. But you can buy many things to please the woman you’re after, and hope with all that is in you that your efforts won’t be in vain, and that just might work.

  “I booked you for the evening. I didn’t detail that I wanted sex, even though I’m sure that was assumed. I booked you. Miranda Montague. With me, Gabriel Lord. Together.”

  I hold her hands in mine a little more firmly, as if reinforcing my words.

  “And you’re here with me, aren’t you?”

  She nods slowly. “I just don’t understand why a guy like you has such an… avid interest… in a girl like me.”

  That pings my sensors, a little warning bell that tells me she’s onto me. I sidestep.

  “Self-deprecation won’t be allowed, Miranda,” I say, giving her a warning look.

  “Self-deprecation?”

  “Doubting yourself. Putting yourself down. If you don’t know what it is about you that’s so appealing, then I’ll make it my mission to explain just that, until you know what it is about you that makes you so special.”

  Her cheeks flush pink. “Thank you,” she says shyly. “I-I will make it up to you.”

  My need to really, truly claim her flares to life.

  There will be time for that. I’ll be sure of it.

  She gives me a coy grin. “By my calculations, we have” —she bites her lip as her eyes rove heavenward for a few seconds— “an hour and a half.” Her eyes go half lidded, and she lowers her voice. “Plenty of time for me to pleasure you, sir.”

  My cock jerks and a tight coil of need winds itself in my belly. I reach for the nape of her neck and flex my fingers.

  “Daddy would like that.”

  She grins. I have no doubt a part of her eagerness to please me has to do with the fact that she’s a businesswoman. She owns this company, she signed that contract, and she wants to deliver the goods she promised.

  But what Miranda doesn’t know is that there’s no way I’m letting her go after this night. In fact, a part of me is already planning on finding a way to make this trip to her h
ometown work in favor of extending our contract. I’ll see to it that it happens.

  “Come here,” I say, lifting the armrest that separates us. I reach for her buckle and click it open, then reach for her and tug her onto my lap. “How about you start by kissing me.”

  She nods with eager anticipation, cups my face in her hands, then pauses as if she’s thinking. I place my hands on either side of me and let her do her thing. I’ve got a raging hard-on, and every move of hers only makes me harder.

  Holding her is heaven. Kissing her is utter bliss. When I finally get to take her as mine…

  But the next second my mind comes to a stuttering halt when I feel her warm breath on me. She places her hands on either side of my jaw, and she lowers her mouth to mine.

  She kisses me tentatively, and I love her soft, gentle kiss.

  I tell myself I’ll let her orchestrate this, for once in my life let someone else control how something goes, but seconds after I make this decision, my hands are on her face, I’m cupping her jaw, and I’m taking control.

  The kiss becomes insistent and heated, as our tongues touch, and she sighs into my mouth. Her little moans of pleasure and sweet submission spur me on. I deepen the kiss, and when we finally pull away, she’s panting and dazed.

  “On your knees,” I whisper in her ear. “I want your mouth on me.”

  She gently pushes herself off my lap and positions herself in front of me. She’s already panting, her eyes half-lidded, as if the thought of giving me a blow job’s as exciting as Christmas morning.

  Christ, she’s perfect.

  I unfasten my belt and button of my slacks, groaning as I remove my thick, hard cock. She eyes me eagerly, like she’s a starving woman, and her obvious interest in pleasing me makes me ache for her. Her eyes on mine, she strokes my cock, then brings me to her hot, wet mouth, and I groan out loud in pleasure as she cups my balls and takes me in fully.

  I groan when she suckles the tip, then runs her tongue down the veined length, stroking my balls and cupping them, squeezing and teasing. I feel the tension go out of my body as she bobs her head and works her magic, hot lashes of her tongue alternating with the sweet suckling motion of her mouth makes me sink so deep into this I forget my name or where I am.