Daddy's Here

by Lucy Wild

  Table of Contents

  PROLOGUE

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  TWENTY

  TWENTY-ONE

  TWENTY-TWO

  TWENTY-THREE

  TWENTY-FOUR

  TWENTY-FIVE

  TWENTY-SIX

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  TWENTY-NINE

  THIRTY

  THIRTY-ONE

  EPILOGUE

  Also by the Same Author

  Lucy Wild

  BONUS STORY

  BONUS STORY TWO

  DADDY’S HERE

  LUCY WILD

  Contents

  PROLOGUE

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  TWENTY

  TWENTY-ONE

  TWENTY-TWO

  TWENTY-THREE

  TWENTY-FOUR

  TWENTY-FIVE

  TWENTY-SIX

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  TWENTY-NINE

  THIRTY

  THIRTY-ONE

  EPILOGUE

  Also by the Same Author

  Lucy Wild

  BONUS STORY

  BONUS STORY TWO

  © Copyright 2017 Lucy Wild

  All characters in this book exist only in the imagination of the author and bear no relation to anyone with the same name or names. They are not inspired by any individual and all incidents are pure invention.

  All Rights Reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part. Excepting in the case of brief quotations in articles or reviews, no part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, stored, or distributed without the express permission of the author.

  This book is intended for mature audiences and may contain explicit language and scenes which some readers may find disturbing.

  Subscribe to my newsletter and get an exclusive bonus chapter for this story.

  Signing up is easy and takes less than a minute, click here to get started.

  Goodreads: Author page

  Twitter: @misslucywild

  Facebook: lucywildromance

  Instagram: misslucywild

  Amazon: Author page

  Blushing Books: Author page

  PROLOGUE

  “Don’t move,” he said. “Daddy’s got something for you.”

  “Have you?” I asked as he slid his boxers slowly off his hips. His cock sprang free and my eyes widened at the sight of it, the size of it so much more than I’d been expecting. “Is that for me?”

  It looked incredible, the head glistening in the glaring light of the dressing room. My body began to respond to the sight of it, a heat building in the pit of my stomach as my pussy tingled with desire.

  “Open your mouth,” he said, his voice cold.

  I did as he asked, unable to disobey his commanding tone. He took hold of the shaft as the head of his cock slid from side to side over my bottom lip, the heat of it almost too much to handle. The scent was all him and it drove me wild. I pushed my head forwards onto it until I choked on his length, his shaft filling my mouth. I looked up at his face as he stared down at me, his hands grabbing my hair. He held me firmly in place, making it impossible for me to do anything but focus on his cock in my mouth.

  I gagged, my nostrils flaring as I fought for breath. At last, just when I thought I was going to pass out, he pulled back and let my tongue slide along his shaft, flicking over the head, hungrily, before taking him back into my mouth. When the door burst open a few seconds later, it could only mean one thing. Trouble.

  ONE

  ISABEL

  The sun was rising when I left the club. It had been a hell of a night. Just making it to the queue for the taxis was a challenge. As I staggered out, I bumped into a gaggle of middle-aged women who scowled at me while I leant back against the wall of the club.

  They were talking about me, I could hear them clear as a bell. Did they think I was asleep because I had my eyes closed or did they not care if I could hear?

  “Downright indecent.”

  “If she leans down any further, they’ll be out in the street.”

  “And they wonder why guys won’t leave them alone.”

  I ignored them. Just because they were unhappy with my outfit didn’t mean I was. If you’ve got it, flaunt it, that’s what I always said. And I had it.

  I’d flaunted it too. All night my friends and I had been the centre of attention. It wasn’t that revealing an outfit anyway, short skirt, sequinned halter-neck, platform heels. I’d worn far more revealing stuff before without anyone commenting.

  The guys in the club had been impressed. They’d been fawning over me and my friends all night. I’d been there with Charlotte and Abbey but neither of them had my stamina. Charlotte had wandered out at three and Abbey had gone about ten minutes later, looking greener than the liqueur she so pretentiously insisted on drinking.

  I stayed on, ignoring her half-hearted attempts to get me to take her home when she went. I had three men taking turns to buy me drinks and I had no intention of stopping them. I only left when the place finally shut, joining the queue for taxis while doing my best to stay awake. I opened my eyes just enough to see how far the queue had moved and that was when I saw that one of my attempted suitors had joined the line and was sidling over to me, hoping to jump the queue.

  “You look as good out here as you did in there,” he said, moving too close to me, not looking anywhere near as handsome in the cold light of early morning.

  I heard the women in front of me tutting as I twisted in place, doing my best to stop myself from falling over. I was worried that I might collapse if I stood up straight without the wall for support. “I don’t feel that good.” I groaned as I said it, surprised by how slurred my words sounded.

  “Oh, really?” he said, taking a step towards me and hooking his arm through mine. “Why don’t we take you somewhere to rest?”

  “Saw her in there,” one of the women said, looking straight at me with dagger eyes. “Cheap as her clothes, getting men to buy her drinks all night.”

  “Actually I’m Jonathan Fleming’s daughter,” I shouted across to her, feeling the guy’s hand tightening its grip on me, saying it as much for his benefit as for theirs. “One phone call and I could have a limo here to pick me up.”

  “Course you could, just taking a taxi for fun, are you?”

  “Leave it,” the man said as I began glaring at the woman. “Ignore them.”

  I turned back to the guy with his arm still round me. I think he was called Greg but I could have been wrong, I’d had a lot of drinks since he’d introduced himself. “You know Jonathan Fleming, right? You don’t think I’m making it up, do you?”

  He paused before answering, a long enough pause to make the women laugh and me scowl. “You do,” I snapped.

  He shrugged, his eyes fixing on someone else. He moved down the queue without another word. I watched him, suddenly feeling suspicious. It was hard to put my finger on anything specific but
it was like he was looking for something and whatever it was, I was too difficult a choice.

  He found it past the group of women. There was a girl on her own, a girl far too young to be out clubbing. His arm was already sliding round her shoulders by the time I pushed past the gaggle of women, stumbling towards him.

  “I’m not interested,” the girl was saying, doing her best to remove his hand from her shoulder. He was much stronger than her and nobody else seemed to have noticed her struggles.

  “Don’t play hard to get,” he replied, his voice having a hint of menace to it all of a sudden.

  “Get off her!” I snapped, shoving him in the small of the back. It wasn’t a strong push but it caught him off balance, sending him crashing into a group of men who immediately started pushing him back. It looked like a brawl was on the verge of breaking out. I turned to move away but the group of women were still snarling at me.

  Stuck with nowhere to go, I turned to the young girl who was already crying. “Thanks,” she muttered. “He grabbed my boob, I didn’t know what to do.”

  “I’ll get you somewhere safe,” I replied, praying a fleet of taxis would arrive and solve everything. Todd was already heading back towards us, his shirt torn, his face a mask of fury.

  “What, back at the mansion?” He snarled and the women joined in with cackling laughter.

  “What’s so funny?” I shouted across to them.

  “Just the thought of you living in a mansion.”

  “Why’s that so funny?”

  “Well, just look at you.”

  A car horn beeped and I turned and looked at the source, glad to see my father’s car for the first time in years.

  TWO

  ISABEL

  “Oh, look,” Todd called out, reaching for the girl next to me. “A limo’s here. Yours, I presume?” He grinned wickedly. “Don’t worry, she’ll be safe with me, I’ll look after her for you.”

  The limo door opened and out stepped one of my father’s drivers. “Time to go,” he said, walking across to me.

  It was never good news when my father sent a car to find me. This time though, it meant I could get the girl away from the sleazebag who was still trying to touch her.

  “She’s coming too,” I said, taking the girl’s hand in mine and pulling her out of the queue.

  I climbed into the car and she followed. The driver got back into his seat, glancing at me in the rear view mirror.

  “Take her home first,” I said.

  “Your father wants to see you now.”

  “He can wait. Take her home first.” I turned to her. “What’s your address?”

  “I’m to take you straight to your father.”

  “You can go via her house or you can explain to him why you abandoned a child on the streets at five in the morning when his daughter told you not to. Now,” I turned to her again, “What’s your address?”

  I closed my eyes as she told the driver who sighed but said nothing.

  “Thanks,” she said as the car set off. “I don’t know what I’d have done if you weren’t there.”

  I didn’t open my eyes, my hangover was already creeping over me and I got the feeling it was going to be a bad one. “Don’t mention it.”

  “I’ve never been clubbing before. Is it always like that?”

  “Sleazy guys trying to grope you? Pretty much.”

  “I don’t think I’ll do it again.”

  “Did you go on your own?”

  “My friends were supposed to meet me there. I guess they didn’t get in.”

  “I guess not.”

  We lapsed into a silence which lasted until the driver called back, “We’re here.”

  He climbed out and opened her door as she shook my hand. “Thank you,” she said, squeezing it tightly. “Good night.”

  “Be safe,” I replied, closing my eyes again as she left. Now that was sorted, I could think about my father. What did he want? Last time it was to tell me my allowance would stop unless, as he put it, I started being more sensible with his money.

  What was the point of having a ludicrously wealthy father if you couldn’t spend some of it? Why spend half your life building up a fortune if you were going to grumble when your daughter spent a tiny little bit? It was one of the reasons why I moved out, I couldn’t stand any more of his lectures.

  My phone vibrated in my clutch and it took three attempts and four swearwords before I was able to get the bag unzipped. The message was from Ben and I squirmed as I read it. “You’re drunk. Stop texting me and get some sleep.”

  What had I told him? It had been a while since I’d been hammered enough to text him. Scrolling through the messages, I muttered, “Oh, no,” under my breath, seeing what I’d written.

  I’m sure you had one, a childhood sweetheart, the one you never forgot. Ben was mine. We’d kept in touch even after he’d been moved across to the other side of the country but in the last couple of years I tended only to text him when I was too drunk to speak. As every time before, I texted an apology for my proclamations of love before sliding my phone away. He knew I didn’t love him, not really.

  I closed my eyes again and was drifting off to sleep when the car stopped. We hadn’t driven far enough to get to my father’s, even in my stupefied state I could tell that. I heard the driver’s door open and close and then I looked out of the window, frowning as I realised we’d pulled up on the roadside next to a convenience shop. The bright lights made me wince as my hangover slowly crept up on me.

  When the driver returned to the car, I didn’t bother opening my eyes. “What was so fucking urgent, you had to stop?” I asked.

  “To get this,” he replied.

  I heard a movement and when I looked, a metal flask was waving in front of my face. “What’s this?”

  “Drink it.”

  “What is it?”

  “Hangover cure.”

  “But I don’t have a hangover.”

  “Drink it.”

  I took the flask from him, sniffing the contents and recoiling so hard, I banged the back of my head on the seat. “What the hell’s in this?”

  “Just drink it.”

  I looked down at the flask, bringing it up to my lips and taking a sip. Almost at once, a heat burned its way down my throat, a very different heat to the vodka I’d been sipping for most of the night. I took another sip, and then gulped down the contents. It didn’t stop at my stomach. Within seconds of drinking it, every blood vessel in my body was alert, my nerves alive, even my back straightening as I blinked myself awake. “I say,” I muttered, slipping back into the voice of my private education. I managed to resist adding, “this is spiffing,” instead passing him the flask with a grin on my face. “What the hell was in that?”

  Driver’s secret,” he replied and although his expression didn’t change, I caught a slight raise of his eyebrows in the rear view mirror as we set off once more.

  THREE

  ISABEL

  We got to my father’s house an hour later. It was on the edge of the city, set in its own grounds, as immaculate as last time I was here, not a blade of grass out of place. “Do I have to go in there?” I asked when the car came to a halt.

  “Afraid so,” the driver replied, stepping out and pulling my door open a moment later.

  I climbed out, amazed to find I wasn’t even wobbling. “You’ve got to tell me what was in that,” I said, looking for a distraction, anything to delay the inevitable screamfest I was about to endure.

  “He’s waiting,” the driver replied and I knew I’d get no more out of him. He knew which side his bread was buttered on and it wasn’t mine.

  I walked up the steps to the front door, stepping inside to the dulcet tones of my father screaming at someone down the phone. “You do it because it’s your job to do it. If I have to come down there and show you the stuff, I will but you don’t want me to do that, do you? Because if I do…”

  He appeared in the hallway, phone in hand. He took one loo
k at me. “I’ll call you back.”

  Shoving his phone in his pocket, he walked towards me. “Isabel, how lovely to see you. What’s this, you’re wearing, slut chic?”

  “Don’t start,” I replied. “How did you know I was at the club? Been spying on me?”

  “You forget I pay your bills. You spend a lot of money on my cards. Don’t think I don’t notice.”

  “You can afford it.”

  “Look at you. You stink of booze. You’re a disgrace.”

  “Shall I sit down while you insult me? Is it going to take a while?”

  “Don’t get smart with me, Isabel. It doesn’t suit you.”

  “Spending time with you doesn’t suit me. Can I go home yet?”

  “I’m paying for that crack den of yours.” He turned and walked away. I followed him. If I didn’t, he’d only come after me and he could move surprisingly quickly for a man in his fifties.

  I found him sat behind his desk so I sat in front of it, trying in vain to find any evidence of mess. One of his pencils was slightly askew but he rectified that as I looked.

  “It’s time for you to grow up,” he said, folding his arms and not smiling at me.

  “I’m nineteen.”

  “And you act like a fourteen year old whore.”

  “Aren’t those two things mutually exclusive?”

  I told you not to get funny with me, Isabel. I’ve had enough of you behaving like this.”

  “Like what?”

  “I’m not getting into a debate with you about what’s appropriate for a woman of your age, I’ll get to the point. I’ve decided it’s time to get married.”

  “Who’s the unlucky woman?”

  “Not me, you.”

  A heavy weight suddenly thudded down into the pit of my stomach. The hangover that had faded away came roaring back. “You want me to get married?”

  “It’s all been arranged. You’ll like him.”

  “You mean you’ve picked my husband out for me? What century is this?”

  “I don’t care what century it is, I care about my daughter acting like a woman, not a slut. The venue’s booked, everything’s already arranged. All you have to do is turn up.”