Daddy's Girl

by River Laurent

  His rudeness makes my blood boil. He doesn’t care about me or his son’s happiness at all, just like he didn’t care about Morgan. Well, I’m not going to stand for it. I don’t see why I should. I don’t owe him anything.

  “Don’t talk to me like that,” I spit, so furious my hand is shaking. “Drake will be back any minute, and I don’t think he’ll appreciate the meddling you’re doing in his life.”

  “He’s out seeing his agent, he’ll be gone for a while,” his father cut me off smoothly. How does he know so much about us, and what we do with our lives? It is unsettling.

  “You need to leave,” he nods towards the door.

  My eyes widen. “I do?” I exclaim. “Me?”

  “I know my son might seem like he has his shit together, but he doesn’t,” his father goes on. “And I know that he feels guilty about you and your stepmother and everything. He’s trying to assuage his own guilt, and you and your family are exploiting that.”

  “What the fuck?” I demand.

  His lips curl with disgust at my language. “You must have learned it from your stepmother,” he sneers, his top lip curling with disgust as he observes me. “Being a money-grabbing slut usually takes more practice, but you seem to have got it down to a fine art the first time.”

  My mouth hangs open. I can’t believe what I’m hearing. I stare at him, the blood whooshing around my head in waves great enough to knock me off-balance.

  Suddenly, the door clicks open behind me. I jump and whirl around. Drake is standing there staring at his father, his face black with rage. I have never seen him so furious, not even when he was confronting his father the last time. I swivel back around to face his father and see that his expression has dropped from smug superiority to confusion.

  “How much did you hear?” his father asks, and Drake steps up beside me and takes my hand.

  “Everything,” he replies, his tone low and menacing. “I heard everything.”

  “Son, I’m just trying to do this for your own good,” he says, changing tack, pleading with Drake. “These women, they’ll bleed you dry-”

  “Dad, this may come as a shock to you,” Drake interrupts him, “but I don’t give a shit about money. She can have it all as far as I’m concerned.”

  His father goes white. “Drake, she’ll take everything from you-”

  “Didn’t you hear me? I don’t care if she does!” Drake explodes, dropping my hand. In three strides, he is standing in front of his father. His hands are clenched tight at his sides. If it was not his Dad, he would have knocked him out by now.

  “I thought you’d know better than that,” his father spat. “She’s not worth it. She’s nothing but a-”

  “Don’t say it, Dad. I don’t want to lose the last bit of respect I have for you.”

  “She’s a whore,” his father screamed.

  Drake catches his father by the shoulders and begins dragging him towards the door.

  “I don’t want to hear it!” He roars, opening the door. “I don’t want to see you here ever again; do you understand me?”

  His father stands in the arch of the door frame and shoots a look at me. I know he blames me for this, but he has no one to blame but himself.

  “I understand,” he confirms, narrowing his eyes at me.

  “Good,” Drake snarls. “Then get out, and don’t come back unless you are prepared to apologize to Reese and talk to her with civility.”

  He slams the door in his father’s face, and it echoes throughout the room. Drake comes over to me, and before I can get a word out, his mouth is on mine; he tucks his hands beneath my ass and carries me over to the kitchen counter. He plants me on the polished marble surface, flips my skirt up, and unbuckles his pants.

  “Are you okay?” I pant, my eyes already hazy around the edges with how much I want him. Whatever has happened, it has been so intense, and so fast that it feels as though adrenaline is keeping me floating some distance off the ground. Drake rips my panties down roughly. He grabs my legs and throws them over his shoulders, and fisting his cock then positions it at the entrance of my pussy.

  “I’m great,” he growls, as he slams his cock into me: it's rock-hard. It’s clear that the intensity of what has just happened is affecting him just as much as it is affecting me.

  “I can’t believe that just happened,” I breathe into his ear, wrapping my arms around his neck and brushing my lips against his skin. He groans with pleasure and grabs my legs to pin them back while he fucks me harder. It’s like he’s letting out all the built-up tension of the last couple of weeks out in one furious fuck, and I’m not complaining.

  “Fuck him,” he snarls, his voice low and hard. “You’re my life now. It’s you, you, and you for me.”

  He’s never taken me like this before, without a second thought. It feels incredible. The urge to touch him overwhelms me, and I sink my fingers into his back and I pull up his shirt so I can feel his bare skin. I lean forward so that I can kiss him once more. He pushes his tongue into my mouth, and we make out ferociously as he continues to screw me on top of the counter. I haven’t really thought about the difference between “making love” and “fucking” before this moment, but right then, I know there is a massive difference.

  He drives himself into me, moving his hips back and forth so I can feel the contours of his cock inside me. Jesus, it feels wild and good. I let go and lose myself so completely to him. This is cathartic, a release, a relief. The climax burns through me like a forest fire setting alight everything it comes in contact with. Every thought I have just vanishes into smoke.

  A loud scream comes from my mouth, the sound echoing off the walls and all around us. It is guttural and animalistic, and I don’t give a fucking damn. I want to let him know how much pleasure he brings me.

  As if he has been holding himself and waiting for me, he drives himself deeply inside me one last time and cums, the muscles in his neck straining hard, as his cock spasms inside me. When it’s over his body slumps against mine. Gently he wraps his arms around me and plants a kiss on my cheek, before moving back slightly so he can look me in the eye while we are still joined. He has an odd expression on his face, and I cock my head to the side and try to read it.

  “What’s up?” I ask.

  He stares into my eyes. His eyes are wet!

  “Drake?” I feel a lance of panic move through my system. What if he is thinking about what his father said? What if he thinks that he is right? I’m socially inferior, but before I can overthink it any further, he turns to me and speaks.

  “I love you.”

  For a second I can’t move, I can’t think, I can’t do anything, then my mouth opens and blurts out the words I’ve been dying to say. “I love you, too!”

  We stare at each other for what seems like a lifetime until a radiant smile slowly breaks over his face, and he bends his head and kisses me again. He still looks a bit shell-shocked when he pulls back, and I laugh at his expression.

  “You okay?” I ask.

  He wraps his arms around me, lifts me off the counter, and while we are still joined he walks towards the bedroom.

  “Never better,” he beams at me. “But I missed lunch and I’m ravenous.

  I laugh with happiness. And that is a pretty damn good feeling.

  Epilogue

  Drake

  “Drake, I need to tell you something.”

  I’ve got my vows in my pocket and I look up at her. She is still wearing her toweling robe, her make-up is half-done, and her hair pulled back into this complicated updo that I intend to ruin the moment I get her alone. I feel my stomach do a flip. Every day I look at her, and she seems to become more and more beautiful.

  We agreed to get ready together, to ignore all the stupid traditions that usually came with stuff like this, and now I wonder if she wished for something different. To be honest it’s the wedding I wanted, given the choice, low-key and precious. With the most perfect woman in the world.

  My entire
world shifted on its axis when I met her. It’s been as though my feet haven’t touched the ground. So much has happened in the last year. We’ve both been caught up in the whirlwind of passion and love that started at our first meeting. Since then, Morgan has recovered, Reese has started college, and I’ve been picked up by another team in the city, a bigger one. I occasionally pass by billboards with my face on them, and it never stops being really fucking weird.

  I get to my feet and go over to her. “What’s up?”

  She licks her lips. It’s a nervous gesture. She better not be getting wedding jitters because I’m not above hauling her over my shoulder and forcing my damn ring on her finger anyway. The only thing I want is her. Forever.

  She takes a deep, shuddering breath, and looks up at me. I notice her hands are laying gently over her stomach, flattening the fabric of her robe over what looks like…

  “You’re pregnant,” I breathe, and she nods, eyes wide.

  A smile breaks out across my face, and I scoop her up in my arms and twirl her around and around while she keeps her arms tightly wrapped around my neck, squeals, and tells me that I’m making her giddy.

  “You’re pregnant!” I exclaim again, and she nods vigorously.

  “Are you happy?”

  “Does pizza taste good?”

  She giggles like a child. “Yes, pizza tastes good.”

  I slide my hand under her robe and she jerks away and slaps my hand. “You’ll spoil my hair. The minister will know exactly what we’ve been up to.”

  “No, I won’t.”

  She grins. “Promise?”

  My hand is already pushing away her white silk panties and stroking her clit. “Promise.”

  “Oh, Drake. You know, we won’t be able to just fuck whenever we feel like it when the baby comes, don’t you?”

  My hand stills and her hips jerk involuntarily against my hand. My Princess always was a greedy girl. “Why not?” I ask.

  “It’ll scare the poor kid.”

  “He’s going to learn about it in biology class, anyway?”

  “Shut up and fuck me, Drake,”

  I don’t need any more encouragement. I’ll sort that kid out when he comes. Get him a stash of lollipops or something and stick him in a crib. It’ll be fine. It’ll always be fine, as long as I’ve got my Reese with me. I let my hand start moving again and Reese sighs with pleasure.

  Today is my wedding day, and life is good.

  Really, really good.

  The End

  CINDERELLA.COM

  Published by River Laurent

  Copyright © 2017 by River Laurent

  The right of River Laurent to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the copyright, designs and patent act 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  All characters in this publication are fictitious, any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  ISBN: 9781910575-47-5

  Created with Vellum

  1

  Cass

  “Open this damned door now,” my landlord yells, banging his meaty fists on my door.

  Not even daring to breathe, I press myself tightly against the wall in the only blind spot that cannot be seen through the keyhole of my tiny, one-room apartment.

  “I know you’re in there, Harper. I saw you go in,” he growls.

  Please God, please. Make him go away, I pray silently as a bead of sweat slips down the inside of my arm.

  “I have another key that I can use to get in,” he threatens darkly.

  I squeeze my eyelids tightly. Don’t fold, Cass. Don’t fold. Stay strong. He’s totally lying. Just trying to scare you. In the last year, I’ve seen him walking around with that heavy ring of keys only once.

  Suddenly, to my horror, I hear the jangle of keys.

  Oh, shit.

  My eyes fly open and I stop breathing. He brought the whole damned thing. I freeze with panic when I hear him put a key into the lock. I can’t face him and tell him another pile of lies. I just need to buy myself a little bit more time. One of the people from my job interviews could still call. In fact, that guy from Chips-R-Us said he’d call tomorrow. Impulsively, I drop to the floor and roll under the bed just as the door flies open.

  With my cheek stuck to the bare floorboard and my heart pounding like crazy, I stare wide-eyed at the doorway. Mr. Tanner is standing with his feet wide apart. From this angle, his legs look like tree trunks. For a few seconds, they remain planted on the floor while he surveys my small room. Then his feet move as if to leave. I clasp my hands together. Thank you, God. Thank you. But just as I exhale a sigh of relief, his scuffed black shoes turn back into the room.

  No!

  They come to a stop in front of the bed.

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  Suddenly, his fat face appears in the gap between the floor and the bed.

  Busted.

  My cheeks burn, but I plaster a fake bright smile on my face. “Hi, Mr. Tanner.”

  There is no smile in response. His brown eyes are irritated. “You think this is funny?”

  I drop my smile instantly. “No, no. Of course not.”

  “Get out of there,” he orders.

  I scramble out and stand nervously in front of him.

  He smells of sweat and bacon. “I thought you said you’d have my rent money by today.”

  I swallow hard. “Yes, I know I said that. But I’ve had a bit of a problem, Mr. Tanner.”

  He folds his hands in front of his distended belly and stares at me coldly.

  “But please don’t worry about it. I swear I’ll have the money by this weekend.”

  He frowns. “That’s what you said last week and the week before that.”

  “Yes, and I should have had it.” I clear my throat. “I was let down, but this time I promise I’ll have the money.”

  “Look. I like you. You’re a good kid, but I ain’t runnin’ a charity here. If you don’t come up with the money by the weekend, and that means Sunday—6:00 p.m. at the latest—you’re out. Am I making myself clear?”

  I nod. “Absolutely, Mr. Tanner. I hear you loud and clear. I’ll have the money. I promise.”

  “I don’t get it. You work all the time. You never go out. What do you do with your money?”

  “I told you, Mr. Tanner. When my father was sick, I took a short-term loan from some people to pay for his medical bills. I have to service that loan every week. They’ve cut my hours at work, but I’ve gone for some interviews. I should hear back this week.” I bite my lip and look at him imploringly.

  “Hmmm…that’s a shame.” He sucks at his teeth. “You could, you know, pay your rent in different ways.”

  My eyes widen with disbelief. “What?”

  He scratches his double chin while his greedy eyes crawl over my chest like slimy fingers and his tongue comes out to wet his lips. “We could come to some…arrangement.”

  “No,” I blurt out in disgust.

  I see a flash of surprised anger cross his face and quickly smile to soften the blow. “What I meant to say is, thank you. It’s a truly great offer, but it won’t be necessary since I will have the money for you.”

  He throws me a sour look. “Fine. I’m leaving now, but you keep your word this time. Don’t think I won’t haul your sorry ass out on the sidewalk and change the locks.”

  “Okay. Thank you, Mr. Tanner,” I whisper.

  He turns around and walks out of my room.

  I walk to the door, close it, and sag against it. My knees give way. I slide down and sit slumped on the floor. It’s like the weight of the whole world is bearing down upon my shoulders. I st
are at the blank wall above my bed, feeling sick to my stomach.

  I don’t know how I’m going to manage. It is now clear that Mr. Tanner is deadly serious. He is going to kick me out unless I come up with my rent money. I am so lost in worry and stress, I jump when my cell phone rings. I pull it out of my pocket and look at it hopefully. It is my bestie, Jesse.

  “Hey,” she says, her voice bubbling with excitement. “I’ve got great news for you.”

  “Yeah? What is it?” I ask without enthusiasm.

  “It’s too good to tell over the phone. I’m coming over right now,” she says and cuts the connection.

  2

  Cass

  Jesse’s eyes are shining when I open the door.

  “Howdy, partner,” she greets jauntily.

  “Howdy? What’s with the cowboy talk?”

  Instead of answering me, she grins, grabs my arm, and pulls me over to the mirror, positioning me in front of it. “What do you see?” she asks excitedly.

  I don’t even want to see my reflection. I’m rocking the shadows under the eyes, deathly pale skin, and haunted blue eyes look. I turn away from the tragic sight. “Look, Jesse. I’m really not in the mood. What’s this about?”

  Undeterred by my lackluster tone, she cups her palms on either side of my face and turns it back toward the mirror. “I see money.”

  Frowning, I ask, “What?”

  She leaves me standing at the mirror and goes toward my bed. Hopping on it, she sits cross-legged and pats the space in front of her. With a sigh, I go and sit opposite her.

  “You know how everybody is always mistaking you for Tamara Honeywell?”

  “Yeah,” I agree cautiously. Tamara Honeywell is a hotel heiress, famous for being infamous. I think she cut a record where her voice was compared to cats wailing, and she might also have starred in a Hollywood movie her father produced that flopped big time. She does a bit of modeling and has a clothing line but seems mostly to be photographed at parties and clubs looking wasted, or making out with perfect strangers. I don’t have the time to read gossip magazines, but there might also have been talk of a sex tape. So, it’s not exactly a compliment to be compared to her, and I can’t imagine why Jesse is so fired up.