Beauty's Daddy (Billionaire Daddies #1)

by Jane Henry

  She measured me, had me stand in front of her wearing nothing but a simple sheath dress, then turned me around as if I were a cake on a turntable, taking in every curve. “You have a lovely figure,” she praised.

  Without thinking, I protested. “No, I don’t,” I said with chagrin. “My sister is thin and beautiful, but I got the dumpy genes in the family.”

  A low growl from across the room arrested my attention.

  “What?” I said, his displeasure making my belly clench. God, he scared me.

  I loved that he did.

  “Not another word about being ‘dumpy.’”

  “It’s true though,” I argued. I hadn’t made the comment to get attention, but because I believed what I said to be true.

  “Is not,” he insisted.

  “Is so!”

  “Enough!”

  Lisa jumped, dropping half a dozen pins as she did. “Oh, my,” she said, her voice shaking and wobbly. “I-I’m really sorry about that,” she stammered.

  I shot Sawyer a glare, which only earned me a narrow-eyed glare back in return.

  She shook her head. “You, my dear, have a lovely figure. It is true, though, that you’d do best if you knew how best to dress these lovely curves.”

  I nodded. “Thank you.”

  “You’re very welcome,” she said, tucking in the arms of the dress I was currently wearing. “With just a few minor changes, your wardrobe will be complete.”

  “Sounds good to me,” I replied. “I’m more of a mix-and-match girl myself, though,” I added. “I mean, I like a simple wardrobe that I can mix up, rather than loads of clothes I don’t have the time, money, or energy to manage.

  “Of course,” she said. “I think that’s smart, coming up with a simple wardrobe. I’ll give you some pointers.” She looked quickly to Mister Gryffin. “Mister Gryffin has already given me some ideas as well.”

  Of course he had.

  “Spare no cost.” Sawyer’s deep baritone echoed across the room. “Have at it with simplicity or mixing or whatever the hell it is you need. But don’t worry about the cost.”

  I frowned at him. “You have to have a budget,” I protested. “I can’t just have whatever it is I want.”

  He merely sipped his coffee. His lips thinned and his jaw twitched as he eyed me, holding my gaze a full minute before he spoke. “Did I say you could spend what you’d like, Annabelle?

  I grasped the edge of my dress as I whirled away from him and turned to Lisa, not responding to him.

  He cleared his throat.

  “No,” I said with a tone of petulance, still not looking at him. Show-off.

  “Okay, then,” Lisa placated. “I’ll be reasonable in my budget but spare no cost, and I’ll keep the wardrobe simple. Sound good?”

  “Perfect,” I said with a laugh. Sawyer said nothing.

  After I was completely exhausted and had chosen more clothes than I’d bought my entire adult life, but still considerably fewer than Sawyer had recommended, I bade Lisa goodbye.

  “See to it you have what she’s asked by Friday,” he commanded.

  Lisa nodded and trotted away.

  Then I was left alone with him. He watched me from across the room, his eyes not wavering, not even blinking, as he tipped his coffee mug once more.

  “It’s time for you to eat lunch,” he said. “I would join you but I have a conference call this afternoon that will draw my attention. I will, however, prefer to have dinner with you this evening.”

  There was something about the way he stood apart from me, aloof, his jaw clenched and his eyes glittering as if he were angry with me, that made me want to give him a reason for that anger. I’d agreed to obey him, but I hadn’t agreed to be his little lapdog.

  “I’m not very hungry,” I told him. “I don’t usually eat lunch. And anyway, I want to take these clothes off and put on something a little more comfortable.”

  The second the words left my mouth, I wanted to take them back as they hung in the air between us, seductive and alluring. Ever so slowly, his eyes never leaving mine, he got to his feet and I was once again reminded of how extremely tall he was. He was enormous, easily over six feet, his hands alone the size of saucers, the breadth of his shoulders dwarfing mine, and as he approached me, I realized that I’d underestimated him.

  He placed his mug on the coffee table in a fluid motion. For a man of his size I’d half expected him to be clumsy, but he was not, everything he did was graceful and fluid, carrying himself as if he were a lion prowling the Serengeti. So taken by the way he moved and his enormity, I gasped in sudden surprise as he loomed over me.

  “What were the terms of our agreement, Annabelle?” he asked softly, his feet planted apart and his arms now crossing his chest as those obsidian eyes met mine. My mouth grew dry, but I stood as tall as I could and met his gaze.

  “I agreed to pretend to be your wife,” I said, my chin jutting out and my shoulders squared like I was defying a teacher lecturing me in front of a room full of children.

  “And?” he prompted, following his question with a raise of one heavy dark brow.

  “And obey you,” I faltered, my gaze shifting for one moment only to meet his once again.

  “Obey me,” he repeated, nodding his head slowly.

  “What have I done that was disobedient?” I challenged, crossing my own arms on my chest now. “You wanted me at breakfast at eight? Done.” My voice rose with my anger. He was not going to bully me into doing what he said. “You wanted me to come and get a stupid clothes fitting with a stupid stylist, even though I am perfectly capable of dressing myself,” I sputtered, aware of the fact that I now sounded like a spoiled child, but unable to stop the words from coming. Lisa wasn’t a stupid stylist, either, and I felt bad about that, but the very idea that I was his little toy to dress up pissed me off. “So we’ve got breakfast? Check! Clothing fit? Check! Stay away from the fucking whatever wing? Check!” I uncrossed my arms and pointed an irate finger at his chest. He had a temper, all right, but what he didn’t know yet was that I did, too.

  “And now I don’t want to eat your stupid fancy food on your stupid fucking fancy plates and you can’t make me!”

  His eyes glittered with anger, his nostrils flared, and his chest rose as he inhaled. But I was not finished yet.

  I jabbed a finger at his chest, poking him hard. “Fine! You want me to obey you? You want me to do what you say? Then maybe you should —”

  “Shut your mouth.” His words hissed across my chest, slithered down my breastbone and tingled along the edge of my panties. I blinked.

  “I —” I began.

  “No,” he said. “I told you. Shut. Your. Mouth.” He took a step closer now so the tips of his shoes were flush against mine. He lifted his hand and brought one finger under my chin. My skin burned from the heat of his touch and my eyes widened even further. “One more word, little girl,” he warned, leaning in so that his voice tickled my ear. “One more word and I’ll shut it for you.”

  I closed my eyes involuntarily, my knees wobbling. I had no idea what he would do but I wanted to know. God, I wanted to know. My mind screamed danger and my body begged to get closer to him.

  I opened my mouth. I had no idea what even to say, but I wanted to challenge him, push him, make him react. My hands shook as I spoke. “I… I…” I began when his mouth crashed down on mine.

  This was no virgin lover kiss, but a punishment as his lips bruised mine and his hand fisted in my hair, entwining his enormous fingers at the base of my skull, my nipples hardening as he swallowed my moan. His other hand coming to the small of my back, he pulled my torso flush against the heat and warmth and hardness of his body. I wobbled but his hand steadied me, my head tilting to the side and my eyes closing as his tongue plunged inside my mouth. My body hummed with need, a vibration of arousal coursing through my limbs with the stroke of his tongue against mine. He jerked his mouth away from mine and I keened at the sudden loss, but it was only long enough
for him to hiss in my ear. “I told you to shut your mouth.” The surge of uncontrollable emotions infuriated me, so I smacked my palms against the flat planes of his chest.

  “Fuck. You,” I hissed. I did not know why I was so angry, but I needed to push him, needed to know that when I slammed up against Sawyer Gryffin he would rise to the challenge and take me on. Put me in my place. I was drunk with arousal, high on fear, my body teeming with desire just from the one kiss and the searing touch of his hands. I never swore at anyone, ever. I was a good girl, a rule follower who crossed her t’s and dotted her i’s. I read books and served meals at the diner. Who was this woman shouting profanities at this monster of a man?

  “You’ll regret saying that.” He did not yell or rage but the tightening of his jaw made me shiver.

  I already did.

  “I’m sorry,” I sputtered, but it was too late. His hand grasped my wrist, and he pulled me toward the dark leather couch that flanked the wall. I could still see the half-moon indentation from where he sat. He dragged me along as trepidation skittered in my stomach, and I tried to pull away.

  “Mister Gryffin,” I plead. No response.

  “Daddy.”

  Clearly he was not in the mood to talk.

  He sat on the edge of the enormous couch, sturdy and thick enough to hold his large frame, leaned me against one knee, and with a quick tug, had me belly down over his lap. I still wore nothing but the thin sheath dress and my hands floundered in front of me with nothing to hold onto.

  “I told you not to speak,” he said. “I told you not to defy me. You’ll learn to do as you’re fucking told.”

  My panties dampened at his words, my eyes closed shut from embarrassment. It was too much. I had to stop him. The scent of my own arousal permeated my senses as he lifted the edge of my dress and I squirmed, one hand flailing back.

  “No!” I protested. “Don’t! I’ll listen! I will do what you say!”

  He chuckled mirthlessly. “I love how compliant you are on the verge of getting your ass whipped.” For a moment I thought he was releasing me as he tipped one knee up, and I shifted on his lap, but a second later, I heard the jingle of his belt buckle followed by the hiss of leather pulled against fabric. I gasped, wriggling, craning my neck to look at him. He held his thick black leather belt in hand, doubled over, forming a loop, and with the other hand he pushed my head back down so that my cheek hit the couch. He released the back of my head and wrapped his hand around my waist.

  “No!” I said again, trying to push myself off his lap, but he held me tight, and without another word, the searing smack of leather met my vulnerable ass.

  I screamed from the pain, writhing on his knee, flailing my arms, but another whap of his belt followed another, and then another. This was nothing like the sting of his palm the night before. This was nothing like anything I’d imagined. My skin burned with every smack of his belt. He would not stop. He was a man on a mission, and he was not finished until he’d punished me thoroughly.

  I lost count of how many whacks he gave me, but after a good handful I stopped squirming. It still hurt, but it wasn’t like the first few smacks this time. My ass was screaming hot, throbbing, and he took advantage of the fact that I no longer squirmed. I heard the jingle of his belt as he placed it down, and the next thing I knew, my panties were around my ankles and my ass was bared to him. Oh, God! I hardly knew this man and my bare ass was on prominent display over his knee. “Mister Gryffin!” I protested. “Oh my God! Daddy! Sawyer! Please! I will be good! Owwww!”

  Ignoring my pleas, he’d picked up his belt and spanked me again, but this time, the folded leather snapped against my naked skin, a far more intense burn than before. I howled and squirmed but to no avail, smack after smack falling. I finally stopped fighting him. It did no good anyway. He was whipping my ass whether I agreed or not. Just as stinging smacks gave way to warmth, my head felt lighter, my whole body primed, he leaned down and whispered in my ear, “Are you going to be a good girl for Daddy, young lady?”

  “Yes,” I panted. “Oh, God, yes. I’m sorry.” What had come over me?

  He placed the belt down on the couch, spread his legs, and pulled me so that I straddled only one knee, my torso on the couch now, both feet planted on either side of his broad knee. My pussy throbbed against his knee, and I panted with desire as I heard him pick up the belt, but he did not spank me right away. From the corner of my eye, I watched as he held the buckle in his hand and wound it around, so that the end of the leather dangled from his huge hand. He pulled back and flicked the edge of the belt over my ass. Pain blossomed on my cheek, but it wasn’t as hard as the smacks of the folded leather. It stung, but as soon as the sting faded, heat pulsed through my pussy, and I felt arousal dampen my thighs.

  He reared back and snapped the belt again. My back arched on impact, my ass tingling from the sting. “Is Daddy going to have to keep punishing you?” Another smack followed another, as my need for release grew. With every smack of the belt, my pussy pushed against his leg. I closed my eyes, thankful he held me over his knee for if he didn’t, I’d have fallen straight onto the floor.

  “I…” I mumbled, my words slurred. “I will obey you.”

  The swats slowed now, a full thirty seconds between each stroke of his belt, the length of time between each thwap as arousing as if he stroked my clit, though he didn’t touch me. My excitement mounted, as he continued the slow, steady smacks of leather on my ass. I realized with sudden alarm that I could climax over his knee just by being spanked like this. He placed the belt down next to him, and I exhaled, my shoulders slouching, relieved that not only had he stopped punishing me, but that I hadn’t actually climaxed over his knee.

  Probing, gentle fingers stroked between my thighs and then upward. I held my breath as he drew closer to my clit, pinching the inside of my legs before he did.

  “Ouch!” I protested. “That hurt!”

  “So did the spanking I just gave you.” And with that he stroked me again. His fingers moved with ease through my damp folds. I’d never been touched like this by a man, and though it was embarrassing, I did not want him to stop. I needed him to bring me to climax. I writhed helplessly against his hand, grinding against his fingers as I geared up to climax. One hand stroked me while his second reached over my torso and found the edge of my dress, pushing the wide scoop neck down until he found my nipples. I closed my eyes, embarrassed, but he did not falter, pinching my nipples while stroking my clit. My breath caught in my throat and I bit my lip, eyes squeezed together tightly as my back arched, just on the precipice of losing control, but I couldn’t. I was right there, right on the edge, too aroused to allow myself to come. I whimpered with need, a dry sob wracking me. I was desperate to come, needed release, when his mouth came to my ear and he rasped, “You’ll be a good girl for Daddy. Do what Daddy says. Come for me, Annabelle.”

  Permission was what I needed. I screamed out loud as spasms of pleasure wracked my body. He held me fast and stroked me to completion as I gasped and moaned, panting for air. I had never come this hard in my life, and I knew the spanking he’d given me had something to do with that. He worked me over until he couldn’t wring another second of pleasure from my body, and his hand left my sex and rose. I shrieked as he let loose a hard, punishing swat with his bare hand against my ass before resting his palm against me.

  “I don’t want to punish you, Annabelle,” he said, which was a lie and we both knew it. I could feel his arousal straight through his pants, his length pressed up against my leg as I still straddled one knee. “You’ll do what I say.”

  “Yes!” I gasped.

  Another hard slap of his palm.

  “Yes, Daddy!”

  His hand rested gently on my vulnerable bottom. “You’re a good girl,” he said, righting my clothes and standing me on my feet.

  When he stood me in front of him, between his knees, nearly meeting his eyes even while he sat because he was so tall, he chucked a finger under my chi
n and his brows lifted as he fixed me with a chiding gaze. “You’ll eat your lunch, and meet me for dinner, and behave yourself, Annabelle. Won’t you?”

  Strange emotions rooted in my chest and belly. My nose stung and my throat tightened. I swallowed hard and merely nodded.

  Thankfully, he accepted the answer.

  Chapter Ten

  Sawyer

  I left Annabelle sorting out some of the clothing Lisa left her. Though some were on order, she had enough to start off a pretty substantial collection, and she needed some time to collect herself, I guessed. Had to be sort of weird to have your ass whipped and then to climax like that over some guy’s knee.

  My dick twitched.

  Though I’d fantasized about taking my belt to Annabelle’s beautiful round ass, I certainly did not plan on doing it.

  Fuck.

  I groaned, remembering her strewn over my knee. I couldn’t decide what was hotter, the way she felt pressed up against me when I took my belt to her ass, or the way her pink cheeks flushed when she came, or the way her beautiful mouth whispered, “Yes, Daddy.”

  I’d burn in hell for what I’d done.

  Might as well enjoy the ride.

  I grabbed a glass from the side table, twisted the lid of the decanter, and tipped some in, already feeling relaxation hit my gut from the mere smell of it. I swished it around in the glass and lifted it to my lips, closing my eyes as the liquid fire burned my throat and stomach. I exhaled with a sigh when I was finished, and placed the glass on the table with a soft clink when my phone buzzed.

  I answered it. “Yeah?”

  “Meeting’s been postponed for an hour, Mister Gryffin. Would you like to eat your lunch before we meet?”

  Alvin’s voice came over the line. I frowned. I’d told Annabelle I wouldn’t make it for lunch, and now I had time. I also wanted to be sure I was home in time for dinner.