Daddy Me

by Dukey, Ker

  “Look at your face. Why would you hide such beauty beneath makeup?” I question, admiring the creamy skin, naturally tinted rose lips, and blue almond-shaped eyes that could bring a man to his knees in worship.

  “It’s a mask, I suppose,” she answers, but her tone is unsure like she’s asking the question rather than solving one.

  Releasing her jaw, I work at removing the feathers in an array of colors from her hair and push her own dark strands over her shoulders when I’m done.

  “You don’t need to wear masks, Sofina. Just be you. You’re magnificent.”

  Her chest rises and falls rapidly as she roams my face in the mirror. Her pouty, fat lips are parting with need. I’ve never had such intense, immediate chemistry with a woman before. But there’s this pulsing need like a magnetic pull inside me, anchoring me to her.

  “I’ll offer you a recording contract today if you’re ready for it,” I tell her, making her eyes expand.

  She spins to face me, a small hand covering her mouth.

  “You have to be ready to take your opportunity, though,” I tell her firmly. “To become who you’re destined to be.”

  “I’m ready.” She nods rapidly, tears filling her eyes, making them shine even brighter.

  “Good. I’ll get a contract written up.”

  Because I’m ready, too.

  After he takes my phone and inputs his number, he walks over to his safe on the wall behind his desk. I’m frozen in place as I stare at his perfect form. Tall, built, handsome. Every girl’s wet dream.

  Focus, Sof.

  A man like him doesn’t get with a girl like you.

  He’s refined, successful, and drips with masculinity.

  I’m a girl who wears makeup to pretend she’s someone better than she is.

  Behind the makeup and the mask he wants me to stop hiding behind, I’m just Sofina Russo. A glorified bartender.

  I need not get caught up in this fairy tale feel.

  He’s not a charming prince and I’m certainly no princess.

  Looking down at the wad of cash Mr. Hayes places in my palm, I furrow my brows. “What is this?”

  It’s more money than I can make in a year—hell, two.

  “Let’s call it an advance,” he rumbles. “I want you to go shopping. Find your true style. No mask, Sofina. Show me and the world who you truly are.”

  Okay, so maybe he’s a little charming and a little prince like.

  He curls his fist over mine, sending currents of excitement shooting through me at his touch, and places my handful of cash against my chest. I wonder if he can feel the way my heart is hammering against my ribcage. His lips lift in a gentle, encouraging smile.

  “Have fun. Spoil yourself and learn about the real you.”

  “I can’t accept this,” I murmur, heat burning up my neck.

  He lifts a brow. “You can and you will.” His tone brokers no room for argument.

  “Thank you.” My voice is soft and breathy. I don’t even sound like myself.

  “You’re welcome.” His dark eyes flicker with an emotion I don’t quite know how to read. “We’ll be in touch soon.”

  At his soft dismissal, I scurry from his office. The secretary gives me a go to hell look, but I ignore her. I’m too busy shoving a giant wad of money into my purse.

  Thousands.

  He gave me thousands like it was no big deal.

  Pocket change to a man of his caliber, but to a girl who competes for her tips with three other bartenders, it’s everything.

  I wonder how many artists he has to do this with, strip them down to the bare, raw marrow underneath. My mind flips to the image of the girl who was sitting in his lap when I arrived. Maybe my brother is right, and I’ll have to thank him for this money later down the line?

  No.

  No way.

  Ronan of all people doesn’t need to be a slimy jerk. He’s too successful and rich and handsome to need to coerce women. Oh God, he’s handsome. And he smelled divine. Masculine and powerful.

  Shit, I’m so attracted to him.

  But that’s not why he gave me the money—because he thinks I’m pretty and wants to make me his. No, it’s an investment in his artist.

  Holy hell, I’m going to be his artist.

  My stomach roils, and a wave of nausea washes through me. That really happened. I open my purse once more and look in at the money to make sure I didn’t fantasize the whole thing. Nope! Green bills, lots of them. It suddenly feels okay. Like I’m being awarded a small amount of pleasure in my life that’s held nothing of the sort thus far.

  In somewhat of a daze, I head straight for the bar. My break was over an hour ago, and Lucca will ride my ass for it. For the first time in a long time, I don’t care.

  Three days I’ve had this money. I haven’t been brave enough to spend it.

  Running my hands through the dollar bills, I spread them out on the bed and lie on top of it, thinking about Mr. Hayes.

  Every day I get myself off to thoughts of him to the point of soreness. He’s consuming my mind and body, and he doesn’t even know it. It’s becoming an embarrassing obsession. Thankfully it’s my dirty little secret and no one is none the wiser.

  My fingers dance over my skin, teasing myself, making my heart skip as I reach into the vault of my mind for his image. Flicking my tongue out to wet my lips, my back arches from the mattress as I touch myself and fantasize about the way he gripped my face after marching me into his bathroom. Heat and hard muscle caging me in as he forced me to look into the mirror. My clit throbs as I circle it with the pad of my fingers.

  “You don’t need to wear masks, Sofina. Just be you. You’re magnificent.”

  A gasp escapes my lips when my mind conjures up his words and whispers them back to me over and over.

  I imagine him pushing me forward, my hands reaching out to brace against the sink. His eyes are heating as they watch me in the mirror, those giant palms siding down my neck, arms, hips, thighs, ripping away the clothing barriers until I’m bare before him. My stomach dips and warm pleasure teeters me on the edge of orgasm. I imagine his hard cock being released from his slacks and slapping down on my ass crack, the heaviness of it making my pussy drip with an appreciation of what’s to come. His eyes never leave mine as my pussy pulsates, begging for his huge dick to plunge into me. My nipples ache with the need to be sucked on and tormented. His hands splay across my ass cheeks and spread them, teasing my tight butthole with the threat of penetration. My breathing is hitched and legs spread farther apart on the bed so I can push three fingers inside. I’m slick and swollen with just the thoughts of him. I’d probably buckle like an overfilled dam if he actually touched me.

  “Yes, yes,” I pant as a wave of euphoria ripples through me when my thoughts go to him moving down from my asshole and taking my pussy with one forceful jerk of his hips. I snap from my fantasy when my door bursts open.

  “Sofina, did you take my…oh, Jesus Christ, Sof.”

  Pulling the covers over my body, I point to the door screaming, “Get the fuck out, Lucca.”

  “I’m sorry,” he grumbles, covering his eyes as he turns back toward the door. “Just wanted my black Candlebox sweatshirt. Have you seen it?”

  Seriously.

  Brothers.

  Mine’s an asshole.

  “Fuck off, Lucca,” I snap before muttering, “I’m never coming out of my room again.”

  “Don’t be dramatic,” he bites back as he stomps away.

  I listen for his footfalls to fade down the hall and scrub my hands over my face. Mortifying.

  When I finally come downstairs, he’s in the kitchen eating a bowl of cereal.

  His eyes scan me over the lip of the bowl as he shovels spoonful after spoonful into his mouth like a starved teen. I spot his Candlebox sweatshirt crumpled up on one of the chairs and roll my eyes.

  “You shouldn’t barge into my room like that.”

  “Obviously. Don’t want to see that shit ag
ain.”

  I flip him off.

  “Was that money you were rolling around in?” he asks. When I don’t answer, he puts down his bowl and folds his arms over his chest. “Where did you get that kind of money?” He walks over to where I’m standing and narrows his eyes on me. “Because I know you don’t make those kinds of tips.”

  I reach down for his sweater and shove it into his chest. “It’s none of your damn business. And stay out of my room.”

  “Did that record label prick give you that with talks of how special you are?” He smirks.

  “Fuck you, Lucca. Why are you so against me being more than a bartender? Is it because you’re worried I’ll leave you like everyone else has?”

  His fingers grip my shoulders digging into the flesh, making me wince. “I gave up my entire life to come back here for you,” he snarls. “We live in the real world, Sof, with bills to pay in order to keep a roof over our heads. I can’t be filling your head with dreams, knowing at the end of the day you’re going to end up right back here working Dad’s bar like me.”

  Knocking his hands away, I shake my head. “Not me, Luc. It’s going to be different for me.”

  Snorting, he shakes his head. “Yeah, that’s what I said too, and then Dad drank himself to death and I had to come home and raise you, so you didn’t end up in the system.”

  “Maybe it would have been better if I did,” I lie, spitting venom.

  He grits his teeth and a muscle ticks in his jaw. “Take that back.”

  “I gotta go, or I’ll be late for work,” I snap, waltzing out. “Can’t have that. My boss is a real douchebag.”

  I hear his calls all the way to the end of the front yard, but I ignore every single one of them.

  Three days I’ve kept my distance. Three long days. It’s unusual for someone to have such a hold on me, but there it is all the same. An aura in the air whenever I think of her, and it’s a fucking lot.

  Sofina.

  Fuck, I can’t get her plump lips out of my mind.

  Me: I’m signing her.

  My phone chirps with an incoming message from my brother.

  Ren: Told you.

  Confident little shit.

  Eve jumps up from her desk as I walk through the lobby of our building.

  “Oh, Mr. Hayes. I’m sorry to bother you first thing, sir, but we had an irate man call saying some awful things.” She’s out of breath and clearly flustered from the ordeal.

  Placing my hand on her arm, I usher her down the corridor to my office and pour her some water. “Take a breath, and when you’re ready, tell me what the man said exactly.”

  That arrogant little prick.

  Sofina’s asshole brother crossed a line today.

  How fucking dare he think he can call the main desk and rant about me paying Sofina for things that never happened.

  Pushing my foot down, I speed the entire way to their bar.

  Fire rages in my gut as I swing the door open and step inside. It’s dead. Not a soul in sight. A shuffling sound filters through the air from behind the bar, but I don’t see anyone there. Marching toward the sound, I look over the chipped bar and frown. Sofina is on her knees, scrubbing the floor with a brush.

  “What are you doing?” I bark, and she lets out a scream, her body jolting and knocking into the bucket of water with her knees that she’s bent over, causing it to splash up and everywhere, including all over the front of her shirt.

  “Oh my God! You scared the crap out of me.” She gasps, holding a hand to her chest. She then attempts to wipe her wet splotched shirt, but only makes the fabric stick to her skin and highlight the mounds of her breasts.

  Standing, she awkwardly holds the shirt out away from her body and looks around me at the door. “We’re not open yet,” she says before biting her lip.

  “Why haven’t you spent the money I gave you?” I ask her, placing my hands in my pockets, so I don’t reach out and tear the fabric away and take her on the bar.

  Not yet anyway.

  Her eyes enlarge, and she shifts from foot to foot. “How do you know I haven’t?”

  She’s adorable, and the anger that was burning bright in my veins moments before is now at a simmer.

  “Your brother called my office. He found you with it.”

  A beautiful pink tinge blossoms up her neck and over her cheeks.

  Gulping, she looks down at her feet. “What exactly did he say?”

  Shit not worth repeating. Shit that made her sound like a whore and me some kind of pimp. Fuck him.

  “Look at me, Sofina,” I demand, and she inhales roughly when I say her name.

  Her head tilts up to stare at me, her pupils expanding as she darts her gaze between my eyes and lips.

  “Do I intimidate you?” I ask her, slipping my hand from my pockets and leaning them on the bar.

  She shakes her head, dropping her hands from her wet shirt and breathing heavily.

  “You excite me,” she admits. Honest and brave. Her words make my cock grow thick and heavy in my slacks.

  She’s a fucking hot mess, her hair messily gathered on top of her head, wet soggy sweats and a T-shirt two sizes too big for her frame. And yet I’ve never been more attracted to a person in my life. A way that has less to do with her looks and more about how she makes me feel in her presence.

  Aroused.

  Protective.

  Possessive and in control.

  “You should take off those wet clothes before you get sick,” I rumble.

  There’s silence, and then she reaches for the hem of her shirt and lifts it over her head, dropping it to the floor with a splat and staring at me as her chest heaves. Her full round tits in her bra jiggle in an enticing way.

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  Slipping my jacket off, I walk around the bar and step into her space. She’s frozen like a deer in headlights, and it excites me more than I like to admit.

  Bringing my body up close behind hers, I relish the heat of her bare flesh burning into my shirt. I could take her right here, a big fuck you to her brother. But I’m not the asshole he thinks I am. I could have any woman I want. I don’t need to sign Sofina to get her in my bed or give her money. She would succumb to me willingly either way.

  Draping my jacket over her shoulders, I lean down, stroking my fingers across her neck as I remove a stray strand to tuck behind her ear before I whisper, “I’ll see you soon. Spend the money, sweet Sofina.”

  I’ve not stroked my own cock in a long time, but here I am like a rampant teenager tugging at the fucking thing like it’s going to produce a genie and give me three wishes.

  Sofina.

  Sofina.

  Sofina.

  After I left her, I came straight back to work and called Starla into my office to let her know I was ending things a little sooner than planned.

  Our time together was over. She cried as I hugged her. Asked if I was sure. I gently told her it was me and not her. Cliché and a little tacky but necessary.

  It’s the truth.

  It’s a truth I warned her of in the beginning, which she understood and agreed to.

  As long as we were in our relationship, I would take care of her. But that I would never date her long-term or marry her. I was very upfront. At the time, she was eager to comply with my rules. She was saving for school that I’ve now taken care of for her. She wanted the money and attention and praise. She wanted the mind-blowing sex.

  And I gave it to her selfishly.

  But I respect her too much to be fucking her all the while thinking of another.

  It’s unfair.

  My phone lights up mid stroke, interrupting my efforts. I growl, shoving my cock back in my slacks and snatching up the phone. It’s a picture message. Sofina is lying on a bed surrounded by money.

  Fuck.

  Two seconds later, a written message comes in.

  Unknown Number: How do I know what my style is? You want me to spend all this money, but I don’t know that I can.
It’s harder than you think.

  I’m harder than she fucking thinks.

  I add her name to the number and stroke my fingers over her image.

  She’s wearing a tank top and cotton pajama shorts.

  I check my watch to see it’s after nine. I should really head home, but instead, I hit call.

  “Hello?”

  “Are you not working tonight?” I enquire.

  “No, I was in today, but it’s Lucca’s late shift tonight. I’m home…alone.”

  A deep laugh resonates from my chest.

  “You shouldn’t tell men you’re home alone, sweet Sofina. It’s a sure way to have uninvited guests stopping over.”

  “You wouldn’t be uninvited,” she breathes.

  Goddamn, she takes me from zero to a hundred in a second. Every part of me buzzes and burns with need.

  “You’re playing with fire,” I growl.

  “I’m on fire,” she whispers, her voice taking on a husky undertone.

  “Sofina, are you being a bad girl?” I groan, releasing my cock once more and giving the tip a squeeze.

  “Depends on what you classify as bad, Mr. Hayes.”

  Fuck.

  “Tell me what you’re doing right now.”

  “Lying on my bed.” A soft sigh escapes her. “On the money you gave me.”

  “And?”

  “And speaking to you…while I touch myself.”

  “Where are you touching yourself?”

  “My breasts and now…”

  Heavy breathing sounds make my cock strain for release. I’m so fucking hard I could burst.

  “And now?” I prompt.

  “Inside my shorts,” she pants out.

  “Say the words, Sofina. What are you touching?”

  “My…my pussy.”

  Good girl. Shit, I didn’t expect this from her. There’s a reason I’m so fucking attracted to her. It’s because she craves my praise and approval, probably as much as I want to give it.

  “Tell me what it feels like to touch yourself,” I urge.

  “Gooooood,” she drawls out. “I’m wet and warm and tight, Mr. Hayes.”