Daddy's Naughty Girl

I exhale as I step out of the black SUV, smoothing the ruffles on my sky-blue, high-waist, school-girl skirt. I flip my hair as I look up at the black onyx building emblazoned with the words Hemsworth Holdings. I whip out a small mirror I always carry about with me and check my mascara, making sure my French-braided pigtails don't have any hair sticking out, and nod, satisfied with it.

"I can't take you enough for the ride," I call out to the driver as he pulls away. When there's a pedestrian break, I walk across the sidewalk toward the tall, imposing building. Where my presence has been gruffly requested.

Of course I have an idea why.

It's the email I sent from that burner account.

I can't believe my insane luck. Tristan really clicked on that link. I know him to be the strict disciplinarian who didn't trust the unknown, nor had any time for these little shenanigans no matter what. I was busy in the spa, thinking up a million other ways to get the website in his radar, when he called me.

I look up at the sky and see the heavens smiling down at me.

Judging by his steely tone on the phone, he has definitely seen my profile on the sugar babies website. I filled in an application to get featured on their sweltering hot corner last week, and my profile went live on the section last night. I've had over two-hundred friend requests, asking me for my contact, and offering to double the amount I needed for my tuition. I didn't read every single one of them because I wasn't planning on giving in to any one of those leeches. I have my big daddy in mind, so I won't give in to anything unless I fail at convincing Tristan to come for me. To give us what we both desperately need.

What we should've given ourselves a long time ago.

Please let him say yes and fuck me.

Please don't let him scold and throw me out without anything happening between us.

It has been two weeks since I had his hands on me and I feel like I'm empty, walking around like a zombie. I miss his touch, the scrape of his rough palms, and the gruff, manly rasp of his breath. I've lost count of the number of times I've spent sitting on my water closet with my legs spread open and two of my fingers stuffed in my clit, my eyes closed and my head thrown back in ecstasy as I replayed those moments in the kitchen when our lips met. Even now, walking through the air-conditioned lobby of his office building, heat pools up in between my legs as I think about how close we came to kissing.

Me, Lia, and Master Hemsworth.

Kissing.

Could you believe it? It'll be a dream come true. It'll mean progress.

The elevator arrives and I step inside amidst tall, solid trunks of black suits. I stifle a laugh as I look down at my appearance, shaking my head at how out of place I must seem. I stick out like blue butter icing, surrounded by businessmen my father's age. I face the wall to conceal my stuff nipples, remembering too late that I'm wearing a see-through blouse — the men are drawn like a bear to honey, their eyes roving over me hungrily. Two of them, hot, mighty, draw closer to me till I'm pressed into a corner of the elevator, my breath accelerated with nerves. Fear.

I need my big daddy.

I won't even try to deny it. I'm a flirt. Always enjoyed keeping men on their toes. No amount of interest rattles me. But only with stupid boys my age who I can easily throw off when they start craving more. I always warn them on time anyway, so they wouldn't blame me when they eventually fall for me.

I've never wanted more from them, or anyone.

I've only wanted more from one person only.

Tristan Hemsworth.

These men are older, bulky, and have a world of experience in their deeply-set, hard eyes. They've been with countless women of all ages and sizes, and are accustomed to getting what they want. My father has had guests like this over for brief business meetings or dinners sometimes. But I'm always careful not to be left alone with them. Not when they make their interest so blatantly obvious when no one is looking. It creeps me out.

I've got their full attention now, and it's unsettling. Four of them, I see in the mirrored wall. Their lips are curled in devious smirks. One of them starts unbuckling his belt, letting out a low maniacal chuckle — another about to hit the emergency stop button on the metal panel —

The doors suddenly roll open. And just in time too.

Tristan appears.

I exhale, slumping against the wall in relief. He steps forward, and with nothing more than a glare directed towards the leeching men, grabs my elbow and starts dragging me out of the elevator. Away from them, and directly into his big bear embrace.

I let out a happy sigh, my legs almost giving out at the giddy excitement of being held by Tristan.

My knight-in-shining armour. A messiah sent from above.

I ride my arms up, hooking them around his neck and inhale the wholesome, beautiful scent of musk and man from his well-presser suit, nearly moaning when he wraps me up tight, one arm around my shoulders, one low around the small of my back. When I look back up, I see that he's still giving the men at the elevator a death glare, baring his teeth at them in a possessively hot way that turns me on as much as it gives me hope. If he's possessive over me, there's no way he'll let me be on the sugar babies website, right?

Right?

He'll have no choice but to put an end to all these and finally claim me.

The elevator doors draw to a close, taking away the sea of dangerous men.

"You just have to give me the word, Lia. These men, I caught their faces on camera. I have their details. They'll be fired with just a snap of a finger. Anything you like. And it won't end there, they won't have it rosy in this city anymore. They'll be fucked, every last one of them," he lets out a curse. "I was watching the camera feed. I was worried that the camera wouldn't get here on time, my sweet girl..."

"But it did, big daddy. Now I'm in your arms...safe," I whisper into his neck, snuggling into his neck. "Thank you, Big Daddy. You came through."

Between our tightly pressed bodies, Tristan becomes fully erect. He cussed, swallowing hard, one of his large hands getting lost in the pink ruffles of my skirt. "You naughty, naughty girl. What is this damn outfit you're wearing? Throw in the pigtails and you look like a seven-year-old school girl."

"Well, I am a school-girl. I'm your school-girl."

"Perhaps, I should also treat you as one. Bad girls get punished, and you have been a bad girl. A very, very, bad, bad girl, Lia," he rasps, dragging his hand up the back of my skirt slowly and kneading my right cheek — just one glorious time — before he pulls his hand away, disentangling from me, letting out a shaking breathing. "Fuck this, Lia. Enough of these mind games."

Missing his hands, I revert back to my usual flirtatious routine, placing a hand on my hip and biting my bottom lip hard. "How is it my fault? You're the one who wanted to see me."

Tristan's eyes drops to my breasts and heats up. "Yeah. I must have been drunk or something," he mutters thickly, taking me by the wrist now. "You'll do as I say, Lia. Avoid any eye contact with any of the men in the supplement department, do you understand?"

"But — "

"No buts. Come on."

Smirking, I let him drag me out of the deserted marble desert floor and down a spacious hallway with navy-blue walls. At the end of it, there's a reception desk, a fleetingly, brightly-lit office beyond, packed full of analysts and traders, all paying keen attention to their computers. "Why can't I make eye contact?"

I yelp when he suddenly whirls around, pressing me up against the wall and pinning me down with a ferocious, lust-filled gaze. "Because you look like you desperately want to be fucked. Any man you look at automatically takes it as an invitation that you're into him."

His big chest and stomach are squashing me, but I relish it. "Why should I care? That's clearly their problem, not mine."

"Don't. Look. At. A. Single. One. Of. Them, Lia." His hand circles my throat, tightening ever so slightly. "I'm in a very bad mood. If one of those musty dickheads show any interest in you, I won't hesitate to have them fired immediately. I don't care. If I have to fire every man that looks at you stupidly, I will."

"Oh, Big Daddy," I whine, trailing a finger down his chest. "If you want me all to yourself, you can just say it. Stop beating around the bush."

He's right on the verge of agreeing with my statement. I can feel it. But at the last second he blows out an unsteady breath and continues leading me down the office. You don't expect me to actually listen to him now, do you? I thrive on setting Tristan off, and so I disobey him and make contact with some inconsequential dimwit. Luckily , he doesn't notice, itching for privacy. I want nothing but to be alone with him to blow my chance too, so I keep my down on the black carpet until we're safely enclosed in his office.