Page 10 of Daddy's Pretty Baby

CHAPTER FOUR

Robert

Melissa arrived at the dinner table just a few minutes late, slightly out of breath.

“I’m so sorry,” she apologized, seating herself at the big table. “I didn’t mean to keep you waiting.

I ignored her, taking my napkin off the plate and spreading it over my lap. The brunette would learn fast enough, she’d be up to speed in no time given what happened this afternoon. The little girl showed plenty of promise, the ability to be a star student, just as Angela had hinted.

Because I’d gotten an urgent call from my aide this morning.

“Mr. Lancaster,” came the woman’s voice. “I’m sorry to bother you, but the housesitter has arrived and I think you’ll enjoy her services,” she said courteously. My eyebrows raised. The last woman who’d come had been okay at best, I’d sent her packing after one week. Oh yeah, Katrina had been into DD/lg play, but that psychopath had been way too into it. She’d completely lost her mind, letting out great belches like she was a baby who couldn’t control herself, throwing tantrums three times a night. Shit, even I don’t go that far.

So I was skeptical when Angela called, but then again, my assistant knows her stuff and has been at my side for years.

“You sure?” I grunted into the receiver. It was morning in Buenos Aires, and I was sunning myself by the pool with a drink in hand.

“Absolutely,” came Angela’s voice, confident over the phone. “You’re gonna enjoy her.”

So I grunted and hung up, standing and stretching slowly. Buenos Aires is fucking awesome in the summer and I was having a blast, the women with their huge asses, gazongas bared at the beach like it was no big deal. But still, I didn’t have a girl here, and wanted to have some private time with a true baby. And shit, the experience of training a new one? A good one? It made my blood rush and dick hard, breaking in a new girl can be fun if you’re a good Daddy.

So I chartered a plane, hopping Stateside within a couple hours. And sure enough, there was a beautiful brunette sunning herself by the pool when I arrived at Valley Pine. Whatever her name was, she was fucking gorgeous. Laying on a lounger, her curls spread beneath that curvy form, skin gleaming in the sunlight. And fuck, but she was wearing the tiniest bikini, fabric patches just barely covering her snatch and areolas. It was crazy, where did they even sell suits like this?

But Angela had been right. The woman was just my type, exactly up my alley. Mel, or Melly as I like to say, blew me away, she was docile without being a robot, adjusting immediately to my commanding ways, listening and picking things up on the fly.

“Daddy,” she said, experimentally rolling the word on her lips. “Daddy want to lick?”

And fuck, but yes, I did. There was nothing more that I wanted to do than to taste that pink snatch, the girl pulling her bikini bottoms to the side to show me her slit. But it wasn’t the time. The ground rules hadn’t been set yet, so I reined myself in and shook my head.

“Naw, after dinner baby,” I growled. “After dinner, Daddy will sample you.”

And here we were now, at the table, the two of us. I was still dressed in my black suit but Melly had thrown on some clothes, and they were ridiculous. I guess they were okay for the outside world, but they were ludicrous given our relationship.

As the steak was served, I looked over her coolly.

“Did you read your contract?” I asked, voice smooth.

“Yes,” her head bobbed. “Yes definitely.”

“Well, why aren’t you wearing the clothes in your closet then?” I asked, taking a bite of the succulent meat. “Why are you wearing this garbage?”

Melly flushed a bit.

“This isn’t garbage,” she stuttered, outraged. “This is my nicest skirt and sweater, I wore them to interview yesterday. And these are my nicest shoes!” she protested.

I took in her outfit with distaste. Yeah, I guess the sweater was a cashmere of sorts, the cheapest kind, a wool blend. And the skirt was okay, a pencil with a slit up the back, but it was nothing special. The only saving grace was her shoes. Those Mary Janes were hot, exactly what a little girl should be wearing.

But I didn’t let on. Instead, I merely took another bite.

“Did you at least look in your closet?” I asked again, giving nothing away. “Everything there is tailored to your size.”

And here, Melissa stopped eating. She put her knife and fork down and took a deep breath before looking up at me.

“I wanted to ask you about that,” she said slowly. “The stuff looks adult sized, but it’s kids clothes.”

I merely chewed some spinach then, my expression giving nothing away, totally impassive.

“So?” I queried. “What’s the problem?”

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