Page 32 of Daddy's Princess

“Is that so?”

“Yes.” Somehow the word comes out with confidence and doesn’t reflect any of the ‘oh shit’ I’m actually feeling at being busted skipping out on work. Though, I have a feeling Oliver isn’t calling me out on faking an illness but for me leaving to put as much distance between us as possible.

“Or are you just trying to avoid me?” Yep, he knows.

“Maybe…” I hedge.

Oliver sighs. “I thought we were on the same page. I never would have—”

I cut him off because I don’t want him feeling like he took advantage of the situation. Lord knows I was culpable for what happened in the elevator just as much, or even more than Oliver. “I kissed you. You didn’t exactly force me to—”

“Fall to your knees as swallow my cock like you were made to suck it?” Oliver growls into the phone, and even though that was exactly what I was thinking of, I can feel myself blushing a million shades of red. Especially when I realize how intently Nick is listening to my half of the conversation.

Nick’s raised eyebrows make me wonder if he overheard Oliver crudely talking about me giving him a blow job. I can’t help but wonder what Nick would think if he knew I was sitting here without panties because my boss ripped them away so he could eat my pussy… then rubbed his hard cock all over me until he lost control and covered my pussy in his release.

“Yeah, that.” I try really hard to sound normal, but I have a feeling my words come out breathier than normal. Just thinking about the elevator makes my nipples hard and my pussy slick with want.

Nick must pick up how uncomfortable I am having this conversation with an audience because he grabs my broken pencil and sketchbook and writes something down. He hands the book back to me, and I see he’s written his name and number on the same page that Buddy wrecked.

“Call me, we’ll do lunch.”

Even though Nick says it quietly, I can tell by the way Oliver sucks in his next breath, he heard him.

“Who the fuck is that? Are you out with another man? Did you even pause to wash my come off your pussy before running off to another man?” The words are gritted out between clenched teeth. I can practically see the feral look in his eyes. It would be the same fearsome look he had when Jack insulted me at the club. It’s sexy as hell, and if he hadn’t just insinuated that I’m a slut, I would be turned on beyond belief. As it is, I’m equal parts pissed off and hurt by his assumption.

“It was a guy I met at the park when his dog nearly trampled me. How dare you—” My voice cracks, and I lose the ability to speak or else I’ll cry, and I refuse to allow myself to be hurt by his careless words.

Oliver and I are basically strangers. Just because we did a scene together and by some twist of fate ended up working at the same place, doesn’t mean we know each other. It’s my fault for expecting better from him than the other doms at the club.

“I’m sorry, babygirl. I heard a man tell you to call him, and I lost my mind for a second. Just the idea of another man touching you makes me crazy.”

I shouldn’t like that he’s already acting possessive of me, but I do. It’s a slippery slope for sure. What happens if he’s just like Cody? It was months before I realized what was happening with Cody… His possessive, controlling ways are the reason I’ve stayed away from any kind of relationship casual or otherwise. I have the distinct impression that no matter my intentions with Oliver, casual is not going to be possible.

Part of me wants to see what would happen if I let myself go. If I gave myself permission to trust. No matter how hard I try to paint Oliver with the same brush as Cody, it doesn’t seem to work. Yes, Oliver is showing signs of his possessiveness, but he’s also self-possessed and confident. He isn’t the type of man who needs to isolate his submissive to keep her all to himself. Something tells me he’s also not the kind of dominant that wants omnipotent power when it comes to his submissive. In fact, I know he doesn’t. He seems to appreciate this new brattier Sugar only he brings out in me.

But what if I’m wrong?

“Where are you?” Oliver breaks the runaway train that is my thoughts.

“I’m at the park.” I shrug even though I know he can’t see it. “I like to come here to think sometimes,” I add.

“And you have a lot to think about this afternoon?”

I laugh at his question. “More than usual, that’s for sure.”

“Are you thinking up excuses for why you and I shouldn’t explore where this thing between us can go?”

I decide to answer him honestly. I’m already barely treading water in my attempts to keep him at arms-length. I might as well go all in. “The thought has crossed my mind a time or two.”

“And have you come up with any answers?”

“None that don’t scare me.” Ugh, this honesty thing makes me feel vulnerable. I’m not very good at feeling this way.

“Would giving me a chance be so terrible?” His next words are drowned out by sirens. It takes me a few seconds to realize I hear the sirens from both the busy street on the other side of the hedge that surrounds the park, making it feel like an oasis in the middle of the bustling city and through my phone.

It’s my turn to question his location. “Where are you?” I ask suspiciously, looking around me. I almost drop my phone when I see Oliver cresting the hill just a few short feet away. He doesn’t see me yet, and I take the moments reprieve to take in his commanding presence.

He’s still dressed in his perfectly pressed suit. I don’t know how he manages to look so put together even though I know just a few hours ago his pants were down around his knees. His shirt bunched up, giving me access to those incredible abs of his. Yet, here he stands without a single wrinkle in his thousand-dollar suit.

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