Page 43 of Daddy's Princess

“Hey, daddy.” I almost don’t recognize the happy, dare-I-say, perky, quality to my voice.

“You’re late,” he growls.

I look at the clock and gasp when I realize how late it actually is. It’s a quarter to nine. Way later than I thought. “Oh, no. I missed dinner. I’m so sorry. I lost track of time.”

“I hate the idea of you being all alone at the office so late.”

I look around and notice Barry and one of the requisitions people still sitting in their workspaces. I let him know I’m not completely alone, but that doesn’t seem to do much to make him happy.

“My car is out front waiting for you.”

“You didn’t have to do that. I don’t mind taking the train.” Even as I say the words, I’m smiling at his thoughtfulness. Yes, I know I’m being a bit of a hypocrite in liking that he’s sending his driver to fetch me when I got mad at my mother for offering the same. It’s just different. Oliver is doing it because he cares about me. My mother wants me to take a hired driver because it’s below my status to ride the subway.

“Babygirl,” Oliver growls, “you are not walking alone in the middle of the night to the train station. No way. Besides, letting Luther drive you will get you in my arms faster. I’m a selfish bastard when it comes to the time I spend with you. I want it all. And I want to eliminate anything that’s in the way of spending as much time with you as possible.”

Who could say no to a thing like that? Certainly not this girl. “Okay. I’m leaving right now,” I say as I quickly toss my stuff into my bag. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Not soon enough.” Is his growly response before disconnecting the call.

Butterflies of excitement flutter in my belly as I practically skip to the elevator then to his car where Luther is waiting patiently for me like he’s not in the least bit put out by having to chauffeur me around town. As the anticipation builds for the moment that I can be back in Oliver’s arms, the car ride is both the fastest and longest of my life.

The doorman seems to be waiting for me because after helping me from the car, he leads me to the elevator, types in a code, and bids me a good evening just as the doors slide closed between us. The butterflies are in full-on riot mode as the elevator whisks me up to Oliver’s penthouse. My panties are suspiciously damp. The butterflies aren’t the only thing in my body that’s anticipating tonight.

Oliver is waiting just outside the elevator. I don’t hesitate to walk straight into his outspread arms. I tilt my face up to his for a kiss, and my whole body seems to sigh in relief at being reunited. The feeling should scare me, but it’s hard to be scared of anything when I’m safely ensconced in Oliver’s arms.

I was completely wrong about missing dinner. Not only did he save dinner for me, but he also cooked my favorite meal of lasagna and crusty garlic bread. “I didn’t know you could cook.”

Oliver shrugs as he feeds me another bite of food. Did I mention that when we got to the table, he pulled me down onto his lap and has been feeding me? I’m feeling like a pampered princess, and I totally don’t hate it.

“I’m thirty-five years old, it was either hire a full-time chef, eat delivery every night, or learn to cook. I’m not a fan of having a bunch of people in and out of my apartment every day and eating delivery isn’t good for the waistline.” Oliver pats his perfectly sculpted stomach with a cocky smirk.

“I think you could eat nothing but delivery for a year and be safe from worry about your waistline.”

Our conversation flows smoothly from topic to topic. There’s never any awkwardness. I think it’s the first time I’ve ever been with a man who didn’t either bore me to tears with talk of sports and cars or their jobs. It’s different with Oliver. We have a lot of the same interests. And not just of the kinky variety. We both have a wicked sweet tooth, love classic monster movies, camping, among a dozen other things. It’s refreshing.

“When do I get to see your progress on Fairyville?” Oliver asks.

I chew my lip, a nervous habit I can’t seem to break. “I’m not done yet.”

“I’m sure whatever you’ve got so far is fantastic. You forget I’ve seen your work before. And even if I hadn’t, my mother wouldn’t have approached you if you weren’t a brilliant artist.”

I nod. I know Oliver’s right, but those insecurities and doubts aren’t so easily silenced with reason. Especially since those doubts that my mind shouts at me suspiciously sounds like my mother.

“You can see it tomorrow if you have time,” I say with a yawn. I cuddle closer to his chest, laying my head on his shoulder. For long minutes neither of us says anything. I luxuriate in the sweetness of the moment. Me in Oliver’s lap, snuggled close, while he holds me in his arms. The feeling of his fingertips trailing over the exposed skin on my upper thigh. Not in a sexy way—I mean, it is sexy just because of who is touching me—but it’s a comforting touch. He’s not touching me to arouse me, he’s touching me because he can’t seem to help himself.

I must doze off because my next memory is of him carrying me to his bed. I sleepily let him help me undress. What is either seconds or hours later, I feel Oliver crawl under the covers and lay behind me, becoming the big spoon to my little spoon.

It’s utter perfection.

I fall into the most restful sleep I’ve ever had.

* * *

I can feelthe light from the big windows pouring into the room, letting me know it’s morning and time to wake up. But I’m having the most wonderful dream and don’t want to wake up. In my dream, Oliver’s mouth is between my legs. He’s devouring my pussy like it’s his job. My nipples are hard little points begging for attention. Dream-Oliver seems to know this because he reaches up my body and cups my breast in one hand. He kneads it before taking my nipple between his fingertips and pinching. He rolls the tender tip between his fingers until I’m gasping and clawing at his hair.

Just before my orgasm crashes over me, my eyes flick open, and I see a very real, totally not a dream, Oliver between my thighs. The orgasm washes over me in a sweet wave that sucks all the oxygen out of the room before sending me freefalling into bliss.

I collapse back on the mattress, gasping for breath. Oliver kisses his way up my body, taking time to give my sore nipple a gentle suck, then he’s eating at my mouth with the same hungry fervor he showed my pussy.

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