Page 3 of Daddy's Temptation

I don’t want to tell anyone—not even my best friend—what’s happening at work. I especially don’t want to talk about Andre and how confused I am where he’s concerned. And yet, when no one pushes me to open up, I’m hurt.

I’m an idiot.

2

Andre

I slamthe phone down harder than necessary. It’s not even a little satisfying. What I need to do is head to the gym and beat the shit out of a heavy bag. It seems like everything in my life is determined to frustrate me. I’ve been working towards opening a second location of Bidden and Bound for months now and every step of the way something goes wrong.

That was yet another call from my real estate agent letting me know that the location I want to purchase has been sold out from under me. Thankfully my agent seems to be prepared for the worst-case because she’s already got two more properties lined up for me to look at. I’ve already decided that the next property that suits my needs, I’m offering over asking price with cash payment upfront. Fuck this being outbid bullshit.

Bidden and Bound has outgrown having just one location. The club is packed seven nights a week, and I’ve had to waitlist potential members. I need that second club open sooner rather than later.

There’s a brisk knock on my doorframe. Not waiting for an invitation, Levi saunters into my office and takes a seat across from me. “You look tense, boss.”

“The Hyde Street property sold.”

“Shit, that sucks. It’s like the world doesn’t want a B&B two-point-oh or something,” Levi jokes.

The look on my face must say it all because he puts his hands up in surrender. “I’m just kidding, boss. Maybe you should go find a nice little subbie and take out a little of that frustration on a nice curvy ass.”

The idea has merit. It’s been longer than I can remember since I played with anyone. The problem is the only curvy ass I want to leave my mark on is avoiding me. Only one woman will satisfy my need to dominate. An empty scene doling out measured pain and pleasure with some faceless submissive doesn’t appeal in the slightest.

Hasn’t for a long time.

When I first opened the club, I got a reputation. I won’t lie, I played a lot. I was a twenty-something with deep pockets and had women lining up to be tied down and under my control. It suited my lifestyle just fine. I didn’t want a relationship. Love ruins everything, and I refused to let it destroy me too. Imagining Candace as mine tramples all over my no relationships rule.

I can see myself—the real me—giving her everything. I’ve never been tempted like she tempts me. Needs that I pushed down a long time ago are breaking free. I gave into them once, and it turned out badly… Candace is different though. She already knows who she is and what she wants. Maybe that’s why it’s so easy to see things being different with her.

I grunt in response, then turn on the security feed. My eyes find her in a second. After a month of hiding, she’s here. Candace, my angel. I can still taste her soft cherry lips.

“I think Chloe is here…” Levi says trailing off when he sees what caught my attention. “It’s like that, is it?”

“I guess so.”

Levi laughs. “You could sound a little happier about it. Candace is a great girl. Is it because she’s a little?”

My look turns deadly. “She’s utter perfection. It doesn’t matter what she is or isn’t.”

“Good answer, boss.” Levi smirks and leaves my office. I appreciate that he’s protective of the submissives at the club. It’s what makes him the best dungeon monitor I have—he takes care of all of them as if they’re his own to protect.

I turn my attention back to the screen so I can watch my angel. She bypasses the bar and heads to the part of the club the littles have dubbed the dollhouse. Jealousy bubbles up like molten lava. Is she here to play? The very thought of her coming to the club with the intentions of playing with anyone but me makes me want to tear the whole club to the ground.

She’s mine whether she knows it or not. I might regret it come morning, but for tonight, Candace is mine.

3

Candace

The club is packed.Of course, it’s a Saturday night. The whole reason I am here right now is because I couldn’t stand another night at home alone. You would think after months of living alone I’d be used to it. I just can’t get used to the silence. No matter how loud the TV is or how much music I play, the apartment is too quiet.

I contemplate going to the bar, drowning in alcohol seems like a poor choice in my current state of mind. Instead, I head to the dollhouse. I look around as I weave through the throng of people. Lying to myself that I’m just taking in the different scenes happening when in truth, I’m looking for one specific face in the crowd—disappointment flares when I don’t see Andre.

No matter how many times I try to scrub the memory of his hands on my body, his mouth on mine, it doesn’t work. It’s all I can think about. I’ve touched myself a dozen times in the last month to the memory of that one stolen moment in time in hopes that it would be enough to exorcise the cravings. It hasn’t worked. In fact, I think it’s just made things worse. Every time I’m left feeling empty and needy.

The dollhouse is almost as busy as the rest of the club. Everywhere I look, daddies are playing with their little girls. There are smiles and gleeful laughter from happy littles. Tears and whimpers from naughty girls. It’s a smorgasbord of kinky fun. I find a spot at one of the many tables set up with activities for us and grab a clump of clay. I’m not in the mood to slip into little space, but I can at least look like I’m not a miserable twat.

I smash the clay harder than necessary and jab my finger into the pliant surface. I squeeze it in my fist like a stress ball, then take the squished mess and roll it back into a ball to smash again. One of the littles who was making some sort of animal sculpture abandons her project in the face of my obvious turmoil.

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