Page 18 of Sugar Daddies

Sometimes I hate that he’s the boss.

“Are you going to let go?” Daddy asks.

I pinch the triangle with a frown; he can easily step away and tear the tie from me., He’s three times stronger than me, and he is more than capable of smacking my hand away.

“Can I have one more kiss?” I ask with innocent eyes.

There is an underlying reason as to why I’m needy today, but my menstrual cycle isn’t due yet, so it must be the chocolate I ate yesterday. The effect of chocolate at nighttime triggers a systematic domino effect that leaves me emotional for reasons that escape me.

Daddy says I have a weird body.

He should never say that to a girl. It’s not nice to call a body weird under any circumstances, and he got my cold shoulders for that. It lasted a good five minutes before I went crawling back to him and beg for him to pat me.

I never said I had any dignity.

That was long gone by the time Daddy took me in as his little girl.

Daddy smooches my lips, and he goes beyond what I ask of him. His scratchy scruffs drag across my cheek as he presses his lip there. A giggle spreads my lips with a smile as he nuzzles my face. It tickles as the hair pokes my plump cheek.

“Stop it, Daddy, it tickles!” I squirm in his arms as he cages me to his body. His warmth radiates off his large frame, and my nipples harden under the nightshirt that I stole from his closet.

He has millions of the same white button-up shirt. He’s not going to miss this one with the wrinkles and creases on it.

“Stephan’s going to be home, and he wants to take you somewhere,” Daddy murmurs against my cheek, and I stop squirming to blink in confusion.

“Mr. Stephan?” I jerk my head back and cock it to the side.

He scolds, “He’s also Daddy to you.”

I swallow the hiccup and nod obediently. We didn’t discuss the elephant in the room so I didn’t know what I should be addressing Mr. Stephan as since Daddy is Daddy and Mr. Stephan isnotmy Daddy.

Apparently, I’m wrong, and Daddy doesn’t mind me calling his friend that.

Would it get confusing if I were to call for one and the other one answers?

“Don’t overthink this, little girl. You’re still mine, and don’t you ever forget that.”

I nod vigorously. If he says it’s okay for me to call Mr. Stephan that, then I don’t have to worry about him being offended if I don’t.

“I will see you tonight.” Daddy brushes my hair away and kisses me goodbye on the lips.

I reluctantly let him go and watch as he turns his head back to me from the door. The sternness in his eyes sends a message that I will behave because he always has a tab on me.

Waving him goodbye as he shuts the door, I’m left wondering why I was even angry in the first place, and I can’t remember the flare of frustration that got etched onto my skin like a flame licking the tender spots.

I shake my head from my thoughts. I have to get ready because Daddy said Mr. Stephan wants to take me somewhere, and I have no idea where so I choose what I always wear at home.

I wear a yellow sundress with my hair down. My neck is too exposed if I put them up and I’ll be shivering all day long. One hairstyle can change how my body adjusts to the temperature. It’s an odd thing, but I have learned to work with it.

Every pair of shoes is by the organizer at the front door where it is normal for people to put on house slippers when they come inside. I always forget so I would run around with bare feet, and Daddy made the cleaner clean the floor every day so my feet won’t be dirty or I don’t step on a splinter.

Glass is a rare thing to be stepped on. I would notice if I broke a glass and I would clean it the best I can. There is this amazing machine that just eats up everything on the ground, and it will suck up my headphones if I dropped them on the ground in front of the machine.

This mansion has weird gadgets that make life so much more convenient, but it also creeps me out at how smart they are. I have this irrational fear that artificial intelligence is going to turn on by itself one day, and I would be fighting against a vacuum and a coffee machine.

Daddy called me stupid for that, and I gave him the biggest pout because he didn’t take my fear seriously. It’s a legitimate worry that needs to be acknowledged, and he was so merciless when he made fun of me.

I humph at the memories and dart out the bedroom door with my dress flopping around my thighs. A part of me wonders if I should play it safe and wear something underneath, so I don’t accidentally flash someone.

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