Page 39 of Sugar Daddies

I don’t know how the laws work, but I’m pretty sure I can’t marry both of my Daddies. I’ll leave those legalities to them since they always have the option to work around the legal system and find a way to connect the three of us together.

“Daddy?” I peer through the side of the door with my head, and he glances up from the computer.

The taps on the keys stop as he waves me over. I don’t have to ask for permission to enter the office, but it doesn’t hurt to do it. I never want to interrupt him when he’s in the middle of a video conference or on important business. He shouldn’t have to divide his attention for me.

He asks, “What’s wrong?” Silently, he scans my body for any injury.

I didn’t trip over the rug, the kitchen island wasn’t in my way, and I didn’t crush my toes on the door. Nothing happened, and I can see it in his eyes when he scans the exposed skin of my attire.

It’s a silver silk dress that Daddy got custom made for this event, and I don’t have the heels on yet because I need to let my ankles relax as much as possible before standing in them for an entire night.

The event is a promotion for a new line of chocolate that Mr. Stephan had brought back from his trip from who knows where. It was a city name that I couldn’t spell or pronounce. I don’t think I have ever heard it either.

The line is the exact type of sweet that I had, the golden flakes wrapped chocolate and the citrusy flavor in the middle. Mr. Stephan had been designing it at his overseas office, and it turns out to be my latest favorite. My Daddies decided to launch the line, and that’s why they have been so busy these couple of months.

I’m so proud of them.

“Little girl?” Daddy’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts.

I smile and peck him on the lips, “Daddy, can I ride a horse?”

I know Daddy is going to say no. Riding horses is a dangerous activity even under professional care, and I know how protective Daddy is of me since my body isn’t equipped to handle a fall from the horse or a kick to the guts.

My internal organs would get rearranged.

“I will have the best horse trainer for you, but either Stephan or I will be there to supervise.”

Well, this is shocking.

He refused my need to play golf a year ago. I had a phase where I wanted to play golf for unfathomed reasons, and he said no. His reasoning can’t be more ridiculous; he said there is a chance that a stray gold ball would hit me and I could die from the impact.

“T-thank you?” I said, incredulity rising in my tone.

“Did you think I’d say no?” He cocks his eyebrow.

A crooked smile spreading over the moist lips of mine, “Yeah, you never let me do these things.”

“You mean things that can hurt you,” Daddy deadpans, wrapping his long fingers around my wrist.

“Waxing only hurts just for a second,” I counter back, lopping my arms around his neck and bopping our foreheads together.

“I got you laser.”

I grimace at the thought, “That hurt.”

“Short-term pain beats long-term.” He seals his lips over mine.

It felt like rubber bands snapping on my skin, and it was the worst when it got to my bikini area. I may or may not have cried for a bit because I am a weak coward who doesn’t like pain that isn’t inflicted through pleasurable rewards.

The door opens, and Mr. Stephan comes in with his grey suit; it’s like watching a supermodel come to life from a magazine.

I lick my lips at the delicious sight as he strolls up to us. The way his body fills in the shirt makes me wonder if he’s wearing it or if the suit is wearing him. It sticks to him like a sinful second skin that I want to peel back and lick the hidden treasure beneath it.

Daddy doesn’t lose in that department when he stands; his tight black suit and thick thighs pull at the fabrics. My knees grow weak from seeing so many stimulants. A silver watch locks on his wrist with his tattoos hidden from the world.

They are mine to see and lick from. It’s tempting to beg them to stay home with me and let me play with their massive bodies to the point that they lose patience and fuck me through the nightly hours with echoes of my moans through the mansion.

That’s the kind of night that I want, not some promotion with rich people and the expensive stick up their butts. Though, it is Daddies’ big night where they’re going to reel in bigger fishes and grander revenue.

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