7: Lia.
I've been in my father’s office multiple times, which is impressive, but Tristan’ s is even more so. Two walls made up entirely of windows overlooking the financial district. A leather sofa in front of a fireplace. And on the other side of the office, there are built in bookshelves behind a humongous desk. He leads me over to it now, hitting a button on his phone that brings down the blinds on the windows, darkening the office, except for the flicker of the fireplace and the glow of his computer.
With a firm hand on my back, Tristan bends me forward over his desk, putting my face right in front of the screen—and there it is. The sugar babies website has been pulled up and my profile is open. Just knowing he looked at these pictures of me so scantily dressed wets my panties, makes me restlessly hot.
“Lia Estel Amarie,” Tristan says, using my full name, his hand flat between my shoulder blades, his lap pressed to my bottom. “You tell me right now that someone stole these pictures. That you didn’t voluntarily put them up on this horrific website.”
“hed “Lia, you didn't. Tell me you didn’t.”
“I did,” I whisper, my breath fogging up the computer screen. “How...who sent you this? How did you find out?”
Tristan lets out a hiss of breath over my confession, his big hand twisting in the back of my tank top. “A friend sent it to me, urging me to try the service. A service where men my age find young girls to fuck between business meetings. It's inexcusable. It’s wrong." I don’t like making Tristan this upset. He doesn’t take care of himself and I get very worried about his stress level. Sometimes it even keeps me awake at night, tossing and turning anxiously, wishing he would just let me care for him. But I have to see this through. This is make or break. I can't go on waiting for him to see me as more than a little girl. I have to force him to notice. I have to tempt him until he gives in. The alternative is loving him from afar for the rest of my life and I truly think that will kill me. So it’s full speed ahead.
Trust the plan.
“I wonder if your friend is one of the men who messaged me,” I drawl. “Asking to meet.”
Tristan stiffens, the tempo of his breath changing. Growing harsher. The fire crackles on the opposite end of the office. And then he does something I’m not expecting, but excites me beyond my wildest dreams. He flips up my skirt and spanks me. Hard.
“Cock teasing little brat,” he grunts, slapping his palm against my other cheek, ripping a gasp from my mouth, my fingers turning to claws on the desk. “You will take yourself off this fucking site. Immediately. You'll delete every message you received. And I'm going to watch you do it. You're going to sit that hot little ass right in Big Daddy's lap and take it all the hell down.”
I want to tell him yes. Yes, I'll do it.
Especially because he called himself Big Daddy. Treating me like his wayward little girl, just like I’ve dreamed about for so long. I want to scream my agreement and make him happy and be a good girl. But I can’t do that yet.
Not yet. Not until he claims me himself.
“No,” I whimper. “You can’t make me.”
“Oh yes I can.” I’m turned over and crowded up onto the desk. He looms so close, I have no choice but to open my thighs for him, my femininity clenching when he steps between them, pressing his hard shaft flush to my cleft. “You don't need the money, Lia. Why?”
“I do need it.” I wet my lips, hating that I have to lie. “M-my father keeps me on too short a leash. I want more spending money. Not that I owe you an explanation.”
“Don’t you, baby?” He ducks his head, breathing hard against the side of my neck. “Don’t you owe me an explanation, after treating me to little peeks of tits and ass for months? After you flashed me that airtight pussy on my kitchen counter?”
My thighs flex involuntarily around his bulky hips, my nipples throbbing now.
Painfully. “You have a filthy mouth, Mr. Hemsworth. I had no idea.”
“Take down the profile,” he says with forced calm, his lips traveling up the side of my neck to bury in my hair, his hands inching higher and higher up the outside of my thighs. “You want spending money? I'll get you a credit card.
Cash. Whatever you want. But you don’t respond to any of those men. You take your beautiful image off the site.”
Almost there.
I can't believe it, but we're almost there. He’s touching me, offering me money.
It's happening.
Once we have an agreement, we'll have time. Time alone. To finally get to know each other as adults. I'll finally be able to show him how good we can be together.
I run my hand down the length of his tie, tugging gently. “Are you offering to be my sugar daddy, Mr. Hemsworth?”
“What?” he barks, his head coming up. Eyes flashing. “Absolutely not. I’ll give you the money without strings. I’m not making a teenager fuck me for cash.”
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