Her Hollywood Daddy (14 page)

Another twitch from his cock. Her ass begged to be reddened.

“Come over here,” he commanded.

She turned and walked over, biting her lip in a decidedly seductive manner. She stopped before him, bowing her head.

He reached for her breasts, squeezing them both roughly, then pulling each nipple toward him.

She gasped and stood on her tiptoes, leaning into him.

“Go to the bedroom. In the top drawer of my dresser, you’ll find a buttplug and lube. You will also find nipple clamps and the chain that runs between them. Bring them to me.”

“Yes, sir,” she murmured, an excited tension radiated from her.

He smacked her ass as she departed to hurry her along. Settling on the couch, he crossed one ankle over his knee to wait.

She returned, her hands full with the requested items. She stood over him and started to dump everything on his lap, then seemed to think better of it, tipping her hands back to catch everything to her chest. She lowered to her knees at his feet and dropped her chin, placing her hands and the items she’d brought in her lap.

He stroked her hair, then her cheekbone. “Good girl,” he said. He uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, picking up one of the nipple clamps. When he opened the alligator mouth, she flinched and watched with wary eyes as he brought it to her nipple. Even though she looked fearful, the smell of her arousal hit him like the aroma of the finest wine.

“Open your knees for Daddy,” he said, reaching with his left hand to slip his fingers between her thighs. She slid them apart by an inch. “A little wider.”

She parted her legs further.

He brushed a fingertip over her pudenda with a feather touch.

She shivered, her breath growing ragged. Her big eyes lifted and pleaded with him.

“You want more, little girl?”

“Yes, please...Daddy.”

He tapped the folds covering her clit. “You want me to touch you here?”

“Um...yes. Yes, Daddy.”

He circled the outside of her lips, still stroking with the lightest touch.

She rolled her pelvis forward to encourage more contact.

He slid his finger over her pleats with more pressure, finding her swollen and wet. “Baby wants me,” he observed. He pushed two fingers inside her at the same moment he affixed the clamp to her right breast.

She shrieked and lifted her pelvis up from her heels, standing on her knees.

He withdrew his finger, making a tsking sound. “Sit on your bottom, little girl.”

She whimpered, but sat back down, gazing up at him with need.

He returned the pads of his fingers to exploring her folds, watching Marissa’s eyelids drop as she made a slight humming noise of appreciation. He circled her clit, rubbed and pinched it, bringing her back to standing on her knees, whimpering for more. He clamped the second alligator clip over her left nipple and tugged the chain to make her gasp.

“Lie over my lap.”

She dived over his lap, her thighs open, as if begging for his continued touch.

He began to spank her—hard. Not for any reason. He wasn’t upset that she’d been snappish, nor did he think she deserved punishment. He just wanted the pleasure of making her squirm and wriggle in pain.

“Daddy,” she gasped, the muscles in her back taut as she arched her torso.

“Yes, my dear?” he asked casually, all the while continuing to spank at a rapid pace.

“Are you mad at me? I’m sorry!”

“Daddy isn’t angry,” he said. “This is a good girl spanking. It reminds you to be good for your daddy, so you remember he’s in charge.”

“Ohh.” Her response came out more as a moan than a word. Her juices leaked onto her inner thighs, confirming she found that idea as appealing as he did.

She lay still for the next ten spanks or so, then began to wiggle, her bottom squeezing.

“Relax your muscles,” he said, slapping the back of her thigh.

“Ow,” she cried, but released her clenched cheeks.

He continued to spank until her skin had turned a lush shade of pink and she had begun to bounce around and cry out, her muscles tightening again. He picked up the lube from the floor and spread a dollop over the butt plug.

“This will keep you from clenching,” he said, pushing the bulbous tip against her little rosette.

She squealed and tightened even more.

He slapped the backs of her thighs several times, hard.

“Oweeee.”

“Do I need to get the crop to remind you to be a good girl?”

“No, Daddy,” she wailed, but her bottom was still on complete clamp-down.

“Open for Daddy. One...two…”

“Ahhh,” she moaned, but softened her muscles.

“That’s better,” he said. “Take a deep breath.”

She opened, her low back expanding with air.

“Exhale.”

As she blew out her breath, he pushed the plug forward.

She gave a squeak of protest and he stopped pushing forward, but held the ground he’d gained.

“Open.”

Three seconds passed and she unclenched.

“When Daddy decides you need a plug in your ass, you take it. Understand?”

She opened a little.

“That’s better. I can see you’re trying. Just a little more, sweet girl.”

“I can’t,” she wailed.

“Yes, you can. You took Daddy’s cock, you can take his plug. Now open up or Daddy will put the plug in you and then cane you seven times for being difficult.”

She made a mewling sound, but her bottom opened and the plug slid in, stretching her over its widest diameter before it seated, deep within her.

“Oh Daddy,” she moaned.

He lifted her off his lap and pulled her to sit, facing away from him with her knees hooked over his, her thighs held apart. He wrapped an arm around her waist and brought his palm back smartly over her mound.

She gasped in surprise.

“Daddy’s going to spank your pussy now, little girl,” he said, nipping her ear.

She let out a quavering moan.

He slapped her pussy, the moisture gathered there making a loud smack. “Marissa, you’re soaking wet,” he chided.

“I knoooow,” she wailed. “Daddy—?”

He slapped her again and again. “Yes, baby?”

“Oh, God,
please
.”

“What do you need, baby?”

“I want you to take me. Please, Daddy?”

“Get on your knees and forearms,” he said, his voice roughened with lust. He lifted her off his lap and pushed her down at his feet, fumbling for a condom from his wallet. Her ass had never looked so delectable— her cheeks colored by his hand, the plug stuffed in her rear entrance. He pulled her hips and impaled her on his ready cock.

“Oh, yeah, Daddy,” she crooned.

He held his position and pulled her hips to move her tight channel over his cock. She gave herself to him, following his lead.

All the unspent desire pent up from their morning on-screen romp had him rock hard as he yanked her into him, burying his cock in her delicious heat. “You feel so good,” he said. “So...damn...good.”

“Oh please, Daddy,” she cried, her voice rising to a desperate pitch.

He pulled harder, faster. Then, wanting more leverage, he clipped, “On your stomach,” and wrapped an arm around her waist, following her down with his dick still deep inside her. The second she hit the floor, he pounded into her, thrusting hard and deep, hitting her front wall with each stroke.

She let out a single, sustained note—a high-pitched keen that didn’t stop as he plowed in and out of her with a violent need. Cum surged down his shaft.

“Oh hell
yeah
,” he shouted, slamming into her and staying buried as he shot his load.

“Oh, Daddy, oh Daddy, oh Daddy,” Marissa wailed, her hips bucking under him, her muscles squeezing his cock like a fist. He seemed to come forever, the intense pleasure of her contracting muscles milking every last bit of seed from him.

They panted, his body covering hers, her back heaving against his chest. She clenched her muscles on purpose this time, sending one more shudder of release through him.

“Oh God, little girl. You keep that up and I’ll never let you up.”

She turned her head to the side, resting it on her hands. “You like that?” she asked, doing it again.

He groaned. “I like it. I like it so much I might institute mandatory kegel exercises for you so you keep in shape for me.”

She giggled. “Okay.”

He brushed her hair off her neck and nibbled on it. “Okay? You’ll do it to please your daddy?”

“Anything for Daddy.”

He rolled to his side and wrapped his arms around her. Damn. She was perfect. He sure wished he knew if it was all an act.

Marissa wrapped a towel around her waist and padded, barefooted out to the kitchen, combing her wet hair. She was sore, in the most delicious way, from the rough sex the night before. Joel had gone to Crossfit. Antonio had texted that he didn’t need them until the next day, so she’d been indulging in a lazy morning, sleeping in and then taking a thirty minute shower.

The sound of the door from the garage reached her and she smiled, wondering if she should drop her towel entirely and let Joel find her naked. She should have realized the footsteps were too fast, too light, but she was wrapped up in her fantasy of being taken by her hot, dominant daddy again. She pulled off her towel and tossed it over the back of a chair, then pulled the espresso machine forward, as if she always made coffee in the nude.

“Oh,” a female voice exclaimed.

She jumped and shrieked, diving for the towel.

“Oh,” the woman repeated inanely. “I didn’t realize Joel had...a guest.” She said the word
guest
like it was the equivalent of lice or rats. Despite discovering Joel, indeed had a guest, she came in, dropping her purse on the counter like she belonged there.

Fuck. She must be his ex-wife. “Um...what are you doing here?”

She walked straight into the kitchen and opened the cabinet, pulling out a ceramic airtight container, which she popped open. From a lower cabinet she pulled out a coffee grinder.

So that’s where he kept them.

“I had some time to kill on this side of town, so I thought I’d stop in and have a snack. I get cranky when I get low blood sugar,” she said as if that explained everything. “I saw the Porsche, but I thought maybe Joel had turned in the Tesla or something. He changes cars every six months, you know.”

Actually, she didn’t know, and for some reason that really pissed her off.

“I’m Marissa,” she said, then kicked herself. What the hell was wrong with her? This woman barged in on her, not the other way around.

“Right,” she said. “Marissa Sparks, of course. I know Joel really wanted you for
Canyon del Oro
.” She poured some beans into the coffee grinder and started it up, turning to give her an up and down look while it ran. When it stopped, she said, “I’m glad it worked out.”

Sweat trickled down Marissa’s ribs and her heart ricocheted around like a pinball in a machine. Why did it bother her so much to know Joel had talked about her with his ex-wife? It felt like a complete violation. Like he’d cheated on her or something, but that was stupid. That was before she even knew him. Except here she was, in his kitchen, making her own coffee while Marissa stood around naked under her towel. For some reason, she didn’t want to leave her in the kitchen to go get dressed. Like she needed to hold her ground.

She tightened the towel. “What’s your name?”

“Oh. Sorry, I’m Allie,” she said, holding out her hand.

Marissa took it reluctantly, and of course, her towel loosened and slipped, so she had to yank her hand back to catch it before she wound up naked again.

“I’m Joel’s wife. I mean, ex-wife. I’m still not used to saying it,” she said with a rueful laugh. “It hasn’t been that long, you know.”

Heat crept up her neck to her ears. No, she didn’t know, really. She didn’t know anything, did she? The snarkiest part of her wanted to say something like, “How’s your yoga instructor?” But she kept her inner bitch inside. Making waves wasn’t her style.

Allie scooped the freshly ground coffee into the espresso machine and poured a cup of water in, then walked to the fridge and pulled out the milk and a carton of blueberries. She opened the blueberries and scooped a handful, popping them into her mouth. No spoon, no bowl. Her germs all over their blueberries.

The espresso machine began to hiss and Allie filled the frothing cup and started steaming her milk.

Okay, this was just getting ridiculous. Apparently her cup of coffee would have to wait until Allie had taken care of her hypoglycemic needs.

“I’m going to get dressed,” she muttered, stalking to the bedroom. With any luck, the ex would be gone by the time she returned. Except she couldn’t stay away. She threw on some clothes and came back out, drawn like a magnet to metal.

Allie was sorting through a stack of mail.

Seeing the physical evidence of her marriage to Joel—even if it was just mail being sent to his address—stabbed Marissa in the heart.

“So how’s the filming coming? I heard things had been slow since you’ve been back from New Mexico.”

Her breath stopped and a knot formed in her belly. What the hell had he told her? Something about her? About how she’d fucked up? She managed a one-shoulder shrug as an answer.

“When is the release date, do you know?”

“June fourth.”

“Oh, right. I knew that. Well, I’ll have to come to the opening. I already bought my dress for the big opening of Joel’s movie
Cerebral
next week.”

She felt like she’d been punched in the gut. He was taking his ex-wife as his date to the opening of one of his movies? What the hell?

She’d been foolish to even pretend she had a relationship with him. She hardly knew the guy. He had an ex-wife, with years and years of history, a woman he was obviously on friendly enough terms with to let her keep a key to his house and drop in unannounced at any time of day.

Why the hell would she imagine, even for a second, she had any place in his life? They had an arrangement until the filming was over. Nothing more. And the sooner she got that through her pining heart, the better.

*****

Joel carried all the grocery bags into the house in one trip. He’d stopped to buy steak and staple items, planning to make a nice dinner for Marissa that night. He wanted to reward her for her submission the night before.

Just thinking about the way she’d looked on her knees at his feet had him hard again. He opened the door from the garage and headed in.

Marissa sat at the kitchen table, the earbuds to her mp3 player in her ears. She was bent over the script, which was odd, since she knew it inside and out by now.

“Hey sweetheart,” he called out.

She looked up, her face devoid of any expression.

A spike of concern shot through him. Something was off.

He set the grocery bags down and walked over to drop a kiss on the top of her head. “What’s up? How was your morning?”

She pulled the earbuds out of her ears and stood up, nodding. “Yeah. Good. I’m going to go for a walk on the beach now. I’ll see you in a little bit, okay?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hang on just a minute.” He bit off the “little girl” he almost tacked onto the end. Some instinct told him this wasn’t the moment to bring out the dominance. Still, he couldn’t help his take charge personality. “I’ll go with you,” he said. “I just need to put the groceries away.”

“No, that’s okay. I kinda feel like being alone.” She pushed past him.

“Marissa—” He caught her around the waist but she pried his hand away and stepped back.

“I just need some space right now, okay?”

A blast of cold went through his limbs. “Yeah, okay. We’ll talk when you get back,” he said.

She left without answering.

He stood frozen for a moment, digesting the scene. What had happened to make Marissa shut down? Something with her mom or sister? Maybe they had shamed her for the deal she’d made with him. He grimaced, hating that he might have made a whore out of her in some people’s eyes. He rubbed his chest, which suddenly ached, and not from his workout. Whatever had happened, he wanted to fix it. But he had no clues to help him decode Marissa when she had her walls up.

He put the groceries away, all the joy he’d imagined in cooking for her gone. He paced through the house, looking for clues. He even crossed the line and violated Marissa’s privacy by checking her cell phone, but she hadn’t received or made any calls or texts that day.

He settled in the living room, opening the drapes to look out at the ocean. How long would she be gone? What if she didn’t come back? His heart constricted. No, she had to come back, she’d left her purse here. But what if she packed her things and walked out?

He stood up and began to pace again. An hour and a half passed before he saw Marissa walking up the beach toward the house. Relief rushed through him. He started to head out to meet her, but held himself back. She’d asked for space, he needed to give it to her. His domineering personality would only smother her if she was feeling skittish about their arrangement.

His cell phone rang and he pulled it out of his pocket. Damn. His ex-wife.

He answered it, his eyes following Marissa’s path to the back door. “Hey, Allie. What’s up?”

“So, Marissa Sparks, huh?”

He sighed and rubbed his forehead. He had no idea how she’d heard when it hadn’t even hit the tabloids yet, but it wasn’t really her business.

“Was she mad about me stopping by?”

He went still. Downstairs, he heard the back door open and close. “Yeah,” he said. “You could say that.”

“Sorry. I didn’t know she’d be running around naked. I didn’t mean to startle her.”

Marissa’s head appeared as she came up the steps, and she looked in his direction, but didn’t quite make eye contact. She walked past without saying anything.

Irritation with Allie flared. “Look,” he said, “you can’t just stop by here. This isn’t your house anymore.”

Marissa’s steps faltered and she stopped, looking over her shoulder uncertainly.

He gave her a grim look.

“Well, I was just picking up my mail. And I had an appointment on your side of town, so I stopped in to make myself some coffee and have a bite to eat before I went.”

“Next time stop at Starbucks, instead. I’ve moved on, Allie. And you should, too. Popping in at my house uninvited and unannounced is bad form.”

Allie was silent and he cursed inwardly. Despite the fact that she’d cheated on him, he still cared about her. He didn’t love her, he didn’t want to be with her, but he also didn’t want to hurt her feelings. He ran a hand through his hair. He sighed. “It’s time, Allie. I need you to respect my boundaries. We’re not married.”

“But we’re friends.”

“Yeah, but friends don’t get in the way of each other’s love lives.”

Marissa drifted back toward the door to the kitchen, standing just outside it, looking in.

He met her eye. “Listen, I gotta go. No more unexpected visits.”

Allie spluttered. “I can’t believe this—”

“I mean it,” he said, his voice firming into a dominant tone.

“Fine,” she snapped and ended the call.

He tossed the phone on the counter. “Come over here, right now,” he said pointing to the floor in front of his feet.

Her eyes widened in surprise at his stern tone and she complied, scurrying over.

“Don’t you ever walk away again without telling me why you’re mad at me,” he said.

*****

She opened and closed her mouth, stunned at the reprimand. His mouth was set in a firm line, his jaw muscles visibly tightening. The authority he projected made her knees wobble and all her own anger evaporate. She didn’t like being the subject of his anger.

He picked up her wrist and spun her around pinning it behind her back. Pushing her torso down on the counter, he said, “Pull them down.”

She didn’t ask for clarification; she had no doubt what he meant, even if she didn’t understand why she was being punished. Her fingers fumbled at the button and zipper and she slid her shorts and panties down to her thighs.

His belt buckle jingled behind her, followed by the whoosh of the leather sliding through the loops. She shivered.

He didn’t say a word, he just began whipping her with the leather.

She flinched, lurching against the counter to get away, her legs trembling.

He laid down line after line, traveling down her bottom and back up again, the slap of leather against skin making a loud whap. She cried out with each stroke, her bottom clenching and her hips dodging from side to side.

“Marissa, my job is to take care of you. And I can’t do that if you put up walls and keep me out. If you’re upset or mad or scared, I need to know about it so I can fix it.” His calm rational words didn’t mesh with the excruciating whipping he was laying down.

Despite the pain, heat had flooded her core, spreading the petals of her sex, her body ready to be taken by him. Even the pain began to feel good, as if he somehow was converting her emotional angst into the thin stripes on her ass, freeing her with each wicked stroke.

At last he stopped, and she panted, her knees buckling.

To her disappointment, he pulled up her panties, then her shorts, reaching around the front to zip and button them. Like a daddy would. He turned her around, picked her up, and set her on counter. His expression was no longer hard, the lines had softened and his gaze looked tender, and concerned.

Cupping her face, he leaned his forehead against hers. “I’m sorry.”