Dear Diary (Love, Daddy 7)

He shifted, pulling me down in front of him so we were sort of spooning on the sofa, his head behind mine on the pillow so I could feel his warm breath. I was frozen. Where our bodies connected, heat kept multiplying. As always, I could never really see his face, but his body was enormous. As well as his…you know.

Then, his hand moved to my hip. And slowly, fingertips were pushing up the hem of my nightgown.

“You feel so good. So warm.”

I didn’t know what to say, then his fingers were on top of my panties. Tickling, brushing, circling.

“Does that feel good, baby girl?”

I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t speak.

“Daddy wants to touch you. It would make me happy. You want me to be happy, don’t you?”

Gah, Diary, it went on and on. He was touching me, saying the most delicious things. Then his cock was there, pressing into me as he lifted my leg.

“Daddy’s just going to put the tip inside you, princess. Just to see how it feels…be a good girl...”

You know how it ends, Diary. How it always ends. He did put just the tip inside me, all the way to my cervix, that is. I woke up mid-orgasm, the faceless man in my dreams once again making me feel like there’s something wrong with me. I definitely have daddy issues.

Well, the fighting downstairs has stopped and tomorrow is my first day at the internship. I brought some baking stuff with me, so it will be double-chocolate devil’s food cake with cream cheese frosting today. Then maybe a little nap and Daddy will come visit in my dreams again. I really am such a bad girl Diary. I need to find God.

xoxo

“Who were the women you were with at the bar?” I blurt out in the moment of silence left after I told Jack I baked for fun.

Immediately, my face heats. I have no right to ask him about who he chooses for female companionship, but that doesn’t seem to matter to me right now. I feel like a child, no filter or hesitation, just an intense need for an immediate answer to my question.

“I mean… Wife? Girlfriend? Friend with benefits? Business partners?”

He stays silent for a long moment, making my palms sweat as the limo’s speed increases, merging onto the freeway toward my place, reminding me we are leaving the sparkling energy of his world and moving into another. Not so sparkling.

“None of the above,” he answers with a stare, narrowing his eyes, his tongue darting out to touch the corner of his lips before disappearing again. “In fact, it’s been years since I even had a date. Unless you count when I took my housekeeper to the Deadpool 2 premiere because she found out I was invited and threatened my life if I didn’t. But, seriously, I want you to know that. The part about me not dating, not my housekeeper. Do you believe me?”

I take a few seconds, pondering my answer, but I know what I feel, so I do my best to not overthink it.

“Yes. I believe you.”

“Good girl.” He says those words again, making my ears ring and my nipples tingle.

Magic words. Words that make me feel everything is going to be okay.

I flinch at the memory of watching my mother, hooked up to the machines that even the doctors knew wouldn’t save her life, at best only extend it.

I remember the social worker, asking me if I had any family, me shaking my head, holding my diary close, my only constant companion. Of finally learning who my father was when the courts placed me with him, a man who had never wanted anything to do with me, but who felt like it was his duty to take me on.

He had options. He could sign away his parental rights and I would be placed into the foster care system. Or, he could take me in. He chose the latter, although at times living with him and his new family feels more like a foster home than it probably should.

Heat rises to my face remembering that first day as I followed him up to the doors of his beautiful house, feeling like an intruder.

He cared for me in his way, helped me finish school and hired private tutors to bring my grades back from the brink after they slipped with all that had happened. He’s more comfortable giving me money than time. Or love.

But no matter who he is, he can’t protect me from the world. The world takes everything and doesn’t wait for you to catch up. It could take my father, it could take my internship, it could take my home. Nothing is promised.

Now, here I am, and Jack only has to look me in the eye and use those words, good girl, and I’m ready to give him everything.