My First Daddy (Dark Daddies 7)

3AveryThat night after work, all I can think about is Julian.

I didn’t see him too much after his initial tour, but that moment is stuck in my mind. The way he stood so close, spoke so low, his hand on the small of my back…

And the things he said. Oh my god, I know it was totally inappropriate but for some reason, coming from him, I loved it.

I keep picturing myself stripping down at his command. This man is my dead dad’s old friend, I shouldn’t be thinking about this at all. And yet I can’t stop myself.

That night, I dream about Julian. I dream he brings me back into his office and spanks me, nice and rough, and ends up slowly sliding my pants down my body before…

I wake up, dripping wet, breathing deep and fast.

Of course, I can’t even seal the deal in my dreams. Even if I really, really want to.

Shit. This is going to be a problem.

I’m working with him, though. There’s nothing I can do about it but just try to keep things professional. At least, as professional as he wants them to be.

I shower, dress, and head into the office. Julian’s already there as I put my bag down and sit at my computer. He smiles at me through the glass and waves for me to come into his office.

“I have some tasks for you today,” Julian says to me as I stand in front of his desk.

“Okay,” I say. “What do you need?”

“I have a press release that needs to get mailed out. There are envelopes in the office and the release itself is being printed right now. I’ll email you the addresses.”

“Right,” I say, not sure why I feel disappointed.

He notices and raises an eyebrow. “What were you expecting?” he asks.

“I mean, I don’t know, nothing. That sounds good.”

“Stuffing envelopes isn’t fun, but it’s all I have for you right now.” He leans forward, a little smile on his lips. “Unless you’d rather try something a little more… personal?”

“I, uh… I don’t know.” I blink a little, heart racing. He’s flirting with me again, I’m definitely sure about that.

He laughs softly. “Never mind. No, you’re not ready. Go stuff those envelopes.”

I nod and hurry out of his office. I’m blushing like hell and I hope nobody else notices.

I grab the envelopes and the press release before heading back to my desk. I feel like he’s watching me as I pull up the emailed addresses and start to stuff envelopes, taking my time to write the addresses down as neatly as I possibly can.

That’s how I spend most of my morning. I look up from my desk once or twice and I catch him looking out at me. He doesn’t look away and doesn’t look ashamed that I’ve caught him staring at me, which just makes me blush again and go back to stuffing envelopes.

I don’t know what sort of game I’m playing with this man, but I can’t let that get to me. He’s just a friend of my dad’s, that’s all. He’s giving me a job because he feels bad for me, and fine, that’s whatever. I need the job so I’ll take what I can get.

But still, the way he talks to me, the way he looks at me…

It’s like he’s the kind of man that’s used to getting what he wants. It doesn’t matter what other people think, Julian gets whatever Julian wants. And for some reason, I find that insanely attractive.

My tongue is tired from licking envelopes by the time noon rolls around. Julian comes out of his office and walks over to my desk. He leans up against it and crosses his arms as I slide back in my chair to face him.

“How’s it going?” he asks.

“Not bad. Stuffing envelopes isn’t exactly fun, but I just finished.”

“Good,” he says. “Come with me. I want to show you something.”

He gets up without another word and I hurry to follow him. We stride through the office and down a back hall. He stops and turns to face the wall, gesturing at a large canvas hanging there.

It’s a strange painting, geometric lines and paint splatters. It looks like a Jackson Pollock mixed with some kind of electronic computer-generated shape. It’s honestly a little weird and I’m not sure I understand it.

“What do you think?” he asks.

“It’s… nice?”

He laughs and shakes his head. “Yeah, I know. It’s awful.”

“No, it’s not awful. I just don’t get it.”

“There’s nothing to get.” He sighs. “My designer said this was cool. It’s by some young artist in Brooklyn or some crap like that.”

“Was it expensive?” I regret the question as soon as it leaves my lips. “Sorry, that was rude.”

“It’s fine,” he says and sighs. “But yeah, it was expensive. My designer said it’ll be worth it, but honestly, I don’t know.”