Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 103000 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103000 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
My hand is shaking when I reach the door and clutch the handle. I count down from five and paste a smile on my face, swinging the door open and stepping inside.
I’m expecting posh, but whoa, User 762’s house is like something from an interior design magazine, light and minimalistic. There’s a huge gloss white kitchen at the end of the hallway. It has a huge kitchen island with a breakfast bar, and all the appliances are jet black. Daddy is definitely loaded, and he definitely has style.
I drop my backpack on the floor by the front door, and kick my shoes off on autopilot, then hang my coat up on the coat rack as my senses reel.
I jump as a voice sounds out from above, at the top of the stairs.
“Hey, sweetheart. How was your day?”
Somehow I manage to keep my voice steady as I answer him.
“Hi, Dad. It was good thanks.” I revert to my practiced lines. “Mrs Evans was a bitch today, but that’s normal.”
I’m open mouthed when the User 762 appears on the landing. Daddy is fucking gorgeous, and I mean gorgeous. He makes his way down the stairs, eyes on me, a pleasant smile on his face. He may be in his early fifties, but it couldn’t suit him any better. He’s got salt and pepper hair, with a decent amount of mahogany brown shining through. His beard is trimmed, and his eyes are bright green, and he’s tall, and muscular, wearing a tailored suit like it’s the most regular thing in the world.
He comes to a stop at the bottom of the stairs and looks me up and down with a grin, and he’s a great actor, but still, I see a flash of pure lust in his eyes. He swallows, and his gaze holds too long, meeting mine like he wants to devour me right here and now.
I’m in a crazy surreal dimension. A weirdo like me, being wanted so much by a guy like him.
Daddy smells incredible as he approaches and leans in for a kiss. I figure it’ll be on the lips, but no, it’s on the cheek, but he lingers… just a little. I feel his breath on my ear, and smell the cologne on his neck, deep and musky.
“What do you want to drink?” he asks me. “Cordial or juice?”
I follow him through to the kitchen like a lamb on unsteady legs.
“Juice, please.” I almost forget I’m in role. “Dad,” I add, but it’s too late, and he flashes me a look, acknowledging my error.
He has fire in him. I can sense it.
“Sit,” he says and I hitch my ass onto a stool at the island.
He pours me a juice from the fridge and sets it down in front of me.
“Thanks, Daddy,” I say and he watches me as I take a sip. I feel so on display.
“Holly,” he says. “We need to talk.”
“Talk, Daddy? What do you mean?”
He places his hands on the kitchen island, towering tall. “I was in your room earlier, collecting your laundry, and I saw your gym bag. It was open.”
I play along with raised eyebrows.
“It was open?”
“Yes. It was open. And you know what was in there, don’t you?”
This must be the incident the proposal was talking about. I look down at my juice like I’ve had a secret uncovered, turning the glass on the counter.
He sighs at me. “Holly, look. I love you, you know that. I’ve supported you through everything, and always will, you know that, too. But, sweetheart. You’ve been a bad, bad girl.” He pauses. “I saw your notebook.”
I force myself to meet his eyes, and when I do, I’m transfixed. He’s so in role, it’s incredible, and it touches something in me. My heart is pounding to a different kind of tune, and I sink deeper into fake Holly’s skin – the naughty daughter. It creeps up from my toes in a prickle of shivers. Looking at Daddy makes it so easy…
“You saw my notebook?”
He’s well prepared, taking a book from the counter behind him and slamming it down in front of me, open on the first page. He flicks through the contents as I watch – dirty drawings, and poems of filth. Doodles of smutty content, and one name amongst it all…
Scott.
I take the notebook from him, fascinated.
“I thought you were over this?” Daddy says. “I thought we’d worked this through.”
I let my instincts take over. My words come naturally.
“We had, Daddy, I just…”
“Just what, Holly?”
“I just… couldn’t help myself.”
He puts his hands on his hips. “Have you been touching yourself again?”
My cheeks are genuinely burning up. I nod, but that’s not enough.
“Tell me, Holly,” he says. “Have you been touching yourself?”
I take a breath. “Yes, Daddy. I have.”
“And thinking about Scott while you’re doing it?”
I look at my daddy and nod.