4 - Thirsty
CHELSEA
I rolled my eyes so hard that I was surprised I didn’t lose them in the back of my skull. I got further irritated by the sound of his chuckle, his deep voice making my hands clammy, especially when he looked at me from the corner of his eyes, mirth gleaming in them.
“Weirdo,” I murmured underneath my breath and crossed my arms, looking out of the window to hide the blush rising in my cheeks.
I couldn’t remember the last time a guy made me blush. Maybe in fourth grade when my classmate shared his favorite pen with me and told me to keep it since it had glitter in it.
This strange, handsome man definitely surpassed my fourth-grade crush .
“I am curious,” he started when we reached a fancy tall building with closed gates. I watched him type something on his phone as the gates opened, and he smoothly drove down the basement to the parking lot. “Why are you working at the Heaven club?”
I blinked at him when he parked the car in the almost-empty parking lot. The only other car I could see was a shiny red Porsche.
Jesus, how rich does one have to be to stay here?
He opened the passenger door for me when I was still thinking about how to answer his question. Because I have to pay rent and my student debt?
I was fortunate enough to know that if I asked my mom, she’d cover it all in the blink of an eye. But I didn’t want to burden her—or endure one of her long lectures about how hard she’d have to work to pay my rent. I loved her, but ever since the divorce, she’d been particularly touchy about money. The thought of asking my dad for help made me shudder.
I stuck with a white lie. “My rent is due soon and… strip club seemed interesting.”
He took the lead, opening glass doors with a passcode on his phone and pressing a button for the elevator. He slid his hand in his pocket and faced me. Again, I felt small compared to him. The sheer size of him made me nervous and for a split second, I wondered if I slammed my fists hard enough on the glass doors, I could run away.
“Do you want to be a stripper?” He asked, tilting his head at me, his gaze running over my figure hidden by baggy clothes.
My stomach did the weird flip thing whenever he looked at me. His voice wasn’t filled with disgust or lust. He was genuinely curious.
“No.” I shrugged, playing with the charm dangling from my phone. “Not really. I thought being a server at a strip club would help with… stuff.”
“ Stuff ,” he repeated, enunciating the word.
I cleared my throat and looked away as we rode the elevator in silence. Thankfully, he didn’t question me further as we reached the top floor.
I tried my best not to balk at the marble floored hallway with a freaking chandelier and fancy jazz music playing in the background with surveillance camera.
What the fuck? The hallway alone was bigger than my room!
“Come in.”
I turned around to see him leaning on the door with an arm, gesturing me to step inside. He looked like a hot vampire inviting me to his deadly abode. I clutched the straps of my handbag tighter and made my way in.
The scent of luxury lingered in the air—a subtle mix of freshly polished wood, clean linen, and the faint musk of designer candles, exuding notes of amber and bergamot. When he leaned closer to offer me house slippers, I was hit with a fresh scent of rain and musk.
I removed my sneakers and wore the soft, fuzzy slippers. They were like the ones you get at a luxurious hotel or spa, but these were much softer, as if my feet were getting cradled in clouds.
“Would you like to drink something?” He offered from the kitchen while I gaped around his apartment that looked like it belonged to a very rich and handsome CEO in a famous K-Drama.
“Just water, please,” I said, looking around. The penthouse exuded opulence with floor-to-ceiling windows and a unique panoramic view of the glittering city skyline.
I was in awe that it had a second floor. An oversized crystal chandelier hung from the high ceiling, refracting light into delicate rainbows. The open-concept living area flowed seamlessly and even if my major was in business, I could appreciate the art pieces hung on the walls, lending a touch of sophistication.
The polished marble underfoot looked cool. I wanted to melt into the couch that looked more comfortable than my bed with buttery-soft velvet covering it. The air conditioning hummed quietly, keeping the space at a perfectly crisp temperature, while a light breeze from the balcony carried a sense of weightlessness.
I was scared to go to the balcony. What if I got used to the calmness of the night? What if I got used to him?
“Chelsea.”
I jumped hearing the smoky voice much closer than below and found him standing behind me with a glass of water. He pushed it in my hand and I took pleasure in the subtle stretch of his shirt. He had removed his suit, keeping the vest and shirt underneath it.
Damn. Rolled sleeves and veins?—
“You seem thirsty,” he said when I downed the glass in one go.
Yes, I am thirsty for your dick .
I finally—with much effort—pulled my eyes away from his forearms and biceps to his face and nodded, wiping my lips. “Yes, I was. Thank you… Daddy?”
I tried not to cringe, saying the word out loud as he took the glass from me, our fingers brushing, making me feel warm. I wouldn’t say it was cringe to call him that, but it was definitely weird, even though it felt right with our twenty-year of age gap. He was definitely more caring than my dad.
Sean chuckled at my face and ruffled my hair.
“I was messing with you, Princess,” he said and kept the glass down on his massive coffee table. He closed the distance between us and leaned down to my eye level, making my heart skip a beat. “Sean. My name is Sean Tae.”
“ Sean Tae ,” I repeated, rolling out his full name. His eyes were pinned on my lips as they moved to whisper his name.
“Good girl,” he said and straightened up when the praise made me feel woozy. No one has ever praised me before, not even my cheerleading coach, even when I followed his instructions to the T. “But I wouldn’t mind if you addressed me as Daddy instead.”
Sean smirked before turning around. My eyes dropped at his butt and I didn’t know if I was jealous of his ass in tight pants or if I wanted to touch?—
“Come here, drool bug,” he called out, snapping me out of my reverie.
“I’m not drooling,” I argued, wiping my mouth. I sat down on the kitchen stool and eyed the glossy black countertops and appliances.
He slid a pen and a paper to me and leaned against the island, standing across from me. He looked sexy. His lean and muscular frame made me clench my thighs together. He knew how hot he was by the way he confidently moved and smirked?—
“Could have fooled me by the way you were staring at my ass as if you wanted to bite it,” he crooned, amusement lacing his voice.
“I… I wasn’t.” I scoffed, fanning my face. “Why would I ever stare at your ass?”
He laughed, making me glare at him. “You look adorable when you’re lying.” His face changed when he leaned closer and traced his fingers over my cheek and said, “But remember that I don’t like liars, Princess. Cute little liars like you get punished by their filthy daddies.”
I swallowed, my throat dry and pussy wet. Why am I turned on? I should have slapped him or snapped back for talking to me like that, and yet… I liked it. Enjoyed it even.
I wished he would skip all the dirty talk and foreplay and just bend me over the marble island?—
“Write your bank information,” he said, pulling away and stopping my dirty fantasy mid-thought. “I will pay you for your service tonight.”
My eyes widened and heart beat doubled. “My s-service?”
Do I have to give him a hand job? Blow job?
“You still don’t trust me, Princess?” He raised his brow and his face changed and I realized he wasn’t being open and laughing anymore. “We’re not having sex. I promised you.”
Instead of pouting or frowning at his answer, I slid my eyes down at his crotch. Before meeting his eyes, I asked, “What about a blowjob?”
“ My, my …” he cocked his head. “Do you want to suck my cock on your knees while I praise you for being a good girl and use your pretty little mouth for my pleasure, hm ?”
I didn’t have a reply for him because if I had opened my mouth, it would have been for him to use my mouth for his pleasure with me on my knees in his fancy modern kitchen, even if it meant my knees would be bruised.
I was sure I would enjoy it.