Hannah
We’ve been driving a half-hour in the blazing midday sun and I’ve spent the whole time thinking how Dietrich would look with his clothes off.
Which is probably ironic, given that he phoned Greg minutes after he left yesterday and demanded my exact measurements. My naked measurements, to be specific.
I’ve never taken them before and Hawk wanted every. Single. One.
My skin was on fire as I twisted the measuring tape around my body, imagining it was Dietrich tying me up.
Or down.
He wanted my measurements so he could send me damn near a whole new wardrobe, including bras and panties that were surprisingly tame.
Hanes white cotton low rise briefs and several white cotton bras with one exception: a black lace panty, bra and garter set which I spent an hour trying to figure out how it all worked.
How women wore garters and hose every day is beyond me. Just getting them hooked onto those little sliding holder deals had me twisted in a pretzel and watching YouTube videos trying to figure out why it was so ridiculously hard to get the whole set up to work.
The packages arrived a couple hours after the ‘audition’ and Brigid and I spent the rest of the evening opening everything like it was the Christmas morning we’d never had.
Besides the clothes and shoes from Dior and Channel, Burberry and Jimmy Choo, there was French Perfume, custom made shampoos, conditioners, and soaps, along with this incredible over the top, full set of orange and brown Globetrotter luggage to carry it all in.
It’s enough clothes for a month fit for an actress that’s winning Oscars not taking some shady roleplay gig for a weekend.
He sent a phone as well, all set up with his number only programmed in.
It was a great surprise since Brigid and I have been sharing a shitty pay-as-you-go Motorola since Dad quit paying the cell phone bill six months ago.
There were also four bottles of some high-end vitamins with a note that said it was a requirement of the job that I take them with a full glass of water twice a day.
Daddy’s Orders.
I guess his “daughter” is a spoiled princess.
And I’m a little jealous.
Of myself, apparently.
“It pleases me you followed my instructions on your attire for today. You’d bring most men to their knees in that outfit.”
I glance at Dietrich and shiver as the limo hums along the freeway.
“Doesn’t seem to be working on you,” I answer, the tension palatable in the back of the limo as Dietrich takes in the white lace Prada wrap dress with a silk ribbon belt, complete with a bow above my ass all paired with a pair of scarlet patent leather Jimmy Choo pumps. “I feel a bit like a virgin sacrifice.”
“Well, that’s because I’m not most men, but you say ‘virgin sacrifice’ one more time and I’ll be putting you on your knees.”
I can’t tell if he’s playing with me or not. I’ve never wondered what men look like naked, but with this man? It’s hard to think of anything else.
I want to see the muscles in his back. The way his torso broadens when he takes a deep breath. How defined are his abs? He’s a big guy. Burly, I guess you’d say. Like a powerlifter that enjoys a good burger and a beer but dressed like a billionaire on the cover of a romance novel.
I think it’s sexy the way his belly pushes out just over his belt and his arms and legs strain against the slick fabric of his navy-blue suit. Imagine an intense and grumpy, fifty-year-old Henry Cavill with a dad bod.
Freakin’ hotter than Vegas in July.
The A/C blows against the sheen of sweat on my skin and I fight off a shiver.
“Too cold again?” Dietrich flashes those eyes my way, a symphony of every shade of blue in Monet’s palette with subtle, wise creases at the corners that make me swoon.
He taps the thermostat button that serves my side of the Mercedes’ back seat, raising it a few degrees and taking the chill out of the air.
Since we started driving, he’s adjusted the temperature for me seven times. He has a spooky sixth sense about my climate control needs and it’s sort of comforting but also a little creepy.
I can’t help thinking he’s got a read on my x-rated thoughts with that hint of a sexy smirk and the way the lines at the corners of his eyes deepen.
When we met, in those first seconds, I felt as though he was assessing me. Cataloging every detail.
Watching my breathing, the twitch of my fingers, the dilation of my irises and the temperature of my skin. The way my nipples sprung to life. I was sure he could sense the dampness in my panties.
Mind reading is impossible, of course. I mean, there are hit shows here in Vegas with those mentalist types and they are incredible but surely Dietrich doesn’t possess that level of skill when it comes to reading me.
And my smutty romance thoughts.
I wonder how thick his dick is? It looked quite respectable behind his slacks yesterday in the living room…
He coughs, covering a chuckle.
“What’s funny?” I snip, running my hands up and down the goosebumps on my bare arms.
“Funny?” He sniffs, covering his mouth with his sexy man hand.
“Yeah. You chuckled.”
“Nope. I don’t chuckle.”
“You smiled then.”
He shakes his head but I catch his lips in a distinct upturn and jab my index finger his way.
“Right there!” I sputter on my own laughter. “You smiled, right there.”
“No, I didn’t.” His face returns to a solemn mask.
“Well, you did.”
“Impossible. If I smiled, I’d know. Probably crack my cheekbones.”
“Impossible is right.” I snort. He’s stoic and stern but I sense a layer of softness under the overbaked crust. “As in, you’re impossible. Daddy.”
It’s as though all the air in the car disappears and I’m left gasping as Dietrich’s fingers tighten on the edge of the leather seat until his knuckles turn white.
You went too far, Hannah. The Daddy thing is just for the event, not for right now.
“I was just practicing,” I manage, unsure how far I’m supposed to take this roleplay and embarrassed that I may have tiptoed into the forbidden garden. “I’m sorry, I think I’m confused about how this all works.”
My cheeks flame as my insides churn.
“I should have been more clear. If you are confused, from now on, that is my fault, not yours.” Dietrich’s low and thick tone hints at some dark emotion I can’t pinpoint but the dampness between my legs intensifies.
“You are my daughter from this moment forward. You need to feel that in your heart and down into your bones to make it believable. As well, just like a good daughter, you will do as I say. Are we clear?”
With that eerie ability to read my emotions, Dietrich reaches over and clasps my hand, sending a wicked wash of heat through the center of my soul as I manage a nod.
“Daddy will be difficult sometimes, little one. But I will always have your best interests at heart.”
The conviction in his voice confuses me. Is he playing his part or is he a straight up psychopath?
“Yes, Daddy,” I mumble with a clawing lust tearing at my insides and pulsing in my most sensitive, sopping wet parts. This daddy-daughter roleplay is heady and intoxicating in ways I didn’t predict.
“Now,” he starts, squeezing my hand. “I think we need to have a talk and I want you to face me while we do.”
He unbuckles my seat belt, gripping my shoulders and giving me a half turn in the seat to face him.
“Is there something I should know about the job that wasn’t in the folder?” I swallow the golf ball sized lump in my throat as his blue eyes rove over me, his features flexing with a hint of the growl that seems perpetually rumbling in his thick chest.
He shakes his head as his jaw squares, and I’m wedged between my girlish fantasies and the reality that this man could be a serial killer and I’m serving myself up with a smile.
“No. Forget about this being a job. You are my daughter. I made that clear, didn’t I?”
I nod, tugging my knees tight. There’s something about him that convinces me he knows what’s best and maybe, just maybe, I should dive into this headfirst.
“Yes, you did. I’m sorry.”
“Good, now, I have put this off for too long. But, it’s time. There are things you need to know. Things a daddy needs to teach his little girl. Special things.” His dark voice whips through me like the winds of a summer storm.
The goosebumps on my arms traverse down my back and prickle down the skin on my legs.
“What things?” I ask, my eyes drifting along the outline of his body, the spinning heat gathering in my core making me feel shameful because the thoughts attached to it are wicked.
“Well.” His voice fills the back of the limo and my entire mind, as though he’s right there taking me from the inside out.
“It’s hard for parents to talk to their children about these things, but you need to know this is a safe place for you.
Nothing you say will disappoint me or surprise me.
You must be completely honest at all times. ”
“As Jamie or Hannah?”
“You are my daughter. The name is irrelevant.” The stir his words creates inside me makes the car feel as though it’s spinning on ice. “First, this should be easy, have you ever kissed a boy?”
“Just a boy? What about a girl?” I glare as a shiver runs through my shoulders.
I’m wickedly turned on, yes, but I’m still me and my snarky temper oftentimes overrides my reason.
“You only care if a boy kissed me, but if it’s a girl…
let me guess, that would be okay? Oh, and you might like to watch? ”
The fire in his eyes turns from playful to angry and I wonder why my self-preservation instincts didn’t factor in before now. I’m locked in the back of a moving vehicle with a stranger that has what could be referred to as a sketchy background at best.
He growls and I feel it down into my marrow. “A good Daddy cares who you kiss, the gender is irrelevant. But, I’d lay down a thousand to one odds that given the choice, it would be someone of the male persuasion you would have kissed. You plan on being a pain the ass princess the entire weekend?”