Page 4 of Daddy

I blink, hardly believing that it could actually be him. He’s nearly fifteen years older than me. The few times I’ve noticed his eyes on me, they appear to be filled with disdain or annoyance. Yet, I’ve spentwaytoo many nights fantasizing about what I’d like that broody bodyguard to do to me.

Why is he bidding?

My heart is pounding, and my tuxedo suddenly feels tight and suffocating. The silver-haired man bids again, and Rory stares at me with sheer determination. Lifting his hand to garner Tristan’s attention, he shouts, “One hundred thousand.”

This isn’t like the other two men. This is personal. My mind spirals, and I’m unsure of what’s happening—or how to feel about it—I stare back at him in disbelief.

“Sold!” Tristan announces, pointing toward Rory, who is walking through the crowd to claim his winnings. The entire room erupts into applause, but all I can hear is the thundering of my heart echoing in my ears.

I stand at the edge of the stage, frozen, and trying to comprehend what the fuck just happened.

CHAPTERFIVE

RORY

The realization hits me in waves as I lead Jorge down the viewing hallway toward one of the private rooms reserved for tonight’s auction participants. Every step I take feels heavier than the last. After all these years, he’s finally mine.

Ambient light casts shadows on the walls as we enter the dimly lit, quiet room. Jorge’s normal ease and confidence has faded slightly, replaced with a more rigid posture as I gesture for him to step into the room before me. I close the door behind us, and he shifts awkwardly, fidgeting with his tuxedo sleeve nervously. The air in the room is thick as it fills with silence.

Jorge’s eyes momentarily meet mine before abruptly looking away. “Thank you,” he whispers, his voice low and a little shaky. “I can pay you back. Eventually.”

Caught off guard, my brows furrow as my face scrunches in confusion. “Pay me back?” I repeat, not quite understanding what he means.

His hands twitching at his sides, Jorge seems to grow more uncomfortable by the second. “Yeah… you know… for bidding on me. Making me look good, so I didn’t go for a couple thousand like the guy before me.”

I can’t help but laugh softly to myself, shaking my head. My bid wasn’t some charity case—a one-off transaction to keep him from being embarrassed. It’s far more than that. “That’s not why I bid on you,” I confess. My voice is steady, but it carries an underlying tension that I can’t mask from him.

I take a few steps, closing the distance between us as my gaze rakes over his body—not hiding my appreciation of him in the slightest. He’s remarkable. This close, there’s no hiding the defined muscular frame bulging beneath his expensive tuxedo. His prominent pecs push at the lapels as his breaths grow more rapid while I take him in. The soft light spills over his rich bronze skin, the shadows accentuating his rough jawline and defined cheekbones. But it’s his eyes I can’t pull away from. His deep chocolate pools are wide and filled with confusion, curiosity, and maybe even a tinge of… interest?

He swallows hard, and his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as his lips part like he’s struggling to find the words to say what’s on his mind. Words I don’t give him the chance to find. “It’s not why I bid on you at all,” I repeat, more firmly and purposefully. “Now, be a good boy and let me see what I bought.”

His breath catches, and there’s a brief moment of stillness between us—both of us waiting to see if he’s going to follow my instruction. He shifts his weight slightly and raises his hands to the front of his jacket. With slow, deliberate fingers, he works to undo each button.

He finally slips the jacket from his shoulders, and my eyes trace the outline of his chest—his starched white shirt clinging to the taut muscles beneath it. Without breaking eye contact, he carefully tosses the jacket to the nearby bed as he swallows nervously again.

“Go on,” I hoarsely whisper, coaxing him. “Keep going.”

His eyes flicker—a fleeting mixture of hesitation and desire—as he inhales sharply. He fists the shirt, slowly pulling it free from his waistband. It rises just high enough to provide a glimpse at the strong lines covering his stomach. The sight causes my breath to catch and my cock to twitch.

“That’s it,” I murmur my praise. Jorge removes the shirt and haphazardly tosses it toward the jacket. His chest rises and falls heavily, and I can barely pull my eyes from him.He’s impeccable.Absolutely perfect.

I step close to him. So close that my tuxedo jacket brushes against his bare skin and my nostrils are flooded with the complex earthy and floral blend of his cologne.Damn, he smells good.“Is it true?” I ask, enjoying his scent. “What Tristan said about you? Do you need a Daddy with a firm hand to keep you in line?”

“Yes,” he answers hesitantly.

With my lips a breath from his ear, I whisper, “On your knees.”

He doesn’t hesitate to comply, quickly dropping to the floor before me. I look down at him and appreciate the way his deep brown eyes look while he stares up my body. Brushing the back of my hand along his cheek, I exhale, “You look so good on your knees for Daddy.”

CHAPTERSIX

JORGE

“So? How was it?” Layla asks with eager curiosity.

The sun pours over her terrace, casting a warm glow across the space as I sit back in my seat. I take a sip of my caramel-flavored iced coffee, which does little to dull the heat still lingering in my chest from last night.Which is only rekindling with her question.I’ve never been shy about sharing my sexual escapades. Especially not with Layla. She knows my history—every sordid fling and disappointing encounter. But last night wasn’t like any of those.Not even close. And I don’t know how to explain it to her.

After setting my glass on the table between us, I run a hand through my hair and try to find the words I’m seeking. “It… It wasn’t likethat.”

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