Page 12 of Submitting to Daddy
You look better when you aren’t pretending to smile.
My breath catches in my throat as recognition immediately pulses through me. There’s no name, but I know exactly who it’s from—that smug, arrogant man. Even through the sterile light of the phone screen, my body reacts to him. I can practically feel his presence sliding over my skin and his warm breath blowing behind my ear. I reread the text, and picture him sitting in a penthouse apartment—shirtless, brooding, and impatiently waiting for my response.
Why is he shirtless in your thoughts, Madison?
Because I can’t help myself, my thumbs slide over the screen as though they have a mind of their own. I smirk at the three words—pleased with myself—and hit send.
You tipped better.
The dots appear immediately.
He really was waiting for my reply.
So it was the money that made you smile, then?
I chuckle, stretching out my legs and pulling the throw blanket back around my chest. My lips curve as I type back.
It’s adorable that you pretend it surprises you.
He doesn’t respond right away, and for a second, I think I might’ve bruised his ego. I’m about to put my phone down when the familiar three dots reappear on the screen.
No…
Adorable was that sound you made when you pressed against me and whispered, ‘Daddy.’
Heat spikes across my cheeks. My lips part in disbelief, and I actually look around my empty apartment like someone else might be witnessing my embarrassment. The memory he referenced flashes bright behind my eyes. The clench of his jaw as he fisted the plush leather of the couch, and his excitement twitched beneath me.
Fuck… He’s shameless.
I roll my eyes and rise from the loveseat, padding barefoot to the kitchen. The cool hardwood floor causes my toes to curl. I pour the wine down the sink, quickly rinse the glass, and fill it with icy tap water. Taking a generous gulp, I try to cool the sudden warmth in my chest.
He is far too smooth and confident. It’s not fair for the rest of humanity to even call what he does flirting. I’d bet money he could teach a masterclass on how to incinerate women’s panties.
My phone buzzes again, pulling me from my thoughts.
Tell me, Madison. That rule of yours… Is it one you’re willing to break?
I lean on the counter, wine glass still in hand. Him using my real name does something to me. I shouldn’t care that he’sinterested in me—not Raven—but I do.I stare at the screen for a moment longer before slowly typing back my reply.
Client rule. Boss rule. Take your pick. Both are still in effect.
His reply is instant.
So if I fire you, does that solve the problem?
I snort, loudly and unguardedly. My laughter echoes throughout my tiny apartment. Of course that’s his solution.Just erase the boundary.He’s ridiculous.
I’m not that easy, Mr. King.
But you are that tempting.
And again, it’s Cillian.
…or Daddy, since it sounds so sweet when you say it.
I chew the inside of my cheek, staring at his words—my pulse skipping, and my stomach flopping. Every fiber of my being is screaming that I should stop this.Put down the phone, Madison.Walk away before this goes too far.
Bold of you to assume you’ve earned that privilege, Mr. King.
