Daddy's Little Angel

2

Alina Pov

Mr. Parker has gone out. I know his eyes were always on me. I used to do it on purpose—just to provoke him, to make him burn with restraint. I know he’ll punish me for it… for daring to talk to another employee whose name I don't remember. I just want to provoke him like he did to me, coming closer to my face and running away in my dreams.

I know he saw everything.

I’ve seen his laptop. He has access to every room I walk in. Every hidden place he knew. Even my bathroom has a hidden camera that was installed when he came to my house. He thought I wouldn't know, I wouldn't see but I know he was obsessed with me and I loved his possessiveness.

His power to control me even when we tried to avoid the spark between us. It makes me feel safe under his gaze watching me twenty into four seven. And I also like undressing in front of it, knowing he was watching my every move.

Call it an absolute obsession, call it a sick little crush—but I’ve loved him since the day we met. He was always considered as my uncle. The first man I met in my teens and then after my dad’s death. In my teens it was a small crush but he never came back, never contacted us and I lost that small crush in my past.

I remember the second time I met Mr. Ryan Parker. It was the day my father passed. A day soaked in grief… and yet, that’s when I saw him. He came back, hugged me, comforted me in a way no one else ever did. Not even my mother—who disappeared into silence after my father died.

His calming scent had changed my past crush into something deeper, maybe love.

That’s when I decided: he would be mine.

He supported us, financially, emotionally. He carried our broken family like a ghost who refused to let us fall. He was everything my father once was… and something more. My father had always talked about him. I had seen his diary, the photographs of him in his 20s, and he was much more popular than any other man in their university, and his charm didn't fade away with time.

To the world, he might have taken on a fatherly role. But to me, he was the man who crept into my thoughts, into my dreams. The man I wanted to protect me—not out of duty, but out of love. Real, raw, dangerous love.

I wanted him to look at me like a woman, not a responsibility left by his friend. I wanted him to touch me to places like no other man had touched. I wanted to feel his rough hands on my skin. It was an obsession that kept me awake at night.

His scent had already filled the cabin which was shared by us. It calms my mind. He made sure nobody talked to me or they were fired without any reason. And I love every second of it. His possessiveness made me feel safe in front of the world where I stood alone and someone was with me to look after.

“Ms Easton,” He cleared his throat, looking at me and Oh god I melted with his voice. His voice was sexy, manly..too manly and rough just the way I like. I looked into his brown eyes and my words were stuck. He was an epitome of perfection.

“Your mother called, she wasn't available due to urgent meeting so she asked to take you to my house,”

“Yes.” I didn't know what to say. I always wanted to spend my night at his house. I think luck is on my side today. I didn't want to show my excitement so I just nodded my head. He didn't say much and went back to his seat.

My eyes couldn't leave his. Looking at him everyday sitting in front of my eyes my heart goes crazy. I need him to control me, torture me, use my body as he wishes. I didn't like those boys in my class, they weren't as dark as him. I wanted to save myself for the man who wanted to worship my body and use it like a slave.

I completed my work at 8 and he stood up from his seat. He didn't say anything keeping his distance from me and I followed him like a lost puppy.

We went out to the parking lot where his driver was waiting. He bowed his head, and we got inside. Mr. Parker had always been quiet around me. We rarely talked to each other—maybe he wanted to keep some distance between us. Maybe he didn’t want to f**k his friend’s daughter, even though he was clearly obsessed with me. I could feel the tension between us, the s****l tension.

But we sat in silence.

I knew about his obsession. I had seen it. But he never showed it in front of me. He always kept himself in the shadows, where I couldn’t see the wild side I knew he was hiding.

But I really wanted to see it—one day.

My thoughts were interrupted when my body fell on Mr Parker. He turned his head, looking outside.

“Sorry sir,” the driver apologized. I could hear his heartbeat, his shallow and warm breath tracing my hairline with a hint of his cologne, the manly scent that had captured my mind with sinful thoughts for years. My breath was uneven as I could feel his warm body against mine. My boobs pressed on his strong arms and I really wanted to feel his fingers on my body, devouring me, touching me everywhere. He pushed my body on the other side, looking into my eyes.

“Are you okay, Ms Easton?” he asked while looking at me with his mesmerising brown eyes, his front hair covering his eyebrows. I couldn't think much other than shaking my head. I wanted to shout, scream that no I wasn't okay at all and it's all because of you, the thought of you always made me feel vulnerable in your presence. I shrugged my thoughts, took a slight gulp and nodded my head slightly.

My hands were folded tightly in my lap, I stole a glance at him, his tailored suit a sharp contrast to the wild thoughts racing through his mind. He stared out of the window, jaw tight, but his fingers twitched beside his thighs, betraying the storm brewing inside him, his thoughts were audible to me even in the silence.

The driver kept his eyes on the road and I on him. I know it's inappropriate to look at a man who is the same age as your father but my mind has already been filled with his thought, his scent.

My breath hitched as he shifted, his knee grazing mine. The touch was brief, a f*****g tease, but it sent a bolt of heat straight to my core. I bit my lip slightly, fighting the urge to press my thighs against his.

He’s too damn old for you, my thoughts were screaming, but the idea only made me wetter. I imagined his hands, rough, commanding sliding up my bare thigh, his fingers brushing where I acted the most. My cheeks burned and I turned to the window, praying the cool glass would douse the fire licking my skin.

I could sense the heat in him too.