Daddy's Girl: Raised To Please Him

Sydney shouldn't have been there, not at this hour, not when the whole house was asleep. But the moonlight called her like a siren's song, and the library had become her sanctuary, the only place where her thoughts could run wild without fear of prying eyes. She eased the door open, careful not to let it creak, but the sight that met her froze her in her tracks. Alan was there, leaning against the edge of the desk, a glass of amber liquid in his hand, the faintest shadow of a smirk playing on his lips as if he'd been waiting for her. The room smelled faintly of sandalwood and whiskey, the combination so intoxicating it felt like it could cloud her judgment entirely. "You've been restless," he said without preamble, his deep voice cutting through the heavy silence. He set the glass down, his movements slow and deliberate. "It's not hard to notice." Her heart slammed against her ribs, her throat tightening as she tried to find her voice. "I didn't mean to disturb you," she said, her voice quieter than she intended. She took a step back, but his gaze held her in place, pinning her to the spot. "You're not disturbing me," he said, and there was a sharpness to the way he spoke, something that felt like a challenge. He straightened, stepping closer, the moonlight catching the silver strands in his hair and the way his shirt clung to his frame. "Stay." It wasn't a request. It was a command, and the authority in his voice sent a shiver down her spine. Against her better judgment, she obeyed, letting the door fall shut behind her as she took a hesitant step into the room. Her pulse thrummed in her ears, every instinct screaming at her to turn and run, but she couldn't. She didn't want to. "What is it, Sydney?" he asked, his voice quieter now, a velvet-soft murmur that only made the air between them feel heavier. "What are you so afraid of?" Her breath hitched. "I'm not—" "You are." He cut her off, his gaze boring into hers as he closed the distance between them. When he stopped, he was close enough that she could see the faint stubble on his jaw, the flicker of something dark and unreadable in his eyes. "You've been avoiding me. Why?" The question hit her like a lightning bolt, and her carefully constructed walls began to crumble. She swallowed hard, her hands trembling at her sides as she tried to form an answer, but the words refused to come. "I—" she began, but then his hand reached out, his fingers brushing her chin with a gentleness that stole the air from her lungs. He tilted her face upward, forcing her to meet his gaze. "Tell me," he said, his voice low, intimate, dangerous. "What are you running from?" She couldn't breathe, couldn't think. Her mind was a whirlwind of emotions—fear, longing, guilt, and something darker, something she couldn't name but could feel in every fiber of her being. Her lips parted, the confession teetering on the edge of her tongue, but instead of words, a broken, trembling sound escaped her throat. Alan's eyes flicked to her lips, and for a moment, time seemed to stop. The air crackled with a tension so thick it felt like it could snap at any moment. And then he leaned in, his breath warm against her skin, his hand slipping to the side of her neck, his thumb brushing the hollow of her throat. "You can't keep looking at me like that," he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper, but the weight of his words hit her like a blow. "Like you want something you're too afraid to take." Her chest heaved, her fingers curling into fists at her sides as every muscle in her body screamed for her to move, to step away, to do anything but stand there and let the moment devour her. But she didn't. She couldn't. And when his lips hovered inches from hers, so close she could feel the heat of him, she thought she might shatter. "Sir..." Her voice was a broken whisper, a plea, a warning. "Don't call me that, use the word your Mommy wants you to call me" he demanded, his hand tightened ever so slightly, his thumb tracing a slow, deliberate line along her jaw. She couldn't help but gulp hard because of the tension between the two of them "D-daddy" His lips curled "Better" he murmured "Tell me to stop," he said, his voice rough, his breath uneven. "Tell me, and I will." She opened her mouth, ready to say the word, ready to pull the emergency brake before they crossed a line they could never come back from. But the word wouldn't come. Instead, she closed her eyes, her head tilting ever so slightly, her lips brushing his in a movement so subtle it could have been an accident. But it wasn't. The kiss was barely a kiss, a whisper of contact that sent a shockwave through her entire body. It was innocent and devastating all at once, the kind of kiss that carried the weight of a thousand forbidden thoughts. But before she could process it, before she could decide whether to pull away or press closer, the sharp sound of footsteps echoed from the hallway. They broke apart instantly, the spell shattering like glass as Sydney stumbled back, her chest heaving as panic surged through her veins. Alan's eyes darkened, his expression unreadable, but his body was taut with tension as he turned toward the door. The footsteps grew louder and closer, and Sydney's heart stopped as the doorknob began to turn. "Quickly... hide!!" he whispered.