Against All Odds, I Want Daddy!

004

The car moved the second the door shut.

Elysia kept her hands in her lap, fingers twisted together, sunglasses still on. She didn’t look at the driver. She didn’t even speak.

The city slid past the tinted windows in a blur, eventually the car turned through tall iron gates and stopped in front of a modern glass-and-stone house that looked like paradise.

The rear door opened.

Mikael stood there, jacket discarded, white shirt sleeves rolled to his forearms, watching her with the same unreadable calm from the night before.

“Come in.”

She stepped out. The heels suddenly felt too high. The short dress suddenly felt like it was drawing her back, every step toward the open front door made her heart beat louder.

He ushered her in without speaking another word.

She stopped just past the threshold, sunglasses still hiding her eyes, suddenly very aware that she was alone with the man she had called a fool less than twenty-four hours ago.

Mikael closed the door behind them and studied her for a long moment. Then a slow smile curved his mouth.

“You were all strong and mighty last night,” he said, voice low. “Now you look… um, a bit of who you really are.”

Elysia’s cheeks burned. She reached up and finally took the sunglasses off, but she still couldn’t quite meet his eyes.

He stepped closer, not touching her yet, just close enough that she could feel the heat of him.

“You have some interesting similar patterns,” he continued. “You turned me down when I asked you to dance at the club, then later you agreed. You refused when I asked to meet, then you texted me first.” His head tilted slightly. “What’s different this time, Eclipse?”

She swallowed. The name from the stage sounded strange and intimate. Her voice came out smaller than she wanted. “I… needed to.”

Mikael’s smile deepened, dark and knowing.

“Good,” he said softly. “Because I needed you to as well.”

Mikael’s voice stayed low and even. “Like I said, I’m Mikael…”

“Mikael Mikaelson,” she cut in, the name tasting strange on her tongue. “Popularly known as Vozinha. Any other thing? Like your age, Mikael?”

He chuckled, the sound dark and almost amused. “No one calls me Mikael directly.”

Elysia tilted her head, something defiant sparking behind the lingering shyness. His refusal only made her push harder. “I asked for your age, Mikael.”

A beat of silence. Then he finally smiled again, “I’m forty-two.”

Her mouth dropped open before she could stop it. Forty-two. She hadn’t expected that. He didn’t look it, not even close. The sharp jaw, the solid muscle under the white shirt, the way he carried himself… he looked like a man who had somehow stopped at thirty-seven and decided aging was optional.

She recovered quickly, forcing her voice steady. “Any kids or wives?”

“A son,” he answered. “My wife is long dead.”

He said it without emotion, eyes never leaving her as she began to move. Elysia walked slowly across the wide living room, letting her hips sway just enough, the short black dress riding higher with every step.

She trailed her fingers along the back of a leather couch, then turned, giving him the full view of bare thighs and the soft curve of her waist.

She wasn’t sure if she was trying to reclaim the confidence from last night or if the house itself was making her restless. Either way, she felt his gaze follow every inch.

“Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?” he asked, voice quieter now.

She smiled, soft and a little sharp. “You’re the hundred-and-twenty-sixth to say that, Mikael. You might wanna try your luck with another girl. I know every single thing a guy can say to get under a lady’s skirt… and I can’t fall for them.”

Mikael’s eyes darkened. “I know every single word I can say to make you wet,” he said, calm and certain. “And trust me, you’ll fall for them.”

The word alone hit her like a spark to dry tinder.

Elysia’s smile faded into a frown. Heat bloomed low in her stomach, sudden and traitorous, and she felt it, slickness gathering between her thighs already, just from the way he said it.

She pressed her legs together without thinking, angry at her own body, and looked away before he could read too much on her face.

Elysia glanced at the thin gold watch on her wrist. The numbers made her stomach tighten.

She had somewhere to be tonight with her father, with the man they had already decided would be her husband.

Mikael noticed the shift in her posture. “Do you have any plans to meet your boyfriend after leaving here?” he asked.

“I’m single," she answered, voice steady. “And not looking for any man who’s just searching for someone to fuck.”

A slow smile touched his mouth. “Do I look like I’m looking for someone to f**k? There are a lot of sluts outside if that’s what I need.”

She smiled back, soft and a little dangerous. “Who knows. You might have a taste for greater things… which is why you chose me.”

She turned away from him then, needing a second to breathe, and her eyes landed on the large painting hanging on the far wall.

A naked lady stood at the edge of a dark beach, head tilted back, one hand resting low on her stomach, the other tangled in her own hair.

The brushwork was so precise it felt almost indecent, every curve, every shadow, every suggestion of wet skin rendered with quiet obsession.

Elysia stepped closer, unable to look away. “I drew it,” Mikael said behind her.

She glanced over her shoulder. “Seriously?”

“I have the sketches if you need evidence.” He moved nearer, stopping just behind her left shoulder. “I’m an artist when I want to be. I can draw your body so close to orgasm, I can make you shut your mouth and still scream..”

As the last words left his mouth, his fingers rose and gently brushed a strand of hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear with deliberate care.

The light touch sent a fresh wave of heat straight down her spine. She felt it immediately, the slickness between her thighs growing, unmistakable now, her body answering him even while her mind tried to stay sharp.

She didn’t step away.

She simply stood there, breathing a little too carefully, staring at the painted woman on the beach while Mikael’s fingers lingered near her cheek and the ache between her legs quietly worsened.

His hand settled on her shoulder, warm and heavy. Then it began to move slowly.

Fingers trailed down the bare slope of her arm, over the sensitive skin at the inside of her elbow, then lower, until his palm rested lightly against her waist.

The heat of him soaked through the thin fabric of her dress. Elysia’s breath caught, but she didn’t pull away.

Mikael’s mouth lowered near her ear.

“The beach…” he murmured. “I can draw them out from between your legs. I’ll use my fingers where necessary. And if it gets stuck, I can lubricate the shores with my tongue to allow the easy passage of the ocean into the beach. When the ocean finally comes out… I’m sure my paintbrush will go in with ease to paint.”

A soft, broken sound escaped her throat before she could stop it. Her thighs pressed together, the wetness already slick and obvious.

His hand slid a bit lower, still over the dress, tracing the curve of her hip with maddening patience.

She managed to speak, voice unsteady. “I’m sure I’m the same age as your son… or he’s older. You’re old enough to be my dad, Mikael.”

He smiled against her temple. “Then why don’t you try calling me Daddy.”

His fingers finally slipped beneath the hem of her dress, brushing the bare skin of her upper thigh. Elysia’s head tipped back against his shoulder as a full, helpless moan spilled out of her, louder than she intended, raw and startled.

Mikael’s voice stayed calm, almost gentle.

“Oh my dear… I haven’t even started. I haven’t even reached the sea, talk less of drawing them out. Are you that sensitive? Or don’t tell me you’re a virgin?”

She turned her face slightly toward him, eyes half-lidded, cheeks burning.

“I am, Daddy,” she whispered. “I am a virgin. I’ve never been touched like this.”

His hand slid higher beneath the dress, fingers tracing the soaked lace of her panties with slow, deliberate pressure. Elysia’s hips jerked once, a broken gasp leaving her lips.

Mikael’s mouth stayed close to her ear, voice low and rough.

“This is wrong in every way, and you know it.” His fingertip pressed lightly against the wet fabric, rubbing in tiny, maddening circles.

“This is right in every f*****g way, Mikael. Don't dare stop!” She muttered amidst moaning.

“It’s not just the age gap. You’re a virgin, Eclipse…” He circled again, slower, feeling how her body fluttered under the touch. “Now I see why you’re special.”

He didn’t push the lace aside yet. He just kept teasing that one sensitive spot, over and over, until her thighs trembled and soft, helpless sounds kept spilling from her throat.

“Your wish is my command,” he murmured. “Do you want this?”

The question was cruel in its patience. He stroked her again, firmer this time, then eased off, then returned, never quite giving enough.

Elysia’s head fell back against his shoulder. Her hands gripped his forearm. Every nerve between her legs felt swollen, aching, dripping.

Her body had already answered for her, hips rolling into his hand, breath coming in short, desperate pants, the wetness soaking through the lace onto his fingers.

She could no longer find the word no. It had burned away under the slow, merciless friction.

“Against all odds, Dad…” she whispered, the words broken by a moan as his finger finally slipped beneath the lace and dragged through her wet p***y.

“Against everything I’ve learnt… I want this. Against all odds, I want you. Let me feel how it is to be a woman. Make me, Mikael… Make me, Daddy…”