He let out another furious grunt, his fingers pumping deeper. “No.”
“But I really want to feel you inside me. You’re so big.”
“Too bad,” he said, but his breathing had become painfully laboured again. Kate was half-convinced this was a test, that he was teasing her as she had been teasing him. She assumed her most innocent tone. “Please, Daddy?”
Rugby Boy made a noise like a wild animal. “Fuck, you’re a greedy little thing, aren’t you?”
Kate, sensing she was about to get her way, added a little more sugar to her voice. “Yes, and I know it’s bad but I want it. I want you.”
Rugby Boy muttered something that sounded like ‘why isn’t anything ever easy?’ Before she could ask, he pulled his fingers from her soaking slit. “Fine, you want my dick, you’ll get it.”
Kate bit back a jubilant ‘Yessssss!’ “How do you want to do this? Do you have a condom? I don’t think I have a condom.”
“Sweetheart…” Rugby Boy cupped her jaw. Kate could smell herself on his fingers.
“What?”
She felt him shake his head. “Nothing. I’ll fuck you, but you’ll get back down there and suck me first. Get me nice and hard for you.”
“Yes, Daddy,” she said, the word getting easier with each and every use.
“Good, and take your fucking fingers away from there.”
Kate, who hadn’t even realised she was rubbing her clit, had her hand snatched away.
“That’s mine.” Rugby Boy ran a finger through the wet line of her cunt. “You don’t get to touch what’s mine. Now, get me ready.”
Kate propped herself on all fours between his legs, almost delirious with pleasure. Who knew that in Bendigo (population: ha-ha-ha) there lived the sex partner of her dreams? As she bent down and took him into her mouth, she began planning excuses for return visits. Maybe she could schedule an engineering job up here? It was out of the way, but he was worth it. The question was, would he be interested? Determined to prove her mettle, she took him as far into her throat as she could.
“That’s it.” His big hand braced itself around her jaw, as though testing how wide she could open her mouth. “Suck Daddy’s big cock.”
Rugby Boy calling himself that most treasured and lust-inspiring of titles made sweat break out on Kate’s neck. As she sucked she heard foil crackle and her heart leapt. She’d been worried about interrupting all the hotness to ask about condoms again, but it was clear Rugby Boy wasn’t going to be a jerk about this. She reminded herself to feel around the base of his shaft before he slid inside her, to make sure it was on. She’d learned about the stealthing movement at derby practise. It was real and it was terrifying.
“Just a little more,” Rugby Boy coached. “Just a little deeper and I’ll ride your pussy, Middleton.”
Kate sucked harder, tasting small surges of salty pre-come. She felt uneasy, as though his short sentence had been a threat. She replayed his words in her mind. Just a little more. Just a little deeper and I’ll ride your pussy, Middleton.
Middleton. Why would Rugby Boy call her Middleton? She had a lot of nicknames, but each one was restricted to a specific group of people. She called herself Kate. Her family called her Katie. Her roller derby team called her Macca, the Australian appellation for anyone with a McLastname. Her derby name was Princess Bleach. Her Aunt Rhonda had called her KJ. Only the guys at work called her Middleton. Only the guys at work…
Kate felt like she’d been plunged into a dunk tank full of nitrogen. She remembered showing Rugby Boy pictures of Kate Middleton on her phone because the nickname confused him, he’d heard it because Tyler Henderson had been there. Tyler Henderson had been there.
Kate suddenly knew, knew with every fibre of her being that the guy whose dick she was sucking on wasn’t Rugby Boy. She sat up, woozy and terrified.
“What’s happening, Middleton?” In the dim light, Kate could see the stranger had a transparent disk of latex pinched between his thumb and forefinger.
He shifted, so the silvery brightness sifting through the curtains revealed his profile and now that she was looking, Kate recognised the nose, the line of his jaw, the sharp cheekbones. She was in bed with Tyler Henderson. Her boss. She’d blown her boss. She’d swallowed her boss’s semen. She’d called her boss ‘daddy.’ She was currently in the process of re-sucking stern, unfathomably attractive, thought she was the scum of the earth, Tyler Henderson.
“Hoooooaaaaaaaah!” Kate scrambled backward on the bed, flapping her hands as though they were covered in wasps. “Hoooaaaaahh!”
“Middleton?” Tyler Henderson glanced around the room, no doubt trying to pinpoint the reason for her sudden insanity. “The fuck’s happening?”
But Kate could only moan and say ‘hoooaahhh’ and wriggle backward. How could she have missed it? Even in the semi-darkness, the broad body was nothing like a twenty-year-old’s. It was thick with muscle and hairy across the middle and, “Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god!”
“Middleton.” Ty’s voice punched through the air like a Ginsu knife. “Talk. To. Me.”
His voice was so familiar, liquid steel and molten lead. Why hadn’t she recognised him?
Kate pressed a hand to her chest. “Mr Henderson. It’s me, Kate. We’re…we’re hooking up!”
Everything went quiet. Kate could hear a cacophony of crickets chirruping outside the hotel window. She became profoundly aware of her half-naked body, her insanely wet panties and aching nipples. She’d done oral with Tyler Henderson. Kate hadn’t been a proper believer for years but the urge to drop to her knees and say the entire Hail Mary was overwhelming.
Ty spoke out of the darkness. “You didn’t know it was me, did you? You thought I was that fuckwit from the pub.”
“Er…yeah.”
There was another long silence, and Kate would have given anything, anything on earth, to rewind ten hours and instead of going to the pub, fall into a very big hole and die. “How…why are you in my hotel room?”
“This is my hotel room.” The soft malice in Ty’s voice sent a chill down Kate’s spine. “I brought you back here after you blacked out and I couldn’t find your room card .”
The floor seemed to shift beneath her bare feet. Tyler Henderson had known who she was the whole time. Of course he had, he’d called her Middleton, he’d knowingly let her blow him. Kate didn’t know whether to be flattered, disturbed, outraged, insulted or any other emotion on earth. “Mr Henderson, I don’t think you get it…I went down on you. And you touched me. And I went down on you and you came and I swallowed it.”
More painful silence. Kate wished she hadn’t put so much emphasis on the words ‘swallowed it.’
Ty pointed a ghostly hand towards the door. “This never happened. Get dressed and get back to your room, right fucking now.”
It was hard for Kate to find her clothes in the dark, but she didn’t turn on the light and neither did Ty. He remained in bed, silent and motionless as she pulled her skirt up her legs and tugged on her stiff Mary Janes. Her bra was still in the bathroom, but she decided to leave it behind, sacrifice it for the greater good. It felt like Tyler Henderson’s hotel room was running out of breathable oxygen. She scurried to the door and all but flung herself into the night air. The door slammed behind her, severing the experience into then and now. She dug her keycard out of her secret skirt pocket and ran toward her room. Her hands were trembling so hard she could barely swipe the card against the door. As soon as she was in her room she picked up her phone, desperate to unburden the horror of this situation on someone else, but there was only one person she could talk to about this, and at two a.m. on a Wednesday night, she’d be a jerk to call Maria. She sent her a message asking her to call once she was awake and took a long, hot shower that didn’t go an inch toward making her feel clean or calm. Despite the insanity of what had happened she was still so aroused it hurt. Her body, brought to the very brink of orgasm by her secret crush
was taut as an elastic band. She lay down on the bed and ran a finger through her slit, carressing herself lightly the way Ty had, then stopped.
That’s mine. You don’t get to touch what’s mine.
She shivered and took her hand away, not letting herself question why, not letting herself think of anything at all. Instead, she put on her complimentary dressing gown, made herself a powder hot chocolate and settled on the bed to watch Scrubs. She had no idea what tomorrow would bring, but she knew she wouldn’t be sleeping tonight.
Chapter 3
Daddy. The word echoed through Ty’s brain, reverberating through the soft tissue. Daddy.
He was sitting in a conference room, and instead of focusing on the presentation about interior solar panels, all he could think about was that miserable, dangerous, unforgettable word. Daddy.
For more than three decades, he’d been dumbstruck by that word. The word and the idea behind it. Not the notion of being a father, not the desire to have some pornstar type cry out ‘daddy!’ while he did her in the ass. What he wanted was complicated, dark and detailed as a Leng Jun painting.
The fantasies began when he was young, young enough that the idea of him being a dad was ridiculous. They lived and breathed with him, growing as he did. Ty wasn’t religious, but his desire to play daddy from such a young age made him wonder if reincarnation wasn’t real. It felt like he’d inherited another man’s tastes. As though some higher power had said ‘Daddy is the word, and the word is Daddy and Daddy is the only thing that will turn your crank. Also, you have a sadistic streak, enjoy that. Amen.’
Getting off on such a massive cultural taboo had always freaked him out. He grew up thinking he was evil on the inside, like Ted Bundy or Ivan Milat. He was the school captain, the only guy in Parratanna school history to make the first tier rugby team at fifteen. His success—and his hair colour—earned him the nickname ‘Golden Boy’, but it had never felt earned. He couldn’t kiss a girl without wanting to pin her down and make her hurt, and what kind of golden boy did that make him? He started to ignore the chicks who hung around the clubrooms asking if he could give them a lift home. He pruned back his crushes like rose bushes. If asked why he didn’t have a girlfriend, he said chicks were annoying and the sex wasn’t worth it. It was a pretty misogynist sentiment, but in a small town in the ‘80s, people took it as a sign of maturity.
“Good thinking, Tyso,” his old man had said, slapping him on the back. “No need to get tied down to the scrubbers around here. Wank, study hard, go to uni.”
Words had been Ty’s only release. He spent hours writing out his fantasies in longhand, frantically jerking off and then locking the papers in his guitar case. It weighed heavily on him, his grimy treasure, but it was the only thing that helped him stay sane. The older he got the more his hormones thrashed like live eels, demanding he fuck, insisting he fuck, telling him he would die if he didn’t fuck.
It wasn’t until uni that things changed. Away from his family and the hot Queensland sun, the idea that he would snap mid-orgasm and murder whatever girl he lost his virginity to just seemed kind of…stupid. So he lost his virginity. Then he lost it some more. As he became more experienced, he learned to pass himself off as a fan of rough sex. Plenty of girls were into light spankings and bondage and that was satisfying enough to stave off his darker, less acceptable urges. He thought of such sex as the beef-paste astronauts ate in space, nutritious if not actually food. If his girlfriends had known that, they might have been insulted, but Ty had no intention of telling anyone about his kinks. He left the bloody meat of his fantasies in the guitar case he’d brought from Parratanna to Melbourne and was determined to let them rot there.
That wasn’t to say he didn’t fuck up. A few times he’d drunkenly initiated role play that went down like a lead balloon, a few lovers found (or went looking for) his porn and didn’t like what they saw one bit. The daddy stuff unnerved even the kinkiest of his sex partners. Ty understood that. His preferences lay along the fault lines of multiple taboos: older man/younger woman, incest and abuse of power, domestic violence. Research conducted on early computers told him age-play wasn’t unheard of, but Ty couldn’t trust his partners would believe him when he said he wasn’t turned on by abuse. It had taken him years to understand he wasn’t turned on by abuse, just the games, just the consensual perversion of it all.
He was a somewhat literate guy—captain of his school debating team—but he didn’t have the words to articulate his needs. Not that it mattered, Ty had a feeling he could have been Bill fucking Shakespeare, and it wouldn’t have convinced any of his exes to put on a tartan skirt and blow him for pretend lunch money.
The only person he’d come close to having a fulfilling D/d relationship with was Veronica. She’d called him daddy in the sack. Ty wasn’t sure how she found out he liked it, he assumed he’d told her when he was drunk. They never took it further than her saying that word, but to have sex while a beautiful woman called him daddy was everything. He’d been effortlessly faithful, so sure it couldn’t get any better, then she left him, and that very same week he met Middleton. She was so saccharine and wide-eyed, Ty convinced himself what he wanted from her was pure projection, and yet she’d come into his bed last night and called him that fucking word. Called him that word with the kind of joyful lust he’d waited his whole life to hear and she hadn’t even known it was—
“Hey, Boss!”
Ty started, crushing the cardboard coffee cup in his hand and dousing his chest in hot milk. “Shit!”
Jake Holland, a perpetually bewildered redhead commonly referred to as ‘Dutchy’, winced. “Fuck, sorry boss, I’ll go get some serviettes.”
He dashed off. Ty attempted to pat himself down with his notepad, meeting the gaze of everyone who stared at him until they looked away. Dutchy returned a few seconds later with an insanely high stack of paper towels.
“Are you right, boss?” he asked, handing them over.
“Fine,” Ty lied.
Dutchy dropped his ass into the seat beside him. “Sure. You just look a bit…out of it”
That would be because he was fresh from enduring one of the worst nights of his life. No sleep Ty could have dealt with. No sleep would have made sense. Instead, he’d passed out not long after Middleton left and woken twenty minutes later grinding a hotel pillow. He should have stopped, should have taken control of himself, but his head had been swimming with thoughts of Middleton. He pictured fucking her, her pert tits shaking as he hammered into her slippery little pussy. “Daddy,” she’d say. “Fuck me harder, Daddy.”
Half-asleep and unable to stop himself, he thrust into the bedding. The rough material felt nothing like a woman’s cunt but when he came, he did it so hard his whole body convulsed. He soaked his briefs, warm come spreading across his lap and seeping into the pillow. Feeling utterly depraved, he’d mopped up and fallen back to sleep. He woke the same way an hour later, his cock throbbing, his brain sagging with memories of Middleton sucking his dick. Out of sheer desperation, he’d stroked himself in bed, soiling the already soiled bedding some more.
That was it, he told himself when it was over. I’m done.
Only he wasn’t. After forty minutes, he’d woken up his body primed to fuck a girl who wasn’t there. He’d forced his hand away from his cock and gotten up to take a leak. That was when he found her bra. It was exactly the kind of bra he’d thought a girl like Middleton would wear, pink lace with a delicate bow between the cups. He checked the back for her size but the label was so worn the writing had rubbed away. He guessed they were C’s, pert and supple beneath her t-shirt.
He brought the lace to his nose and inhaled. Her bra smelled like her skin, like strawberry cheesecake filling and he remembered with a visceral hunger the noises she’d made as she rode his hand; the helpless sobs and whimpers of a good girl pushed to her limits. Ty’s self-control collapsed faster than you could say ‘lost cause.’ He spent the rest of the evening tuggin
g on himself, by the end his dick ached but he couldn’t stop. His need was bottomless, every release only making him want more. He should have fucked her. Should have worked himself inside her tender cunt and ridden her while she called him daddy. Now nothing else would do. The truth of that, along with the memories of what he and Middleton had done kept him abusing himself until morning.
When sunlight peered through the thin hotel curtains, Ty’s sheets were drenched in sweat and come and the whole suite smelled like raw sex. He made a half-hearted attempt at cleaning up but there was no getting rid of the stains or the smell. The hotel staff were going to think he was an animal.
Ty had dragged himself into the bathroom for a cold shower. When he got out, he saw the icy water had done nothing to remove the shadows under his eyes. He looked haggard as a paperback detective whose case was going very badly. Staring at himself his misery turned to anger. How dare Middleton have thought he was that stupid kid? How dare she suck his dick imagining another man’s face? How dare she crawl into his bed and make him think she was tired of fighting the same attraction he’d felt the moment he laid eyes on her? She’d seen right into his soul and she hadn’t even known who she was looking at.
Dutchy nudged his side. “You sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine,” Ty repeated for what felt like the nine hundredth time. “Shouldn’t you be taking notes?”
“We know all this shit already. Flex-panels are no good in our houses.”
“Doesn’t matter.” Ty nodded his head at the woman speaking. “Start taking notes.”
Dutchy pulled out his pen, grumbling to himself. Ty watched, exasperated. So far the GGS guys had treated this trip as a chance to get away from their families and drink too much. That was fine, but you needed to do some fucking work as well. Despite everyone in management making that clear, his men resented his every attempt to make them do their jobs. Ty thought longingly of the MFB where the chain of command was fixed, and every man knew his place. This kind of bullshit would never have happened there. He’d wanted to spend the rest of his life in the Metropolitan Fire Brigade, but fate had dealt him a different deck. Now he was treading water in the corporate world where his job consisted of doing paperwork and babysitting a bunch of borderline alcoholics. It wasn’t a hard job, overseeing the design of ecologically friendly houses, but it wasn’t particularly inspiring.