Jason hesitates and I can see he wants to reassure me that our arrangement isn’t simply business. That it’s much more than that, because it is. But my enjoyment of being kept and cared for must be showing on my face, because he says in a low voice, “My God, little girl, you fucking earned them. You earned anything you want.”
Satisfaction melts me into his lap. He gets me.
He really gets me.
We drive to a town forty-five minutes away that I didn’t even know existed. It’s definitely on the posh side, everyone driving nice cars, trees lining the avenue filled with boutiques and restaurants. By the time we arrive, the sun is setting and the town glows like a jewel, string lights twinkling in the trees, soft music floating down the block.
Jason brings me to a women’s clothing store and I almost gag at the prices, but he doesn’t even flinch when he hands over his credit card to the clerk. We walk out of the shop with several dresses, skirts, T-shirts, blouses and even a fancy pair of pajamas.
Strolling down the sidewalk beside Jason, I wonder what people think when they look at us. Most likely, they think we’re father and daughter, out for a shopping trip. We get some strange looks when he leads me into a lingerie store, however. I stand at his side while he picks out a variety of bra and panty sets for me, some sheer, others downright indecent. Meant to seduce, as opposed to functional. Black, purple, red, white. Thongs, bikini, boy short. He spends a thousand dollars on new underwear alone, despite my protests.
“I don’t need anything else,” I say on the way out of the store. “This is way too much, already. I—”
“One more stop.”
“Jason…no. What else could I possibly need?”
He doesn’t respond to my question, but he takes my hand. He holds it while we’re walking down the street, drawing the attention of several onlookers.
Nothing to see here, folks. Just a sugar baby getting spoiled rotten by her Daddy.
Maybe I should be embarrassed. Or self-conscious. But I only feel…seen. Safe.
There is something inside of me that exults in this man choosing my panties for me. Revels in his authority. I know how to make my own decisions. I grew up very independent, actually. I’m an honor student. I had a job senior year of high school. I’m the kid her parents didn’t have to worry about, because I was always on top of my responsibilities.
Giving some responsibilities to this man is a relief, though.
I feel important. Cherished. And…
His undivided attention makes my body feel sensitive. Awake. Turned on. Pliant.
I want to put on a silky panty set and have my body used for pleasure.
“What are you thinking about, angel?” Jason asks, bringing my hand to his mouth and kissing my knuckles, seemingly oblivious to the curious stares of passersby.
I can be honest with him.
“I was thinking…maybe the reason I like our arrangement so much…” He glances over, interested, a thoughtful line forming between his brows. “Maybe it’s because I took care of myself until now. My parents worked around the clock when I was growing up. I cooked for myself, worked at a sandwich shop, bought my clothes at the local thrift store. The way you treat me…it’s a nice break from worrying.”
“Good, angel. I don’t want you to worry about anything anymore. Just focus on school.”
“But I get to worry about you, too, don’t I?” We stop beneath an awning for another store, the wind meandering down the avenue to blow my hair around. There’s a light chill developing in the air and I step into Jason’s warmth, running my palms upand down the slopes of his pecs. “Your needs, I mean. I get to worry about those.”
A lustful light flickers in his eyes, but he shakes his head. Hesitates. “I’m a lot more worried about your needs.”
I tilt my head curiously. “What do you mean?”
“You’re eighteen, Shea. I’m ancient compared to you.” Slowly, he reels me in closer with a hand on my hip. “I can’t go with you to frat parties or hang out with your friends. I’m a workaholic. I’m strict on myself.”
“That’s what I like about you,” I whisper. “I want you to be strict with me, too. When I’m invited to a party, I want you to tell me no. That I can’t go. Because you need me to stay home and…”
“And what?”
My skin flushes unbearably hot. “And submit to my Daddy.”
His Adam’s apple bobs and gets stuck, hunger and affection blanketing his features. “I don’t know what the hell I did to deserve this. You. I feel fucking alive for the first time. I could buy you everything in every single one of these stores and we still wouldn’t be even.”
“I disagree.” I trace a finger down to his belt buckle, teasing the metal. “And I’m going to show you howmuchI disagree when we’re alone again.”
