CHAPTER EIGHT
Tristan
Fuck, things have gotten out of hand. That meeting with the English teacher was nothing, that’s not what’s bothering me. It’s the whole guardian/ward stuff. I’d been prepared to acknowledge Mr. Ranger as the competition, as another man competing for Daisy’s attention when I caught myself. What the fuck was wrong with me? This was my charge for crying out loud. Sure, she was eighteen now but that didn’t mean that she was prepared to handle a man twenty years her senior, much less one who was supposed to be her informal protector.
And the events of last week crossed my mind again. Oh god, what the fuck was wrong with me? It’d been so illicit, how she’d shown me her pussy at the table, those pink parts gleaming and moist, making me cum just from the sight. And I’d replayed the incident in my head over and over again, jacking off in my bed, heck even at work, the little girl had overtaken my mind.
But that’s the thing. I’m Daisy’s freakin’ guardian after all, the one man in the world who shouldn’t be having these thoughts. She’s off-limits, we’re bound together by her mother’s will, and Carolyn never intended for something like this to happen. She would never have left me at the steering wheel if she knew my thoughts now, of what I’d already done, how I’d forced Daisy to show me her pussy at the dinner table, how I’d almost kissed her again just now. It was so fucking wrong, men go to jail for shit like this and I have a reputation to protect, a multinational company that’s centered around my image, my aura. So I have to keep Daisy at arm’s length going forwards. It’s best this way, my empire will be safe and there’ll be no gossip.
But still, a man has needs and I wasn’t above indulging myself once in a while. Because you see, the restroom Daisy used at Marks Holdings is my private one, lavishly furnished inside with hand soaps, body lotions, all sorts of niceties for lady friends. And of course, there was a camera in there, the better to watch women as they preen in the mirror, doing their make-up, fixing their stockings and adjusting their panties.
And oh yeah, a camera runs 24/7 and recorded Daisy’s little interlude in the private chamber. So the minute I smelled her cream in the air, it was clear what had happened. As soon as they left, I flicked on my monitor and watched, massive and aroused as the girl took off her blouse, rinsed it out a bit before touching herself.
And now, alone once again in my office, my hand clicked the mouse so that I entered a protected drive on my mainframe. No way did anyone else see this shit, it was top secret and I had reel after reel of womanflesh stored on there, most from years past but there was one labeled “Daisy” that had been seeing a lot of action recently. Unzipping my pants, my dong popped out to full mast immediately, just from the anticipation.
Fuck, I thought internally. Your ward hasn’t even lit up the screen yet and you’re already fucking ready to go, ready to blast your semen into a wad of Kleenex, ready to do the dirty on your own. It was the angel on my right shoulder speaking in my ear, but immediately the demon on my left answered.
So what? It whined. No one’s gonna be hurt from all this, you’re just making yourself happy once in a while. Daisy doesn’t know you’re doing it, you’re having fun on your own.
And just like the multiple other times in the past, the devil won out. I clicked play and sat back groaning in my chair as the screen flashed to life, hand on my rock solid pole.
Because the brunette was so dirty, so delicious, so utterly wanton, that I could almost picture myself in the bathroom with her. Sure, she was shy at first, nervously licking her lips a little, staring at herself with her bra on but pretty soon, she lost all her inhibitions and stripped off the undergarment, freeing her jugs, those baby pink nipples hard as rocks. Practically drooling, eyes glued to the screen, I watched as she circled those puffy nips with her fingers, lifting a big boob up to kiss the tip slightly, swirling her tongue around the sensitive spot before dropping her teat to hike up her skirt.
And it made me so fucking hard that my hand was already a blur on my pole, the massive shaft pulsing and ready to spurt on a moment’s notice. But we were getting to the good part now.
Because yeah, there was that delicious pink cunt, Daisy still wasn’t wearing panties on a regular basis. Smiling slyly, she hoisted one foot up onto the counter for better access, wet snatch completely revealed and coyly reached between her legs, fingers slipping down to pull her pussy lips apart, giving me a good view up that steaming channel.
Oh fuck, she was so delicious, insides wet, moist, a deep, slick ruby red that contrasted with the pale white of her labia. And without further stimulation, I came then, my pole erupting in my hand, the white spilling over my fingers, hot jism leaking all over. Fuck fuck fuck! My hand continued to rub up and down my pole as my little brunette frigged her cunt, fingers running in and out of that slick pink channel, pussy pulsing and throbbing as she worked herself to ecstasy.
And mesmerized, I stared like a madman until a buzz rudely interrupted my trance. WTF?
“Mr. Marks, Ms. Lydia is here,” piped my secretary’s voice. Oh shit. Lydia Messos is a business partner, a real viper of a woman whom I forced myself to associate with occasionally. Unfortunately, even as CEO sometimes you have to kiss ass to make sure the right people see your product, buy your shit, and Lydia was one of those people who despite being pure poison to the soul, knew everyone and anyone in NYC, making it paramount to stay on her good side.
And tonight I’d agreed to have drinks with her at the Carlyle Hotel, a sumptuous palace known for its after work scene. Shit! Glancing at my watch, I saw that it was only six thirty. Hadn’t we planned on drinks at seven? The bitch was early, she’d wanted to catch me off-balance and had succeeded.
“Tell her I’ll be right out,” I ground out, stuffing my dick back into my pants. But who was I kidding? I’d fucking splattered all over and there was jism on my trousers, white even on my shoes. With a growl I stood up, striding over to an oak cabinet cleverly hidden in the wall of the room. Pressing a hidden button, a door swung open to reveal a full array of clothes. I stroked my jaw thoughtfully before selecting a new pair of dress pants with Italianate loafers to match. Yeah, just what the CEO ordered.
Dressing myself quickly, I stuffed the dirty clothes into a hamper before shutting the oak door on everything. My secretary knew where that shit was, Mrs. Crohn has been with me for years now and has seen my semen-stained clothing before. Granted, there’d been more of it lately now that I was regularly watching the video of Daisy, but as always, Mrs. Crohn was discreet, subtle, her voice evincing nothing as we exchanged good mornings each day. I’d have to give her a five-figure bonus this year, a good admin deserves every penny.
And mentally preparing myself, I opened the door to my office, striding out with long, purposeful steps.
“Lydia,” I said courteously, nodding my head, “You’re early.”
“Really?” said the skinny blonde, feigning shock. “I thought we said six thirty,” her blue eyes innocent and wide.
But I could tell the bitch was lying. Lydia has a brain like a steel trap, ready to catch whatever piece of man she could. It didn’t matter that I’d rebuffed her advances multiple times, if anything the rejection only made her more determined. And as usual, Lydia was in fine form today, homing in on my weak spot like a carrier pigeon.
“How’s that girl?” she purred sultrily as we made our way to the elevators. “You know, the maid for hire?”
I gave her a hard look as the floor dropped below us.
“My ward is fine,” I said smoothly. “Daisy’s doing great.”
“Oh really?” smirked Lydia. “Oh really, you don’t just use her as free help? Not that you can’t afford real help, but having another set of hands in the kitchen is always useful.”
And my brows lowered, face growing furious at the suggestion. Daisy was more to me than the help and I fucking hated how some people saw her as a charity case. The brunette was a young woman with a bright future, why the hell was Lydia equating her with some no-name maid? But I kept my feelings in check, expression bland. Never let the viper get under your skin.
“Daisy’s going to college next year,” I said with exaggerated courtesy. “In fact, I’m thinking of taking her to visit my alma mater, Hudson U. in Upstate New York.”
Lydia just shrieked hysterically.
“You think that girl can get into Hudson?” she snorted. “What, I thought she was a C-level student, not some kind of whiz kid.”
I kept my face frozen as I held open the car door.
“Daisy’s quite smart, you’d be surprised,” I said neutrally. “She did well at boarding school and is at the top of her class now.”
“Oh sure,” replied Lydia sarcastically. “Let me guess, Swiss boarding school equals good education? I think not,” she sniped. “Those places are for finding husbands, not finding a brain,” she said, unable to let go without one last jab.
I would have physically hit the blonde then, smacked that woman so that her face cracked open, but restrained myself. This was just business and there are multiple ways to intimidate subtly, without physical force. So I kept my face impassive, courteously shutting the door.
But Lydia just didn’t get it, had no inkling of how angry I was. Because once we were settled in the car, she launched herself at me full force, slinging a shapely leg over mine, long red fingernails crawling up my knee.
“Hey big guy,” she purred. “Let’s just forget it, okay? It’s nothing, not even worth a conversation,” she said dismissively, drawing close. The scent of her perfume was heavy in the air, cloying and practically choking me, my air passages closing on contact, making me hack slightly.
“Lydia, no go baby,” I said smoothly, turning my head away. God, even the fumes from passing cars were better than whatever this woman had spritzed on her body.
But Lydia is tenacious, she didn’t get to where she is by taking no for an answer. So before my stunned eyes, the blonde unzipped the front of her dress until the fabric split open, her body creamy and nude before me. It was some weird designer outfit where there was a big gold zipper that ran all the way from the neckline to the hem so the thing literally separated in two, revealing her body from head to toe, that cunt, those boobs bare for my gaze. I saw that my little ward wasn’t the only one who didn’t wear underwear, the blonde had shaved herself until she was bare as a baby. But that’s where the similarities ended because where Daisy was plump and juicy, this woman was all skin and bones, wrinkled like a hag.
“Come on Tristan,” Lydia moaned breathily, winking at me in the backseat, leaning back halfway while canting her hips up so that I could get a better view. “Come on, kiss me,” she egged me on.
And a normal guy would have been on it in an instant because it’s not every day you get a woman like Lydia offering herself up to you for free. But she just wasn’t my type, I can’t get over the boniness, I could see her hips protruding, rib cage moving up and down rapidly as she breathed. Plus, her skin stretched dryly over her frame, papery thin and dusty almost, like an ancient piece of parchment. I leaned back subtly, trying to keep my distance, because I was well and truly repulsed. I like curvy, heavy even, with big boobs, a luscious ass, and wide, swinging hips. And at this moment, I was addicted to a certain brunette’s curvy body and Lydia was exactly the opposite of what I had in mind.
But ever aware that the blonde was a business associate, I tried to keep it professional.
“Lydia, this isn’t a good time,” I said, keeping an even tone, not looking at her. “We’re already at the Carlyle.”
Sure enough, the black car had pulled up to the curb, a doorman already scurrying out, one hand reaching for the handle.
But Lydia wouldn’t be denied. Not caring that we were about to be exposed, she thrust a finger into her snatch, lubing it up before wiping it across my lips, forcing me to taste her cunt juice. It was so rancid, spoiled and rank that I almost choked right there. But the blonde didn’t give a shit.
“Oh you like it, stop pretending Tristan,” she hissed as she zipped herself back up into the dress. “You used to drink me like wine when we dated.”
I shook my head again as the door opened. It was true that once upon a time, I’d gone out a couple times with Lydia, fucked her brains out on a whim, stuck my dick into her dry box. But it’d been a turn-off even then, hard to get hard, hard to come, the twig-like arms and legs like spider’s feet brushing against my skin.
So I’d never followed up, keeping our interactions professional after that. Except Lydia had never forgotten and continued to bring it up, alluding to our “torrid affair,” the “times you banged me,” and other embarrassing events. I shook my head. What would it take to get her to lay off? I sighed, realizing that so long as Marks Holdings did business with her company, I was probably stuck in some way, shape or form with the scheming blonde. Fuck, I ruminated, fuck, fuck, fuck.
And the woman didn’t let up once we were in the Carlyle either. She paraded in like she owned the place, sashaying right and left, her hair mussed, make-up slightly ruined from her display in the car. Why hadn’t she cleaned herself up? Did she want to give the impression that we’d been fucking in the backseat, that we’d gotten down on the short car ride over?
Evidently so because when the bartender came our way, the blonde leaned over, showing a bit of cleavage and breathed, “Just a water for me to cool down, thanks hon,” while waving a hand back and forth, fanning herself.
It was so fucking unprofessional, I could see people watching us from the corners of their eyes. After all, I was an eligible bachelor and Lydia was a scrawny blonde, a socialite who always showed up in the papers. You can bet that people were looking, talking out the sides of their mouths, drawing conclusions already. Ah, it was all bullshit, the Post could write whatever they wanted, I didn’t care what the editors of Page Six reported.
But suddenly everyone’s gaze turned away because another group of customers had arrived, breezing into the Carlyle bar in a gust of heady perfume, all long legs and nubile bodies, giggling and fawning. I turned away, bored. It was just another group of high school girls, hot sure, but there was no way my ward was with them. Daisy had just gotten back from Switzerland and as far as I knew, hadn’t made many friends yet.
But suddenly a flash of brown curls caught my eye, a certain bounce, a wiggle to a walk. Because there she was. My luscious little ward wearing a come-to-Daddy outfit, all tight curves and jouncy ass. And you know what? I was willing to bet that there were no panties underneath that skirt, that pink pussy bare and wet … and all mine.