CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Daisy
I wish I could say that everything was a happily ever after, but it didn’t turn out that way. Life isn’t a fairy tale, and things with my guardian didn’t work out, unfortunately.
Oh sure, things were fine for the rest of the weekend. After I performed my little dildo show, I was floating on air, feeling nothing less than spectacular. The big man wouldn’t let me out of his arms, carrying me into the shower with him, making me bend over and take it, this time with his dick instead of the dildo all the while whispering raunchy promises in my ear.
“You got that, baby girl?” he rasped into my ear. “Only Mr. Marks touches you, only Daddy’s cock goes in that sweet pussy. You belong to me.”
And what could I do but gasp and nod breathlessly, my insides quivering, cunt fucked so good. Because there was nothing for me except Daddy, nothing for me except Tristan, my nights and days were filled with him, my thoughts complete, whirling with sensations, the power and glory that was being with this man.
But once we got home, things ground to a halt. And I mean everything stopped - the sweet nights in bed, the dirty playtime, the intimate confessions, the emotional admissions. On the one hand, I hadn’t been completely sure that Tristan loved me because there were no words. But it sure as hell seemed like it. There was every indication that he wanted me, that it was more than just a one-time thing, that I meant more to him than a velvety, nubile body available for his desires. After all, there’d been the time in the chapel, the library, the multiple times he’d looked at me with emotion in his eyes, words on the tip of his tongue.
But that’s the thing. Tristan never actually said, “I want to see where this goes,” “Let’s keep seeing each other after this weekend,” or even a measly, “I like you a lot.” I can’t say what I expected exactly but certainly not what happened next.
Because when we got to the doorstep of his mansion, the big man drew me close to him, pulling me in for a deep kiss, gazing into my eyes, those blue eyes penetrating, so knowing, before swatting me on the butt.
I’d giggled deliciously, figuring that this was the foreplay to another round of steamy sex, that we were just teasing, heating things up before taking them to the next level. And Tristan seemed to be in a good mood.
“You’re cute, baby girl, so delicious,” he growled and I tittered, stepping into the foyer, our luggage a pile behind us. Oh, where was that sexy thong and the dildo? Packed in my bags and ready to be used again, pulled out in a flash.
But oddly, I didn’t see Mr. Marks that night. I wasn’t sure where he was, maybe buried in work too busy to eat, and so I sat alone at the dinner table in my babydoll dress, feeling idiotic as I swung my heels like a child. Back down, I scolded myself. Tristan’s a busy man and took time out from his schedule to chauffeur me upstate, show me around his alma mater. He needs to catch up, to see to his empire. Besides, there’s tomorrow. There’s always tomorrow.
But the big man was a no show the next day as well. Tristan didn’t come to dinner, didn’t knock on my bedroom door, didn’t intrude unexpectedly, didn’t even seem to eat anymore. In fact, it wasn’t clear he was in the house, it was so quiet, the mansion dim and gloomy, just my lonely steps echoing on the marbled stairs. Where was he? Where was my guardian? Why wasn’t he making an appearance? Didn’t we have a connection of some sort?
But evidently Tristan could turn emotions on and off in the blink of an eye, his iron control and steely will making the impossible possible. And so I shook, shoulders heaving, my heart slowly folding in on itself, crumpling underneath the realization that I’d been nothing more than a fling. On the outside I looked okay, going to class as always, smiling and laughing as part of the cool crowd at school, cooing at cute boys, pretending that I was interested in a million things. But it was a mirage. I was a ghost floating among tumbleweeds, hollow, soulless, eyes hot from crying myself to sleep each night.
And even my last hope collapsed. I thought for sure Mr. Marks would show up to my high school graduation. As I sat there under the sun, mortarboard perched on my curls, my breast fluttered, heart leaping in my throat. Was Mr. Marks here somewhere? My eyes scanned the crowd reflexively, pulse jumping. Was he here? Had my guardian come to see me on this big day, to usher me into the next phase of life?
But there was no sign of the alpha male among the proud parents, the smirking siblings. There was no dark, looming figure, no gleam of blue eyes, no raffishly ruffled hair. Among the chattering crowds, there was no huge, masculine frame, ready to catch me up into an embrace, or even to share an awkward hug. I was alone, just like always.
So heart heavy, I turned within myself. Slowly but surely, my mind shuttered as I consciously tried to block out thoughts of Tristan and our wild weekend, to focus on the life ahead. There was no sense in mooning over the impossible. I’m an eighteen year-old girl with the world at my feet, a ton of opportunities, about to enter the most exciting phase of my life. So why wasn’t I more excited?
Because despite the happy smiles, the perfect clothes and sassy figure, life has gone dim. The fact is that I still crave Tristan, miss Mr. Marks so much that my bones ache, and every night alone in my dorm bed is a painful reminder of what we had, his big frame loving me, owning me completely. Those blue eyes saw deep into my soul, and I really thought we had a connection. But clearly, that’s not true. I was nothing more than a dust mite to the big man, a fun weekend fling with a nubile female body, and although reality hurts, life has to move on. There’s no other way.