Tycoon Daddy Read online

  Tycoon Daddy

  Call Me Daddy – Book 1

  Bianca James

  About the Author

  I write wickedly hot, steamy romance stories that will leave you gasping. Yes, they are a little over the top, but there’s nothing like a quick, dirty read about an alpha male or a sinful, forbidden relationship to spice up the day, is there? If you like your romance scorching hot and very, very naughty, then my stories are for you!

  Join my readers group to be notified of special offers and hot new releases.

  Copyright © 2018 Bianca James. All rights reserved.

  Chapter 1

  You know that sick feeling you get when you realize you’ve made a huge mistake after something’s gone terribly wrong? That twisting in the pit of your stomach like you’re going to throw up and you break out in a cold sweat, while you’re burning up inside? Well, that was me. I closed my eyes in the hope that it would all go away. I wanted another chance. I wanted to make a different decision. A way smarter decision.

  “Please give me another chance,” I begged nobody in particular.

  No, everything was still the same when I opened my eyes. Seriously, I nearly did throw up, for sure. I didn’t care who was watching. All I could see was the horrendous damage to my boss’s car. His pride and joy—a shiny, fresh off the boat from England, Aston Martin DBS Superleggera—was worth at least $300,000, all day long. Being some kind of international tycoon apparently means you can spend more money on a car than some people spend on a home.

  Now, before I go any further, I should tell you that my boss is a nice enough guy, as far as bosses go, but he’s, well … kind of particular about some things and super strict when it comes to certain rules. His car is one of those ‘things’ he’s particular about and me not driving it, ever, is one of ‘those’ rules. That’s the way it’s been ever since I started work for him, running his palatial home and trying to manage his brats…did I say that out loud? I meant well-adjusted and delightful children who live with him every second weekend.

  But I only borrowed the car because I had a real emergency. Seriously. It was a major situation and the car my boss bought for me to use for errands was in the shop. No, not the service shop, the repair shop. But that’s another story and that wasn’t my fault, either!

  Anyway, back to the emergency—that fancy boutique at the Mall called to tell me that the new skirt I’d ordered had come in and I could collect it as soon as I was ready.

  Ready? I couldn’t have been more ready!

  I’d been waiting forever for that cute little number and I couldn’t wait to get into it before Logan, I mean Mr. Kane got home from work. I know he’s too old for me, but a girl can dream, can’t she? And a little flirtation is harmless, right?

  Mr. Kane is a hunk and a half. He keeps in great shape working out at the gym at 5am each morning and he runs at least 5 miles each evening. Sometimes I just happen to be passing by after his run when he takes his shirt off, so I can catch a glimpse of the sweat shining on his chiseled abs and matting the light dusting of hair between his bulging pecs.

  But he always seems to ignore me. I feel like I’m invisible most of the time when I’m around him. I don’t think he even knows I exist. Okay, I’m way younger than him, but I’m pretty in my own way and I always look good because I like to dress up and look my best for him. Maybe it’s because I’m so petite? He might think I’m more his daughters age, which I’m not, I might add.

  Who knows? All I knew for sure was that there was no way he could ignore me once he caught a glimpse of me in my new, short, tight, sexy little number. No way.

  So that was my dilemma. I had a Mall emergency or skirt emergency, whatever you want to call it and I had no way to get there. My boss’s car was parked in the garage and he was away on business for the day, so he wouldn’t be driving it himself. Oh, and did I mention I needed that new skirt, like right now?

  I’d driven Mom’s Honda plenty of times. How hard could it be to drive Mr. Kane’s Aston Martin a few miles to the Mall? As it turned out, it wasn’t that hard at all. If I say so myself, I did a dang fine job of it, too. Kept to the speed limit. Parked perfectly within the lines in the busy Mall car park. Managed to navigate home without causing a pile up on the freeway. I think all of that good luck made me overconfident. I was nearly home and I thought nothing could possibly go wrong now that I was back in familiar territory and home was around the next corner. I was so wrong.

  That final turn into our driveway, of all places, was where I should have been paying more attention instead of being in such a rush to get the car back in the garage. And what was that concrete and brick letterbox pillar doing so close to the driveway, anyway? Which bonehead had the bright idea to put it right there, in my way? Of course, it didn’t help that I was barely able to see over the steering wheel. I always wear sexy high heels so I don’t look so short, but there’s no hiding your stature when you’re behind the wheel.

  As soon as I heard the unmistakable clunk of metal against brick and saw the top of the fender crumpling like something out of a Wylie Coyote cartoon, I knew I was in trouble. Big trouble.

  Slowly, as if moving slowly would kick start some kind of ‘James Bond, Department Q’ self-repairing of the previously immaculate Aston, I got out of the car and walked to the front where I saw, to my horror, that the once pristine black fender was now a crumpled ruin.

  “Shit!” I stamped my foot in frustration as tears started to burn the backs of my eyes. I didn’t know what to do.

  And that’s when I heard it. A faint buzzing sound like and an electric motor. I looked up and saw the security camera swiveling to get a better look at me. And the car.

  Shit!

  I didn’t know what to do. I was like a deer in the headlights. Frozen in time waiting for the inevitable.

  After what felt like an eternity but was probably more like only a few minutes, I turned around when I heard the hydraulic whir of the gates to the estate opening. And there he stood, his face dark with anger and his hands balled into fists.

  “What are you doing home?” I asked, not knowing what else to say. I thought it was a fair question, too because he shouldn’t be there. He wasn’t due home for hour yet.

  “Never mind what I’m doing, Megan, what do you think you’re doing and who gave you permission to drive my car?”

  “I had an emergency.” I tried to sound confident and stared him down.

  “Emergency?” he fumed. He face reddened and I swear I could see stem puffing from his ears. “What kind of emergency? A chipped nail that needed an emergency buff and polish at the local Princess Nail Salon?” His head wobbled condescendingly as he spoke.

  “No. It was really important. I didn’t have any choice.” I knew I wasn’t going to be able to bluff my astute tycoon of a boss, but I refused to back down and give in to him. I’ve never been the submissive type.

  “So, a medical emergency, then? No time to call the paramedics, just steal the nearest Aston Martin you can find and race to the emergency room? That kind of emergency?”

  All I could do was glare at him. I really had no comeback for that line of questioning. Of course, my head was brimming with smart one liners later that night, but right at that minute? Nothing.

  “Even if you were coughing up a lung, you’d have no right to even sit in my car, never mind get behind the wheel and smashing the shit out it.”

  “Smashing?” My mouth fell open as I said it. “It’s just a scratch. A bit of polish and it’ll look as good as new.”

  We both looked at the crumpled fender and shook our heads in unison. It clearly wasn’t going to be that easy. My shoulders slumped in defeat.

  I’ll be working until I’m 90 to pay to fix this. I knew his insurance wouldn
’t cover me driving the car and even if it did, the deductible had to be worth a year of my salary, maybe more.

  I was screwed. And definitely not in a good way.

  “What are you doing home so early, anyway?” I tried to change the subject.

  “You can thank the Chinese for that. Sneaky bastards tried to screw me over on a deal. I told them to shove it, grabbed my legal team and left them sitting at the negotiating table. Let them try to explain that to their superiors back home.”

  Perfect. All that effort and I wouldn’t even get to show off my new skirt for the boss. He’s going to fire me for sure. At least if the damn Chinese had behaved themselves I could have just reported the car as stolen and played dumb about the damage.

  I didn’t know what to do or say. I wanted the earth to open up and swallow me whole. I wanted to start over from the time the boutique called me. But it didn’t really matter what I wanted. I was in a world of trouble.

  My lip quivered as the tears started to well.

  “So, what was the big emergency, anyway?” his tone softened a little in response to the tears running down my cheeks.

  “Skirt,” was all I could say without sobbing like a total loser.

  “Sorry, I missed that. It sounded almost like ‘skirt’.”

  I nodded. “Yeah, skirt. The boutique called and I –”

  Mr. Kane held up his hand. “Wait, you’re telling me you stole my three hundred thousand dollar car so you could go to the Mall and pick up a skirt?”

  When he said it like that, I guess it did sound kind of lame. “I didn’t think anyone would know and I wanted to look nice for …”

  Cody waited for me to continue. “Go on,” he coaxed. “Look nice for …?”

  I looked down at my feet, too embarrassed to look my stepbrother in the eyes. He just stood there glaring at me, demanding an answer.

  “You,” I finally managed to squeeze the name past the lump in my throat.

  “Me? Are you shitting me?”

  All I could do was nod weakly. Grounded for a year. Humiliated beyond belief. Kill me now.

  “There’s a way out of this, you know,” Mr. Kane said gently as he quirked his eyebrow and moved toward me.

  “No way! Are you crazy? That’s just weird.” I struggled to find the words. “You’re my boss. We live in the same house together. It’s just wrong. My God!” Even I almost believed what was coming out of my mouth, even though I didn’t mean a single word of it.

  “So you’d rather work for the next ten years without pay to cover the repair costs?”

  I had to think on that for a nanosecond. No way.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to go all nuts on you. You took me by surprise, that’s all. I had no idea you even thought about me like that? You haven’t paid any attention to me and I thought I was invisible to you or something.”

  A mischievous smile danced across his lips. I knew this couldn’t be good.

  “Here’s the deal, like I said before, I’ll tell the insurance company I was driving and a hit and run drove sideswiped me and sped off. I didn’t even have time to get their plate.”

  “They’ll totally buy that. Won’t they?” I asked, interrupting him.

  “As I was saying…I’ll take the responsibility so you won’t be liable for the repair costs.”

  “So tell me again what you want in return?”

  “I want you to wash and polish my car.”

  I looked at the mangled fender.

  “Not this car,” he literally rolled his eyes at me, “The Porsche.”

  “OK,” I said hesitantly, “there’s something I’m missing isn’t there?”

  “There sure is.” He smiled mischievously. “I want you in that new, sexy, tight little skirt and nothing on top but a pale, silky blouse that’ll go all see through when it gets wet. Oh, and no bra, either.”

  “So, you want some kind of sex-kitten-car-wash thing happening? Right here in your yard?”

  “You got it. I knew you were a fast learner when I hired you,” he teased.

  He’s such a typical male. Always thinking with his dick. That’s why I’ve never bothered with a real boyfriend before. Because this is the type of shit they like to do. Always thinking with the wrong head.

  I wonder how big his other head is? I found myself wondering. Maybe I’d get some idea if I could do a good enough job and get his pants tenting.

  “I’ll bring the Porsche around and you can get started.”

  “Wait … now? You want me to do it right now?” I couldn’t believe I was even having this conversation, least of all seriously thinking about going ahead with it.

  “Or I could call the insurance company instead and give them your details so they know who to set the debt recovery people onto,” he pointed to the fender damage.

  Defeated, I sighed. I knew I had no choice but to give him his little wet shirt and tight skirt car wash fantasy. Who knows? Maybe it could even be a little fun. Maybe I’ll get to tease him a little and watch him squirm and be uncomfortable. Now that would be some weird karma, wouldn’t it? Making an older man horny over a forbidden young woman.

  “And there’s one other thing you need to do while you wash the car.”

  I waited for him to go on, but he was drawing it out, like he wanted the dramatic effect or something. Finally he came out with it.

  “I want you to call me Daddy.”

  I swear my jaw dropped and hit the ground.

  Chapter 2

  “I think I’ve finished,” I called out to him. I was working in the blazing sun and he was lounging on a deck chair drinking some fancy rich people’s cocktail.

  Mr. Kane wagged a finger at me. “That’s not what we talked about. What do you say?”

  “I think I’m finished, Daddy.”

  “That’s better. Don’t make me have to remind you again,” he rebuked.

  As he stood up I couldn’t help but notice the bulge in the front of his pants. He was old enough to nearly be my father and there I was staring at the outline of his cock through the thin fabric of his pants.

  I tried to look away. I really did but I’d never seen anything like it. Certainly not from any of the guys I dated in college. Oh my God!

  He drained the last of his drink and gently placed the glass on the table before striding purposefully toward me. As he got closer all I could see was the erect penis that seemed to go on forever inside the leg of his pants.

  I knew I shouldn’t be looking, but like a car wreck, I’m drawn to it, despite knowing it was wrong. I had no idea he was so … well, big. Fucking huge would be a better description. It wasn’t the first time I’d seen a guy with a hard on, but…wow!

  He stopped right in front of me. He was close that my erect nipples, from the cold water that soaked my shirt, brushed against his muscled chest.

  I felt an unfamiliar stirring. Like what I felt sometimes when I lay in bed, thinking of him, but way more intense. As ashamed as I am to admit it, I’ve touched myself down there a few times and got myself off imagining Logan running his fingertips through my juicy folds and flicking my budding little clit with his moistened fingers. I shuddered at the very thought of those explorations as I realized that I was having even more powerful urges. It made me feel lewd and shameless to think that it was my own boss, my way-too-old-for-me boss, filling me with these desires.

  It was just so wrong. He’s my boss. Which part of forbidden lust did I not understand?

  I looked up to see that he was staring at my peaked nipples poking through the silky shirt he’d asked me to wear while I washed his car. I hadn’t minded ditching the bra, as he’d insisted earlier because, deep down, I did want to flaunt it for him, just as a tease. Now I was regretting that decision. Well … maybe not.

  The he took a step back. Part of me was relieved. Another part of me was disappointed and longed for him to come closer. A lot closer. As if he read my mind, he removed his shirt, revealing his well-muscled shoulders and abs that just cried out
to be touched to see if they’re real. He’s one sculptured and cut piece of eye candy, that’s for sure. No wonder he’s the star attraction with the mom’s where his kids go to school. Not a grey hair on his chest and muscles like a guy half is age. Which is what he’d have to be before I could have anything to do with him. Then again…

  Even if he wasn’t my boss, he was way out of my league. He’s some kind of tycoon, doing big deals all over the world and talking dollar figures in the millions. He’s mega rich. Devilishly handsome. Did I mention he was rich? What was I even thinking? Why was I so turned on by him? I’d only ever fantasized about him before and maybe flirted a little. I never expected him to look at me like that. Yet he was looking at me like he wanted to eat me alive. And I liked that look. I mean really liked it.

  He stepped in, fisted a handful of my golden hair and made me look him in the eye.

  “I know what you’re thinking.” It was a statement not a question.

  I didn’t know how to reply to that.

  “What do you say?” he commanded.

  “Yes, Daddy,” I purred.

  The primal lust that blazed in his eyes and the pulsing I felt against my belly from his hardness told me those were the words he wanted to hear.

  “You and I both know what you want.” Again it was a statement of fact.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I responded, coyly as I lowered my eyes to look directly at his bulging pecs before my gaze fell to the line of fine hair that traced a vertical path from his firm, flat tummy down into … his pants.

  He closed the gap and took my face firmly in his hands before crushing his mouth over mine. I tried to keep my lips closed but he’d caught me by surprise, or so I told myself, then my lips part hungrily as he plundered my mouth with his. There was nothing tender about his kiss. It was possessive and greedy, like he was claiming me as his prize. A warrior tasting the spoils of his conquest. My resolve wavered as he kissed me more hungrily and I began to surrender to him, allowing his tongue to explore me even more deeply.