Tyrant Daddy by Isabella Starling

Chapter 20

Raphael

Staying away from trouble has been fucking torture.

Every waking thought I have is about Willa. I can't get her off my mind despite doing everything in my power to distract myself. I've been working myself ragged trying to busy myself with mundane tasks just so I don't have to listen to my own voice telling me I've fucked up in my head.

I've been staying late in the office and using my bachelor pad more and more. Elise has moved back into my apartment and I can't bear to be near her. When she made a move on me the first night she moved in, I was clear with her – there wasn't going to be any physical action between us, not now, not ever.

It still feels like a betrayal to Willa, but I don't know what else to do. I owe Elise and our baby what my father never gave me, and as much as I want to fucking walk away from the whole thing and track down Willa, I know I shouldn't.

It's another late night in the office. I've tried so hard not to look up Willa, but today I'm finding it harder than ever to resist. My jaw tightens as I try and pull up her profile on Instagram, but am notified the profile's been deleted.

Fuck.

How am I supposed to keep tabs on her now?

I need to know how she's doing, need to make sure she's okay.

Hoping for the best and knowing I shouldn't be doing this, I open the sugar baby app, and quickly realize she's blocked me.

"Fuck," I mutter, setting my phone down and pouring myself a double drink. I fucking need it now that my life has imploded.

Every day, I find myself regretting everything that's happened – everything but Willa. I can't bring myself to do that, not when the weeks I spent with her were the happiest of my life. And this bittersweet feeling hurts, but it was still worth it just to hold her in my arms for as long as I did.

After pacing the office, I pick my phone back up again and delete my own profile on the sugar baby app. Then, I quickly make another one, giving myself the nickname of TyrantDaddy.

My heart quickens, hammering in my chest. I remind myself I shouldn't get involved with Willa – I should keep my distance and stay away from her, so I don't hurt her even more. And yet I can't help but set up the new profile and send her a friend request.

The request is quickly accepted, sending another pang of pain through my body. I can just imagine Willa on her phone right now, scrolling through her notifications, not even knowing this is me. I suppose that means she's back to this sugar baby thing. I wonder if she's going to New York. I wonder what's happening in her life and how much she misses me.

With a groan, I run my hands through my hair. I shouldn't be letting myself think about all this stuff. I need to put Willa behind me and stop hurting her.

But if she's in New York, she'll need money. I know how proud she is – she'd never ask Dove and Nox for help.

Hesitating for only a moment, I send an offer to her profile on the website. Five selfies of her for a thousand dollars.

My heart beats into overdrive. I shouldn't be fucking doing this, I'm only prolonging the pain that's already tearing me apart. But I can't stay away. And I tell myself as long as Willa doesn't realize I'm TyrantDaddy, everything is going to be fine. I choose to believe that lie.

The prospect of being close to her again, finding out what's going on in her life without being myself, is exciting. I miss her so much it fucking hurts, tossing and turning for hours at night wishing her warm body was wrapped around mine. I sacrificed my happiness and Willa's, too, for a kid I never wanted. Perhaps this is my punishment, a load of bad karma, for all the shitty things I've done in my lifetime.

My phone pings and I check it, realizing she's accepted the offer and already sent the first photo.

It wracks me with jealousy. Is she doing this with other people? Is she sending them photos, meeting up with them, doing things for them?

My hands form fists and I curse out loud. The thought of Willa with somebody else is painful as fuck. I force myself to push it to the back of my mind and focus on the selfie she's sent instead.

She's posing in front of a window, a billowy white curtain covering half her face. She's wearing a tank top showing off her collarbone that's jutting out and making me want to kiss it. Her eyes are trained on the camera with a shy, but knowing smile on her lips. My heart tightens. I haven't seen this photo before, and it fucking hurts to know I'm excluded from everything now, by my own choice – or because I didn't really have one.

I fight with my own conscience, knowing I shouldn't be contacting her but unable to resist. I fire off a single word as a reply to the photo.

Pretty.

Another photo lands in my inbox the next second. In this one, she's wearing a bandeau top and throwing a peace sign at the camera with her tongue sticking out of her mouth. She's standing in front of a brownstone building, her long, flowing blonde hair thrown over one shoulder, being ruffled by the rain.

She looks happy, and that hurts more than anything else. As happy as I am for her, it messes me up to know she's moved on. Judging by the background of the photo, I'm guessing she did go to New York after all. I wonder what she's doing there. Whether she's excited to attend Parsons. Whether she misses me. Whether she's already met someone new, someone else she calls Daddy.

The thought is too painful so I banish it from my mind. Instead I send another reply.

Show me more.

She doesn't reply, but a couple of minutes later I get another selfie. It's cut off above her mouth. She's holding her bottom lip down, and on the inside of her lip, the world trouble is written in black ink.

"Fucking hell." I palm the growing erection in my pants. Is it a tattoo or just something scribbled on with a marker? Either way, I'm a goner just looking at the image, because it tells me she's still thinking about me.

I want to get off so badly, but I remember I'm not even supposed to be speaking to Willa let alone getting off to her photos. But when the next one arrives, I can't resist anymore.

The fourth selfie has Willa topless, barely covering her tits, a glimpse of those pink nipples between her outstretched fingers leaving me speechless. I pull my cock out and jerk it slowly, prolonging the painful moment of having a release I shouldn't give myself.

This was a bad idea from the start. I never should have contacted her. I should have moved on with my life like she clearly has. But it seems impossible to forget Willa. She lives in my brain rent-free, claiming every waking second I have, reminding me just how fucked up my life is.

One more.

I wait for her reply to the text, and this time, the photo arrives with a message.

It's a photo of a crystal heart, silver with the crystal a light, baby pink. It's a butt plug. My heart fucking clenches as I read the words attached to the photo, imagining her sending this to other people, not giving a damn about me anymore.

Want to see it inside me?

I fight with my own conscience before replying, even though I already know there's no way in fucking hell I'm turning this down. I'm like an addict looking for his next hit – desperate for just one more glimpse into her life.

Yes.

That'll be a grand, please.

I grin to myself. She's a good negotiator, my Willa. I send the money through the app but she doesn't reply. The thought of what she's doing now drives me crazy and I pour myself another drink, leaning my forehead against the window in my office.

I know I made the right decision for both of us by breaking things off with Willa.

Watching me have a baby with a woman she hates would have wrecked my girl. And I couldn't bear tying her down to me in that situation. She deserves so much more and so much better.

And yet not having Willa at the touch of my fingertips is enough to drive me insane. I've accepted tonight I won't be able to stay away from her for good. It's just impossible. While I know me clinging on is selfish as fuck, I also know I can't force myself to break off all contact.

Willa needs someone on her side, especially if she's left for New York. I assume things aren't good with her parents, and I know when she's own her own, she sometimes doesn't make the best decisions. That's how I justify staying in touch, even though I know deep down I'm being a selfish, possessive bastard who just can't stay away.

The last photo finally arrives. Her face isn't visible in it – she's lying on a bed holding her legs up, the crystal plug glittering in her tight little ass.

I groan, bringing my cock out again. I can't fight these feelings for her. Even though I've committed to being there for Elise, she can't stop me from wanting Willa.

I already know I won't be able to touch another woman. And if I'm not able to get my dick drained, I guess I'll have to do it myself. As long as I don't blow my cover with Willa, things should be fine... at least for now.

With a groan, I palm my cock and feel it harden between my fingers, eager for a release. I haven't come since the last time with Willa, which feels like a lifetime ago. But I can't stop now – I need this release, need to dedicate this to the memory of the woman who made my heart skip a beat for her. My trouble.

My eyes remain glued to the photo as I jerk off, going faster and faster as I remember all the beautiful memories I made with Willa. Holding her, making her hot chocolate, feeling her skin for the first time. The absolute addiction I already felt after meeting her for the first time, when we couldn't be together yet.

This kind of connection is once in a lifetime. I know I'll never have anything like it again. But that's okay, because experiencing it once is better than never having it at all.

I come with a groan, spilling my pent-up load all over my fist and thinking of Willa the whole time. I don't think any other woman could make me come at this point. I'm too hooked on the girl I can never have again.

After I clean up, I take a deep breath. Tomorrow, I have to go baby shopping with Elise and I'm fucking dreading it. But I need to be the father I never had. I can't make the same mistakes that my dad made, ruining my childhood. I need to do better.

But I've realized now doing the right thing isn't quite so simple.

I know I won't be able to resist messaging Willa again. And I tell myself that's okay. Far as she knows, I'm TyrantDaddy, not the man who left her heart in tatters at her feet. And I'm going to keep it that way for ever.

Just because my life is ruined doesn't mean Willa's needs to be, too. She has decades of happiness in front of her, and I'm going to make sure she's taken care of and provided for.

Even if it fucking breaks my heart.

After all, I deserve it – and worse.