Page 6 of Daddy Brigadier

Perhaps Robert has sent me another gift.

I grip her hips as she subtly leans back against me. Pressing my nose against her neck, I breathe in the sweet fragrance of her hair, reminiscent of ripe berries. An intense urge to taste her overwhelms me, and I forcefully tug at her hair, my hand coming up to cradle her jaw until she’s looking up at me.

Our eyes lock for a moment before she closes them, as if she’s offering herself to me. Leaning down, my lips pluck gently at hers. “Aren’t you a pretty little thing?” I say softly against her mouth.

There’s something inherently sexy about the way her tongue barely peeks out to meet my lips. Her body against mine sendsa hot, sharp spark of electricity through my veins. I’m already leaking precum with a pressing need to be inside her.

I turn her around, guiding her backward until her back hits the cold metal wall. Grabbing the coffee cup from her hand, I throw it on the ground before lifting her arm above her head, one hand clasping both of her wrists.

“What I want to do to you right now,” I whisper, running my nose along her neck.

My hand glides down the hem of her dress, slipping beneath the fabric, my fingertip tracing the soft skin of her inner thigh. “You like that, don’t you?”

She rotates her hips, purposely grinding against my cock. A soft whimper escapes her lips as she lifts her gaze to meet mine. She’s playing a dangerous game, one that could result in unpredictable consequences. Lucky for her, I like playing games.

However, she should be aware that I don’t lose. Ever.

Just as I’m pushing my fingers underneath her lace panties, the elevator begins to slow, nearing the lobby. I shake my head to clear the haze in which I’m caught up. Reluctantly, I pull myself away from her, swallowing every nerve on alert as silence hangs in the air.

She steps away, smoothing out her dress. Her feet shift uneasily, and she stares at the ground. Her chest rises and falls with each deep breath, the pace of them a silent testament to her inner turmoil. No, she’s certainly not a gift from Robert.

Unlike his interns, she captivates my interest in a way that leaves me both intrigued and cautious. Her presence is wrapped in an air of mystery and danger.

I want to fuck this girl.

Claim her.

Own her.

So, who the fuck is she?

As the elevator doors begin to open, my hand glides behind my back, fingers curling around the cool grip of my gun. With a deliberate motion, I release the safety, my heart pounding in sync with anticipation. Looking into the vast lobby, I find it eerily silent and empty. To my relief, no one is waiting there to kill me. I carefully re-engage the safety on my weapon.

As she moves forward to exit, I quickly reach out to halt the closing doors. With a hopeful grin, I ask, “Maybe we could grab coffee sometime?”

She turns to face me, her ankles crossed, hands clasped behind her back. An aura of innocence surrounds her, accentuated by the way her wide eyes blink, almost pleading for me to shatter her purity. “I’d like that.”

As the elevator door starts to close, I urgently call out, “Where can I find you?”

Just before the doors seal shut, a slow, dangerous smile curves her mouth. Her words are low and sweet. “Oh, don’t worry. I’ll find you, Daddy Brigadier.”

CHAPTER TWO

VALENTIN

“Dad.” My son’s hand lands on my arm. When my eyes flicker down, he removes it immediately. “Sorry, Brigadier,” he mumbles. “You were off in your head somewhere.”

He’s not wrong. I keep finding myself daydreaming about a girl who appeared to be so innocent, almost like a precious gift. However, with just a subtle smile, her demeanor shifted into something dark and unsettling.What does she want from me?

The only thing I know for sure about my little Krasotka, my gorgeous—it’s the name I’ve given her since I don’t know her real one—is that my cock has been rock hard ever since she rubbed her fine little ass up against it. No matter how often I wrap my hand around it and soak my fingers in my own cum, my desire to be inside her remains insatiable.

Daniel clears his throat, a telltale sign he’s about to bring up something I’d rather avoid talking about. “So, I got the paperwork today.”

I nod, sensing the tension in the air between us as I prepare for what seems to be an impending complaint.

“But,” he says, sighing and sounding ungrateful all of a sudden.

I just made him a billionaire with a stroke of my pen. So, what could he possibly have to complain about?