Take Me, Daddy

Chapter 1: When Everything Changes

ANNABEL

Fuck you, Mark! Fuck you!

I cursed under my breath as I walked underneath the rain, tears streaming down my eyes, my mascara running wild across my cheeks. I felt like my world was about to tear apart—shredded into a million fucking pieces.

Mark had broken up with me—or rather, had I broken up with him? I had caught him banging another girl so fucking wildly, like some unhinged animal. My screams pierced through the air while I called out his name, a desperate, pathetic symphony of betrayal.

He had said I wasn't a good rider, that I was dry as fuck, and like the naive idiot I was, I had believed him. And now? Now I had caught him balls-deep with Janet, my ex-best friend. The ultimate fuck you to everything I thought I knew.

I ran with vigorous determination, mud splashing beneath my feet, more tears streaming down my face like a volcanic breakdown. The streets of San Francisco blurred around me—a wild canvas of my pitiful state.

Living in these wildest, most notorious rural areas was nothing to write home about. Just another shit hole I couldn't wait to escape.

Just a few feet away from home, colored lights flashed in the distance—an unexpected scene which I wasn't expecting.

I walked closer, my curiosity momentarily cutting through my rage.

"What the hell is going on?" I muttered, my pace quickening with a mix of anger and intrigue.

The moment I reached home, my little brother Max came rushing out. I couldn't tell if he was crying or if it was just the raindrops cascading down his face.

"Father is dead," he choked out, his voice breaking. "He... he fell from the construction site..."

Max hugged me under the rain, and I stood still, arms wrapped around my brother's shoulders. Shock ricocheted through my body like a live wire.

"Father..." I whispered, the word barely escaping my lips.

I dragged Max inside. My mother came crashing into me, confirming the brutal reality. Yes, it was real. My father was indeed dead.

I had just seen him this morning, and now, he was gone—just like that.

One month had passed since my father's death—one month of suffocating grief and mounting desperation.

"Mother, I will be leaving. I love you so much," I said, hugging my mother with an intensity that spoke of both goodbye and hope.

"You don't have to leave, Annabel," my mother pleaded, her voice a mix of fear and maternal protection.

"I have to," I insisted, my voice sharp with determination. "When I go to the city, I will work so hard to make ends meet. I'll take both you and Max out of this hellhole to a better life."

It wasn't just words. It was a fucking promise carved into my soul. I was going to give my family a better life, even if it meant traveling to live with my father's best friend—a complete stranger who was now my only lifeline.

The house was fucking good. No, scratch that—it was beyond good. It screamed luxury so loud it could wake the dead. I couldn't tell if I was dreaming or had somehow stepped into an alternate universe, but hell, I was here.

"The master is not yet back from work; you will meet him tomorrow morning. I will take you to your room where you will be provided with anything you want," an old man said. He looked like he'd stepped out of some period drama—a butler who apparently didn't realize butlers don't exist in this modern world.

I shook the thoughts from my head. I followed the butler; two maids carried my bags as I made my way through the vast rooms. I could lose my way if I wasn't careful.

Still amazed by the craziest, most expensive designs I had ever seen—if I had ever truly seen luxury before—I walked right into my room.

My eyes widened. Shock. Disbelief. A tornado of what the fuck.

"The hell? This isn't mine. No, I can't live here."

I said, walking back, my back almost crashing into the maid standing behind me with my belongings.

The "unknown"-titled "butler gave me a weird, bored look.

"Um, this is yours, ma'am. Do you need a better place to stay? Or you don't like it here, Annabel?"

I shook my head intensely.

"No, no, um, I'm good," I said, eyes still looking around my room that could literally fit our entire house back home.

The evening descended, rain falling like it was trying to drown the world. Past eight o'clock, and the world outside looked like liquid darkness. I always loved the sound of rain, the touch of rain on my skin, even though it reminded me of unpleasant memories.

I made my way downstairs and upstairs and again, I really didn't know where I was heading but I guessed I could explore the building while at it with a fucking damn robe and wet hair.

All the doors were locked and I was increasingly growing impatient.

"Fuck, why are all the doors locked? Is this how rich people are?" I whispered, gripping the door handle with rising frustration. One sharp breath. One click. The door opened with such force it almost sent me flying across the balcony.

The heavy breeze blew through my body, causing me to shiver. I clutched my robe tightly, like my life depended on it.

"I've been waiting for you."

A voice said, which shocked my inner core. The voice was more than just a voice—a bass-thick, heavy tone that sent shivers down my skin and made my body almost crawl to the deepest part of the earth.

Instantly, like the clumsy, naive girl I was, I turned to see a figure sitting on a chair that looked like the ones I saw on TV, those that are on the beach. But whatever, what mattered was the man sitting there.

Yes, it was night, but the moon did something to his face. He wasn't just fucking drop-dead gorgeous; he was fucking shirtless with a towel wrapped calmly around his torso.

I could see the visible line of his dark torso hair going down to the darkness of his...

"Why don't you come here and grab it rather than standing there watching? Isn't that what you're supposed to do?"

My mouth went dry as I instantly stopped thinking, my head racing with so many thoughts. Who the hell was he and who the hell did he think I was?

"I said, come over here, Bambi!"

He said, this time, his voice firmer than the first, his eyes casting a dark, striking gaze toward me. Unintentionally, I found myself walking toward him like a zombie, like he was the only one there and he was the only one that mattered.

With swift motion, he dragged me toward him, and with just one fucking smooth motion, I found myself on top of him, his hand wrapped around my ass cheek, holding firmly and squeezing and kneading it like it was dough. Like the idiot I was, I found my pussy pulsing with so much... so much... desire.

I never knew I could ever feel so much current and electricity and desire and a grip of wetness around my inner thighs at the same time.

Who was this man, and what the hell was he doing to me?