Daddy's Girl: A Daddy Issues Novel by Rebel Wild (books to read for 13 year olds .TXT) 📕

her. Just the thought of having her untouched, tight as fuck pussy molded perfectly around my cock makes it unbearably hard.

“Foxy, Foxy, Foxy, you are going to be worth the wait.”

Chapter Eleven

My alarm goes off and I groan at the annoyingly rude sound. I set it for six a.m., but it feels like I just got into bed. I wish I could shut it off and go back to sleep, but I’d be risking the wrath of Mr. Garrett. I try to avoid that as much as possible. The sitting area in the corner of my room catches my eye. Clothes have already been laid out there for me, so I take a quick shower before I put them on. I give extra care to my behind. I must admit that cream really does do the trick once you get past the searing pain when it’s first applied.

I put on the navy-blue bikini and the matching romper that was picked out to go on top of it. I don’t know who picked this out, but it’s exactly something I would wear swimming. I’m starting to get a little excited. Obviously, we’re heading to someplace with water that I might be allowed to get in. I brush my hair out and hurry downstairs as not to be late. No point in pissing him off with my disrespect for time. I want to stay in Mr. Garrett’s reward lane as much as possible. I see Joe waiting in the great room.

“There she is,” he says to me.

“Morning.” I look around for Bree.

“She’s at her mom’s,” Joe tells me. “Come on, Tristan’s already waiting. You’ll have breakfast with him.”

“Great,” I say.

I look out the window like a tourist trying to find some clue to where we’re going since Joe won’t tell me anything. We arrive at LAX and Joe pulls up to a private tarmac. He grabs my two large carry-on bags and escorts me to an impressive jet that reads Prater Charters. My excitement escalates. Where in the world could we possibly be going in a private jet?

I enter the jet where Mr. Garrett’s already seated.

“Ah,” he says when he sees me. He puts down his coffee cup and stands to receive me from Joe. “Sydney, please join me for breakfast.”

I nearly fall over from shock. Where is the one-word demand? And what’s with this “Sydney” stuff? I look around the cabin and see the cause of his sudden show of manners. An attendant is waiting in the wings to serve us. Now, I have no clue how to act. Do I bow my head like I’m supposed to, or do I act like a girlfriend? Why didn’t he prepare me for this? Well, he’s standing up for me, so I pick gentleman friend.

“Yes, of course,” I tell him, meekly. Judging by his grin, I must have picked right.

“You crazy kids have fun,” Joe says before almost running away from us.

“Our flight’s delayed for an hour,” he tells me before ordering an array of breakfast items for us to indulge in.

The cabin is roomy, but even so, we’re close to one another. He keeps leaning into my space, but I don’t even try to scoot away. I’m too excited to even care. We separate for the brief moment it takes for the attendant to serve us our food.

Feeling satisfied with breakfast, I’m ready to get the show on the road. I really want to know what this reward is. It must be big if we’re flying to it.

“You’re doing very well,” he tells me, as I look out the window to see if whatever it is that has us delayed is clearing.

“Thank you, sir,” I say, turning to face him.

“Relax. You may speak a little freer when in public.”

“Okay,” I tell him, dramatically relaxing in my seat.

“But don’t forget your place.”

“No, sir,” I say, tensing again.

Finally, we’re in the air. I really want to know where we’re going. Mr. Garrett is busy on a business call so I can’t ask him. Not that I would anyway. The moment I think I can’t stand it another minute we land. Seconds later, I’m being ushered into a waiting SUV.

The darkened windows are up, but I can still see the beauty of our surroundings as he drives. He makes a sharp right turn and once we pass a security gate, the windows come down. Fresh, salty air blows across my face from the lush greenery of the small two-lane road we’re on. We come to a clearing and up ahead, a large two-story Hampton-style home sits right off the water.

“Wow.” I let the word slip.

This place makes the one in Beverly Hills look like a trailer.

He gives me a brief tour, then leaves me in my room to get settled. The few clothes that were packed for me look pitiful all alone in the massive closet.

“Wow,” I say again as I open my room’s patio door and see the view of the ocean. The breeze is cool with a sweet fragrance coming from the beautiful rose garden below.

“You’re pleased with your reward?” He asks, coming in to join me.

“Yes, sir,” I tell him. “But where are we?”

“Carmel-by-the-Sea. It’s always been a retreat for me, and I hope you’ll find it just as enjoyable.”

“I already do. Thank you for my reward, sir.”

He hands me the square black box that he’s holding. I look at him, and he nods his permission for me to open it. I’m grinning, wondering what it might be. It’s been so long since I’ve gotten an actual present and this one is wrapped so nicely—I can’t even imagine what it is. I lift the lid and pull back the delicate white paper to reveal a thin-strapped, leather black collar with a tiny silver bell in the center.

Shock and horror fight for time on my face. This looks like what you’d put on a cat so you can