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-014-

Author: The Book Magician
last update publish date: 2026-04-30 01:16:33
~*JUNE*~

As I step toward the glass doors, they slide open like a mouth waiting to swallow me whole.

I cross the lobby and make my way to my desk, settling into the chair.

It’s more luxurious than my old one, bigger, sleeker, but it feels empty. Lonely.

There’s no one to talk to.

The only person around is a security guard at the far end, slumped in his chair with his chin on his chest, never missing a chance to sleep on the job.

I pull out my phone and stare at the messages I don’t want to read.
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  • Make Me Yours, Daddy   -018-

    ~*JUNE*~Well, this is inconvenient.It’s Monday… again.The weekend slipped by in a blur, and now the weight of the workweek settles over me like a heavy, damp blanket.I wish every day could be a weekend.Mondays are the worst.It’s not just that work starts again—it’s the crowded roads, the frantic energy of the city, and the relentless traffic that makes everything feel like a race I’m already losing.I almost arrived late today.The narrow miss leaves my heart hammering against my ribs.I really need to start getting up earlier to catch the train or the bus.Using cabs every time is becoming far too expensive, and I need to be strict with my savings for my new apartment.Ugh… life as an adult is exhausting.Nobody warns you about the constant, grinding pressure of just existing when you finally grow up, the way the bills stack up, the way sleep becomes a luxury, the way your back hurts for no reason and your patience runs thin, and yet you still have to show up every single day a

  • Make Me Yours, Daddy   -017-

    ~*JUNE*~I can’t catch a fucking break.My life feels like a living hell.Now I don’t just have to deal with my crazy boss, I also have to deal with my ex who won’t stop calling me.The past week has been nothing but stress, and Andrew just won’t stop calling.No matter how many times I block his number, he always finds a way around it, using new numbers, private calls, and sending endless messages.My phone has become a constant source of noise.It vibrates, lights up, drags me out of whatever fragile peace I manage to find.There’s no quiet anymore. No break.Even today, which is a weekend and my one chance to claw back the sleep I’ve lost to this exhausting week—the one time I should be able to sleep in, breathe, and forget everything for a few hours—my phone on the nightstand is buzzing like a trapped hornet.It started before the sun was even fully up.At first, I ignored it, burying my face deeper into the pillow, hoping it would stop, hoping Andrew would finally get the message.

  • Make Me Yours, Daddy   -016-

    ~*JUNE*~I blink at Mr. Macaulay, like a confused owl that’s just been smacked in the face with a fish.Are my ears playing tricks on me, or did he really just ask me that?At this point, I am absolutely certain this insufferable excuse for a man has finally lost his damn mind.Something in that overpriced British skull of his has snapped. Melted. Completely short-circuited.No sane human being asks their secretary, before nine in the morning, whether she enjoyed watching him get… his cock sucked."Didn't you?" he repeats, that infuriating smirk spreading slowly across his face.God… I want to wipe it off his face. No—smack it clean off.I really want nothing more than to grab the folder on the desk in front of him and bring it down on his head—again and again—until that smirk fractures and crumbles like cheap plaster.But I can’t actually do that, can I?I just stand there in silence, my jaw working like I’m chewing on glass.He looks up at me like he’s expecting me to say an answer.

  • Make Me Yours, Daddy   -015-

    —•TRISTAN•—When I hear June’s voice, I almost dismiss it as another trick of my mind—but it sounds too vivid, too real.I’ve replayed her voice in my head a hundred times before, yet none of them have ever come close to this.I snap my head toward the door, and my body freezes.June is standing in my office doorway. Her hand is still on the door handle, her body frozen mid-step.She’s clutching a folder to her chest like a shield, her knuckles white around the edges.Her face has gone pale, drained of all colour, and her honey-brown eyes are wide as saucers, locked on me and Bianca.She looks as though someone’s just thrown a bucket of cold water over her.For one terrible, suspended moment, I don’t move.Bianca is still on her knees between my legs, my cock still in her mouth.And June… June is watching.Then instinct kicks in."Stop," I say, my voice hoarse.I shove Bianca away, pulling my cock out of her mouth with a wet sound that seems to echo in the sudden silence.Fumbling to s

  • Make Me Yours, Daddy   -014-

    ~*JUNE*~As I step toward the glass doors, they slide open like a mouth waiting to swallow me whole.I cross the lobby and make my way to my desk, settling into the chair.It’s more luxurious than my old one, bigger, sleeker, but it feels empty. Lonely.There’s no one to talk to.The only person around is a security guard at the far end, slumped in his chair with his chin on his chest, never missing a chance to sleep on the job.I pull out my phone and stare at the messages I don’t want to read."Hello, Miss June," an unfamiliar voice says.I look up.A middle-aged woman is walking toward me. Her blonde hair is pulled back so tightly it looks like it’s fighting to escape.Her blazer is pressed, her lips painted the color of a fresh wound.She stops in front of my desk and looks down at me."Good morning. My name is Sarah," she says."Good morning, Sarah."She smiles, but it’s clearly fake.Even someone blind could see through it.She extends a folder toward me, holding it between two m

  • Make Me Yours, Daddy   -013-

    ~*JUNE*~"June! Your phone is ringing!" Tyler calls from downstairs, his voice echoing through the apartment like a foghorn."I'm coming!" I shout back, my fingers fumbling with the hairbrush as I yank it through the tangles in my hair.I fling the brush onto the bed, snatch my bag, and sling it over my shoulder.My gaze flicks to the clock on the nightstand.7:25."Shit! I need to hurry."Even though I hate my job—hate being that annoying prick’s secretary with every fibre of my being—I still don’t want to be late."If you don’t come get your phone now, I swear I’m throwing it out the window!" Tyler bellows from downstairs."Relax, I’m coming!" I call back, rushing out of the room and down the stairs.My feet pound against each step until I burst into the sitting room.Tyler is draped across the couch, one hand buried in a family-sized bag of chips, crumbs scattered across his chest like a messy snowdrift.He shoves a handful into his mouth and speaks through the crunch."Your phone’s

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