Call me daddy.

“Um… do you mind telling me where you’re taking me?” Isabella asked the young man as they stepped out of the club.

The night cast a mysterious glow over the man’s sharp features, making him look almost unreal.

With a slow, knowing smirk, he caught Isabella’s hand and brushed his lips against her skin, his touch featherlight yet intoxicating.

“I want you to trust me,” he murmured, his voice a silken promise.

His long lashes fluttered, shadowing the intensity in his gaze as he held her captive in the moment.

Isabella nervously bit her lip, her head nodding almost involuntarily, as if caught under a spell she didn’t quite understand.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his voice rich and velvety, laced with quiet dominance.

With effortless control, he guided her across the street toward a sleek black Ford, its tinted windows reflecting the glow of the city lights.

‘Whoa, he must be loaded,‘ Isabella thought as she watched him start the engine and glide effortlessly through the city streets.

The low hum of the car, smooth and powerful, only added to the air of mystery surrounding him.

Minutes later, he pulled up in front of a nearby hotel, the golden lights reflecting off the sleek black paint of his car.

Without a word, he stepped out, rounding the vehicle with an easy confidence.

As he reached for the door handle, Isabella’s heart pounded—whether from nerves or anticipation, she wasn’t sure.

Isabella stepped out, barely observing her surroundings before he took her hand again, his grip firm yet smooth, guiding her toward the hotel’s entrance.

He didn’t stop at the reception desk, didn’t even glance at the receptionist.

He walked with the ease of a man who already owned the space—or at least had everything arranged in advance.

That realization sent a shiver down Isabella’s spine. He had planned this.

Inside the elevator, silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken tension.

Isabella stole a glance at him, but his expression remained unreadable, his presence commanding even in stillness.

‘I hope I would enjoy myself tonight.’ She mused within herself.

As the elevator door slid open, he took her hand once more, leading her down the quiet hallway.

Stopping in front of a suite, he pulled out a sleek black card and swiped it effortlessly.

The lock clicked, and the door swung open, revealing a lavish hotel room bathed in warm, golden light—luxurious, sophisticated, and undeniably intimate.

“Are you over eighteen?” the man asked, his voice smooth yet unreadable.

Isabella hesitated for a fraction of a second before nodding. “Yes.”

A hint of amusement flickered in his eyes.

“How old are you?” she asked, her voice quieter than she intended.

The man scoffed, his fingers effortlessly working open the buttons of his crisp white shirt. “I’m in my late thirties,” he said casually, a knowing smile tugging at his lips.

Isabella’s eyes widened as she sucked in a sharp breath.

Late thirties? He looked far too young for that—she had pegged him at early thirties at most.

Yet, as the fabric of his shirt parted, revealing toned skin beneath, Isabella realised there was an undeniable maturity to him, something refined and dangerously compelling.

Inhaling!

She took a deep breath, her gaze following the fluid motion of his hands as he slipped off his shirt and let it fall carelessly to the floor.

His toned chest and sculpted shoulders hinted at a strength that only added to his mysterious allure.

Without a word, he strode toward the bed and sat down, his legs stretching out against the crisp sheets.

His eyes lifted to meet hers, dark and unreadable, silently daring her to take the next step.

“I want you to pleasure yourself.” He ordered.

Isabella frowned.

Isabella’s heart raced, her thoughts tumbling over themselves. She’s a virgin and had never been in this situation before.

She had only ever experienced pleasure in the privacy of her own thoughts, alone, where no one could see.

“I… I can’t pleasure myself in front of you,” she stammered, her voice trembling as she instinctively crossed her arms over her chest, biting down on her lower lip, her eyes avoiding his intense gaze.

The young man scoffed softly, rising from the bed with a smooth, predatory grace.

He closed the space between them, his presence overwhelming as he stood directly in front of her.

Without a word, his hands moved to the hem of her white belly shirt, lifting it with deliberate slowness, as though savoring each moment.

He guided it over her head, his touch gentle yet commanding.

Isabella’s instincts screamed to stop him, yet a strange mix of curiosity and anticipation fluttered deep within her.

She couldn’t bring herself to pull away—something about the moment felt too compelling, too raw to resist.

As the man tossed Isabella's shirt onto the ground, he smiled warmly, observing her small perfect boobs that were being covered by a pair of black bras.

“Have you ever pleasured yourself before?” He asked, and she nodded her head.

There was something about this mysterious man that made Isabella feel compelled to answer whatever question he threw at her.

“Can you pleasure yourself?” He asked, and she bite into her upper lips, using her hands to cover her boobs while nodding her head.

The man sighed softly, his hands resting gently on Isabella’s shoulders.

He leaned in, his face near her neck, his breath warm against her skin.

“I want you to be yourself and feel free with me, okay?” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “I promise I won’t push you, and I won’t do anything to hurt you.” He added, his tone reassuring, as if trying to ease any tension she might feel.

Isabella nodded slowly, and with that, he leaned away from her neck as he lowered his face towards her boobs. “I promise to give you a treat if you behave yourself.” He whispered, his breath warm against the skin of her breasts, making her knees go weak as she swallowed hard, her breath caught in her throat.

“I… I’ll try and act freely,” Isabella mumbled, her words prompting the handsome man in front of her to straighten his back and moisten his lips, his hands delving into his trouser pockets. “Now, pleasure yourself!” He commanded his words leaving no room for negotiation.

“Umm… before I start, what should I call you?” she questioned, her voice low and husky.

His lips curved into a devilish smirk as he replied, “Call me Daddy, and I’ll treat you like the sweet little princess you deserve to be.”