All Chapters of Touch Me, Daddy: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

It’s happening. I’m torturing the man who ruined my dad’s career; the man who stole his purpose away and left him in that threadbare janitor’s jumpsuit.Ansel Carson is my arch nemesis, the source of all evil in my world, and I’m enjoying this. I am.Gusting out a heavy sigh, I flick a paperclip. For once, Mr. Carson is not here yet, and I’m eager to make him miserable.That’s what this weird longing is. I’m sure of it.Inside that office, the boss’s desk is huge and clean and obsessively orderly. Everything is in its proper place, and when he spreads papers out on his desk, he keeps them perfectly parallel to the desk’s edge.I’ve taken great care to make my own desk as chaotic as possible. There’s a Venus flytrap in a bright pink pot; a smattering of colored sharpies; a squeaky stress ball in the shape of the little green one from Monsters Inc. Post-its curl against my computer monitor, and I’ve made tiny heaps of jumbled paperclips.My jacket dangles off the back of my chair, one s

There are dozens of urgent tasks waiting for me back at the office, but out here in the sunshine, I’m struggling to care. It’s the height of summer, and the city park is full of laughing kids and sunbathing students spread out on picnic blankets. The trill of bicycle bells cuts through the hum of the crowd, and businessmen with loosened ties and rolled sleeves chat together on wooden benches.Nearby, a cluster of food trucks scent the air with garlic and spice. Sitting with Philomena on the stone lip of a fountain, I think this might be paradise.“Oh my god.” Her eyes flutter closed with each huge bite of falafel. There’s a glob of hummus on her chin. “Holy shit. I want to die like this, Ansel. I’m serious. Bury me in a falafel wrap.”It’s the first time she’s called me by my first name. I shift against the curved stone wall, trying to convince myself that it’s not a big deal.Cool mist from the fountain tickles the back of my neck. The sun beats down, hot and harsh, but the breeze fl

So, I’m sneaking around with the boss.Over the last week, we’ve made out against every flat surface in the penthouse office, and dragged each other into a few supply cupboards on the lower floors too. Ansel’s desk chair has stopped squeaking every time I climb onto his lap, the poor thing squished into submission, and we’ve fogged up the elevator mirrors most days.It’s delicious. He’s so freaking hot and stern with everyone else, but he goes all melty just for me. When he tells me to close his office door and get over there, arms already spread as he bosses me around in that deep voice—I just about die.And despite being a literal genius, he thinks the sun shines out of my ass. Seriously, if I drew Ansel a wobbly stick figure, he’d probably display it on the staff refrigerator. It’s awesome.No one’s noticed the new tension simmering between us as we walk through the Ignis halls. They’re not the tiniest bit suspicious—not even Angelica from legal. Should I be offended by that?It’s

Oof. A wave of heat crackles through me, singing my insides, and my hand trembles as I draw his cock out into the air. The thought of it—my handsome, stern boss turning me into a red-faced mess on his office floor, using me for his own pleasure—“You like this already.” His deep voice is rich with approval, his thumbs stroking through my hair. “Oh, Philomena, you look so perfect on your knees.” Humor lightens his tone. “Maybe you should crawl when you bring me my coffee.”“Shut up, Mr. Carson.” But I’m too distracted to get mad. His shaft is long and thick and impressive, weighing heavily against my palm, and my jaw aches just looking at it. When I grip him gently, dragging my hand down his length, Ansel lets out a soft hiss.“Harder.”Ooh-kay. I squeeze him tighter; make my grip a little mean. Ansel’s hips buck an inch off the desk.“Yeah. Christ. Just like that.” His whole body is tense, his thighs rock hard beneath his dark pants. I stroke him again, reveling in the way he jerks an

Head pounding, I check Philomena’s joining date, then run through a mental tally of everything that has gone wrong lately. The small disasters, throwing us off course every day; the rat sightings and broken elevator. The way it felt like she hated me at first, her teeth clenched behind every smile. Even the damn coffee.Christ, I… I feel sick. And as the room spins around me, my heartbeat loud in my ears, the office door swings open.“Got your note,” Philomena calls, her steps bouncy as she heads for me. She’s in that green dress again, the same one from her first day, and her wide smile seems real. Is everything between us a lie?No. No.I’m jumping to conclusions. I’m—I’m overtired and paranoid, and there will be an explanation for this. There must be.She’s my Philomena. She is.“You look like shit,” my assistant says when she reaches my side, tousling my hair with a frown. Her touch is so soft, her concern so real, and I want nothing more than to bury my face in her stomach. For h