Daddy Issues

For this tale, I am going way back to when I was very young and recently graduated from university. It was a few months since my encounter with Tom, the rock star - the first man to make me come and show me that sex could be wild and fantastic. Armed with a new-found confidence, I started dating guys, but realised most of the time sex was like how it had been with my first boyfriend. They either wanted to be so gentle with me, I got bored and faked an orgasm so it would finish, or they would be only concerned with their own pleasure, and didn’t care that I laid there silently after minimal foreplay, while they pumped away at me.

When I was on my own I would get myself off by thinking about Tom. How abandoned he’d made me, so much so I’d called him ‘Daddy’, which I’d found really weird afterwards because I certainly did not want to think of my dad in that way! But I think I’d got carried away with the fact Tom was so in control of my body and even though he was quite rough with me, he’d still wanted to make sure I got pleasure too. It was a lot of live up to I supposed, and I was beginning to think the ecstasy I felt that night was something I’d never experience again.

I left college and wanted to become a journalist, but like most people, I ended up temping for a living. One of my first jobs was working for a leisure company that owned lots of casinos, nightclubs and strip-joints. I was PA to the boss, a lovely elderly Italian man called Gino Corelli. He was from Sicily, and the rumours in the office were that he was a Mafia boss, but I found it hard to believe. He always treated me like a granddaughter, buying me little cupcakes at the end of the week; and if I was a bit sad on a Monday morning because some boy had dumped me, he would sit and listen, and then tell me all about his daughters, and their trials and tribulations as young girls, but how they’d overcome it and found suitable husbands.

Then the unthinkable happened. Gino had a stroke, and his wife made him go back to Italy to retire. No one knew who was going to take over the company. All Gino’s daughters were married with families of their own and he had no sons. Then we were told his nephew Rocco was coming in to take over. I had no idea what he was going to be like, but the agency I worked for told me he expected me to stay on, so at least that was something.

I turned up on the Monday morning, wondering what I was going to find. It was a hot summer’s day, and I was wearing a little sundress. I thought nothing of it. Gino had been such a gentleman, I could have turned up in a bikini and I don’t think he would have noticed. I’d forgotten there was now a young man in charge.

I walked into the office and found Rocco standing at the filing cabinet, rifling through it. I only saw him from behind. He had dark hair that fell to the nape of his neck. He wore a tight-fitting white shirt that showed off his broad shoulders and narrow waist, as the shirt was tucked into his dark brown suit trousers. His legs were long and his backside was well-defined. He was so hot form the back, I just hoped when he turned around he was ugly, otherwise working with him would be so difficult.

He turned around and my heart sank. He was fucking gorgeous. He was just my type, like a young Al Pacino, all dark eyes and high cheekbones and angry pout. He had a sort of lived in look and I guessed he was in his thirties. His shirt was unbuttoned to mid-chest, showing a light smattering of hair on golden skin. I could see he had well-defined pecs, and my fanny fluttered.

“Who are you?” he asked. I was shocked. I’d been expecting a sexy Italian accent, but he had a regional English accent. It sounded northern.

“Dixie, I was your uncle’s PA.”

He looked me up and down, as though he could see through my flimsy dress and I had never felt so self-conscious.

“I’m Rocco,” he said. He shut the filing cabinet and walked to his desk, fiddling with his cufflinks as his went. His fingers were long and his nails finely cut. I imagined them delving inside me, stretching me open so he could fuck me…

“So what did you do for Uncle Gino, then?” he asked.

“Nottingham!” I blurted out, like someone with Tourette’s. I sat down, feeling like the biggest idiot on earth.

“What?” he asked.

“You’re from Nottingham, I recognise the accent. I had a friend from uni who was from Nottingham.”

“Very perceptive of you. Now, can you go out and get me some breakfast? And when you come back, can you sort that filing cabinet out. There’s stuff in there that I expect is older than you.”

That gave me a little thrill and I wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was because it meant he’d noticed me and in his head tried to work out how old I was.

“What do you want me to do with it all?” I asked.

“Burn it as far as I’m concerned. I don’t know how Uncle Gino ran things, but I’m going to do a bit of streamlining.”

Rocco caused all sorts of different feelings in me. I spent all day with him in that relatively small office. There were times when I was at the filing cabinet, trying my hardest not to bend over too much because my dress was short. I could feel his eyes on me while he berated various clients down the phone. Every pore of his body oozed alpha male, and on a primal level, I found this thrilling, but by the same token, I found his arrogance and pomposity extremely annoying. Half of me wanted him to fuck me senseless, the other half would be quite glad to never see him again.

By the time five o’clock came, I felt emotionally drained and wanted to go home, but when I came back from the bathroom, Rocco was sitting there with a bottle of Bells and two glasses on the table.

“Have a drink with me,” he said. “We haven’t had a chance to talk much.”

I wanted to refuse. He had a cheek assuming I had no plans. I also had to factor that alcohol loosened my inhibitions, and he looked mighty fine, sitting there with his tight shirt gaping open, giving a glimpse of his muscular chest. I knew if I worked for someone I fancied, I’d find it so hard to say no to them.

“Okay,” I said with a sigh, letting him know I was doing this under sufferance. I sat down and he poured me a glass of whiskey. I decided to sip it to avoid getting drunk.

“So, tell me about yourself,” he said. Even his gruff accent was sexy. It was such a contrast to the expensive Italian mob boss look he had going down.

““Er, I’m twenty two. I graduated from the University of North London last year.”

“What did you study?”

“English and History. I want to be a journalist eventually.”

“Where are you from?”

“Camden.”

“No, I mean your family. You’re very exotic.”

His words caused my belly to flutter, and I hated myself for it. He had no right to comment on my looks.

“My mum is mixed race. My granddad is from Trinidad. My dad’s English.”

“You’re very pretty.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m glad of it because I’m going to need you for things.”

The shock must have shown on my face because for the first time Rocco laughed. His entire face changed. His brown eyes softened and he looked younger and gentler, and I wondered if it reflected the nice person that was hiding in there, or it was just a trick of the light.

“Nothing like that. Uncle Gino kept things ticking over, I want to expand things, which will mean socialising and I need someone who looks good on my arm.”

“Haven’t you got a wife for that?”

“I’m divorced. I need someone who looks good and has a brain. Like tomorrow night, I’m meeting with this bloke called Darren James. I want to buy a couple of his clubs and I want you to come with me.”

“Am I going to be paid?”

He gave a throaty laugh, a few strands of hair fell onto his forehead and he pushed them back. I imagined him all messed up and sweaty…..

“You’re funny,” he said. “Time and a half, paid in cash. And wear something that shows your figure off.”

“It’s a business meeting.”

“In a gentleman’s club. I don’t want you turning up looking like a nun.”

“Well I’ll need to buy something new.”

He got his wallet from his back pocket and took two fifty pound notes out. He threw them across the desk at me.

“That’s all the cash I have on me. Hundred quid’s more than enough for someone like you.”

“Are you saying I’m cheap?”

He drained his drink and poured us both another one.

“No, I’m saying you’re stunning and could make any cheap tat look good.” He was paying me a compliment, but it still sounded as though he was annoyed with me, and it was the most arousing thing I’d encountered in a long time.

“I suppose I should have asked if your boyfriend would be alright with it.”

“I haven’t got a one and even if I did, I could do what I want.”

“So do you live with your parents then?”

“My flatmate, Will. He’s gay. He might have plans for us tomorrow night.”

He fixed those dark eyes on me. The softness had gone and he looked mean again.

“Tell him you’re working.”

***

I didn’t need to buy a dress for the meeting. I had a wardrobe full of lovely clothes. I’d just wanted Rocco to pay out seeing as he’d sprung this on me. And it was the twenty first century, what sort of boss had the right to tell his female PA what to wear just to look attractive in a place where women were treated as commodities?

I spent the hundred pounds on some face cream, an expensive shower gel and a take away and two bottles of wine for me and Will. We stuffed our faces with Thai food and got drunk. Will was a bit down because he was an actor and he’d been rejected for his latest audition, and I was fed up because my little comfortable world of work had been disrupted by Rocco Correlli.

“What’s he look like?” Will asked as we sat together finishing the second bottle of Pinot Noir.

“Rocco? He’s about five ten, well-built, sort of broad shoulders, slim waist. Dark hair that he sort of slicks back like he’s some Italian gangster.”

“Good looking.”

“Fucking gorgeous. Looks like a young Al Pacino. He rarely smiles. When he does he looks like an angel, so I think that’s why he snarls most of the time.”

“And you want to fuck him?”

I laughed out loud.

“How did you know?”

“Because he sounds like a total daddy.”

I looked at Will.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh my God! You haven’t got a daddy fetish? So many girls I know have.”

“There was one…..a guy I slept with. In the throes of passion I called him Daddy. I felt weird about it for a week afterwards.”

“No, it’s a thing. My friend Karen read in Cosmopolitan that it’s nothing to do with wanting to have sex with your dad. It’s this primal urge in all women to be with a domineering man.”

“I’m not into all that BDSM shit.”

“No, not like that. Okay, let’s imagine a scenario. Think of Rocco….”

That wasn’t hard to do, to be honest, especially now I was drunk and a bit horny.

“Okay,” I said, closing my eyes. My brain immediately recalled the moment he smiled and looked so pretty…..then the sight of his manly chest. Oh my god, why was I doing this to myself?

“Right,” said Will. “Imagine going for a meal with him.”

I opened my eyes and looked at Will.

“A meal? I thought we were talking about sex.”

“Just bear with me. You go for a meal with him, who orders?”

“He does.”

“Who pays?”

“He does.”

“Who drives the car home?”

“He does.”

“Who tells you he’s going to fuck you when you get home?”

“He does.”

“See it’s not the same as BDSM. It’s more like a sort of old-fashioned relationship where the woman is a bit weak and pathetic and the man takes control.”

I closed my eyes once more and thought of that night with Tom. How I’d loved him controlling my body and the situation, and yet not once had I felt submissive, it had just felt right.

“I see what you mean. But Rocco likes it when I stand up to him, too.”

“It’s all a power play. So, are you going to fuck him?”

“Certainly not, he’s a prick.”

“But a gorgeous prick?”

“He’s actually probably got a gorgeous prick!”

We both laughed out loud and finished the rest of the wine.

I went to bed that night still thinking about what Will had said. He was right, I didn’t want to be tied up in bed or spanked or anything like that. But I did have to admit, the thought of a man telling me exactly what he was going to do to me - and that included giving me pleasure -and just doing it, was really exciting. I was too tired to masturbate, but I did have a dirty dream. Rocco was fucking me from behind, up against the window of his office, pushing my naked body up against the cold glass, so all the people walking past could see us. I came violently and woke up shaking.

Before I got to the office the next morning, I got a text from Rocco saying he wouldn’t be in today and that I should meet him at Malevolence in Leicester Square at seven p.m. that evening. I was a little disappointed that I wouldn’t be seeing him today, but at least I could get on with my work without him distracting me or demanding things of me.

I finished work at five thirty and got changed in Rocco’s office. I’d brought with me a dress I’d only worn once before, at a party, and I wasn’t even sure if I liked it, but it seemed sort of fitting for tonight. It was midnight blue velvet, strapless and fitted like a second skin. I put on a pair of strappy heels, wore my hair loose and made sure I put on plenty of red lipstick, to make me feel a bit assertive. I wanted Rocco to think I looked totally fuckable but at the same time I didn’t want him thinking I was some sort of pathetic pushover.

Malevolence was a strip club near to the Hippodrome. As I entered the doors, I could hear Closer by Nine Inch Nails playing. It was one of my favourite songs. Me being me, I couldn’t resist a song about fucking someone like an animal!

I went downstairs and stepped into the main club. It was dark and illuminated only by red and green lights. It was already busy, and around the poles, girls in various states of undress were gyrating for the pleasure of the blokes who were no doubt on stag nights or had come for after-work drinks. I looked around for Rocco and couldn’t find him.

“Dixie?”

I looked round. He was walking towards me. Only Rocco could carry off a black and white striped shirt, open to the middle of the chest, tucked into black suit trousers A gold St Christopher hung around his neck, and the red light above glinted off the thick gold bracelet on his left wrist. He was such a fucking poseur, but he looked amazing, like he owned the place.

“Hi Rocco,” I said, trying not to remember my dream.

Those dark, unblinking eyes looked even more sinister in this red, hellish light, and as they wandered up and down me appreciatively, I felt myself become wet.

“You look fantastic, come on.”

I followed him through the club to a smaller section that I presumed was reserved for VIPs. There were a few velvet-lined booths, and an unused pole in the middle of the floor that I presumed was for girls giving private dances. As I followed him, I found my eyes wandering down to his thighs. As he walked, I could see how muscular they were. I bet he looked amazing naked.

He led me to a booth, where there was a man waiting for us. He looked like a body builder – overly muscular and bald. Rocco introduced us. This was Darren, and he and Rocco got down to business. I sat there feeling like a spart part. Nothing more than eye candy. But I did like the way Darren seemed a little bit afraid of Rocco, even though he was so much bigger than him. Rocco reminded me of Bruce, my nan’s Staffordshire Bull Terrier. He wasn’t that big, but he was strong, and he had the ability to ability to intimidate the biggest of dogs and make them roll onto their backs and submit - just by being a badass.

The meeting finished, with Darren agreeing to sell Rocco his clubs. He left, but Rocco asked if I wanted to stay for a while. I said I would - after all, I’d made such an effort to look good. He went off to the bar and got us a bottle of champagne without even asking me what I wanted to drink. He sat opposite me and poured me a large glass. Even though he’d got his way this evening, he still had that angry expression on his face.

“You didn’t really need me tonight,” I dared to say. “You did all the negotiating yourself.”

“It’s a power thing. I knew he’d come alone. His wife looks like a fucking bulldog, but he works for her old man, so he dare not bring a bit on the side. I wanted a beautiful woman on my arm, so I was better than him.”

I wanted to argue with him but I couldn’t breathe. He had the ability to make me feel like a stupid, dumb little woman and yet the most desirable person in the world at the same time. It fucked with my brain, but I wanted him so badly.

“Do you think you’d be up for doing this more often?” he asked. “Seeing as we work in hospitality.”

“Yes of course.”

“Great.” He picked up his jacket, and from the inside pocket, he took out a brown envelope and passed it to me.

“Your wages for tonight.”

“Thanks.” I finished my champagne and decided it was time for me to go. A part of me felt disappointed, I’d hoped when we were alone he’d start flirting with me or trying it on, or something, but he was as cold as ever. I wasn’t even sure he fancied me. He appreciated my looks, but that didn’t mean he wanted to fuck me.

“I’d better be going,” I said. “Work tomorrow.”

“Yeah, I’ll see you into a cab.”

We left the club and walked out onto Charing Cross Road. Because it was Tuesday, it was quiet apart from a few tourists and homeless people shuffling along clutching their sleeping blankets. Rocco lit a cigarette, while I put the envelope with the money into my handbag. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a boy in hoodie appeared and made a grab for my bag. He caught me off guard and snatched it out of my hand, running off. I froze, only able to call after him, but Rocco sprang into action. Those sturdy thighs propelling him at speed. Within moments he’d grabbed the mugger. He grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and punched him in the face so hard, I could hear the impact from here, and all the while Rocco’s cigarette remained in his lips. He was so fucking hardcore. I practically orgasmed on the spot.

He took my bag back off the boy, who was now clutching his jaw and shouting out that he was going to call the police. Rocco strutted back towards me, fag still in mouth, hair slightly out of place. I would have happily laid on the pavement and opened my legs for him to say thank you.

“There you go,” he said, passing me my bag.

“Thank you, I don’t know how to repay you.”

He finally took the cigarette from his mouth, exhaling a huge plume of smoke.

“Just make sure you’re in nice and early tomorrow morning.” He spotted a cab coming and stuck his hand out. The taxi ground to a halt beside us.

I turned to Rocco and smiled.

“See you tomorrow then.” I hoped he’d kiss me, but instead he just passed the cabby a £20 note.

“Take good care of her,” he said to him.

I couldn’t sleep that night. I felt shaken by being mugged, but mostly I couldn’t stop thinking about the moment Rocco punched the mugger. He did it without fear. The mugger could have had a knife or a gun or anything, but Rocco had just gone for it, for me. No man had ever done something like that for me before. Most guys these days figured girls could protect themselves, and it was true. But Will was right, Rocco appealed so some primal part of me that I wasn’t even fond of. He was like a caveman and his brutality turned me on so much I ended up masturbating, and as I reached orgasm all I could imagine was Rocco throwing me down on the ground, ripping off my knickers and taking me, roughly and without feeling. What a bad feminist I was.

***

The next morning at work, Rocco asked me if I was okay, and then nothing else was mentioned about the night before, except that when he didn’t realise I was looking, I would stare at the red marks on his knuckles and that vision of him punching the guy returned, causing me to become a little wet.

He left early that afternoon as he was going to a boxing club he owned, over in Mile End. I didn’t like it when he wasn’t in the office and that disturbed me. I didn’t really have a checklist for the ideal boyfriend, but Rocco certainly didn’t have many of the qualities I looked for. He didn’t treat me as an equal, he was arrogant and rarely laughed at anything. But I couldn’t stop thinking about him. Maybe it was his coldness towards me that turned me on. The mixed messages played with my mind, the way he complimented me all the time on my looks, but never acted upon it. They did say the biggest sex organ in the body was the brain, and Rocco had already fucked mine.

Just as I was about to leave for the day, he text me and asked if I could bring his wallet over to the boxing club as he’d accidentally left it in his desk drawer. This was another thing that annoyed me about him, this assumption I had no life except working for him. But even so, I called a cab and went over to East London.

When I got to the gym, I was expecting to find Rocco in the middle of a meeting, but the elderly man in the scruffy little office near the entrance said Rocco was in the ring with Bernie, the manager. The mere thought of Rocco boxing was enough to make me wet, but nothing could prepare me for the sight that awaited me. Rocco was in the ring with a older man, sparring. He was wearing a tight black vest and black shorts. He had his back to me, and all I could focus on were his muscular arms and broad shoulders, and the agile way he was moving around the ring. To my utter mortification, I let out a really loud groan, which I swiftly covered by pretending to cough. He stopped what he was doing and turned to face me. The view from the front was even better. The tight vest showed the contours of his pecs, and his narrow waist, and his thighs were strong and…oh God how was I supposed to speak?

“Hi ya, Dixie,” he said. “I’ll be with you in a minute.”

I had to look away. I was so turned on it was painful. I went over to the row of seats in the corner and picked up a copy of Men’s Health that someone had left on the seat next to me. I flicked through it, not taking anything in, only aware of what Rocco was doing. I heard him jump down from the ring and I looked up to find him walking towards me. I tried to avert my eyes from his body, and that lock of hair that was falling over his eyes.

“Thanks for bringing that over,” he said, putting his boxing glove to his mouth and biting the lace to loosen it. I returned to the magazine, pretending to find something really interesting.

“What’s the matter?” he said. “Cat got your tongue?”

“No, I er…just have a sore throat.”

“There’s a kitchen though there, make yourself a cup of tea.”

I wanted to scream that I didn’t want a cup of tea. I wanted him to throw me on the floor and fuck me senseless.

“Okay,” I said, sloping off to the little kitchen at the back. I then realised he was behind me.

“You’re not still upset about last night, are you?” he asked. “That mugger is long gone.”

He afforded me a golden opportunity to put my GCSE Drama to good use. I thought about when my cat Fluffy got run over when I was nine, and it did it’s usual trick of making me burst out crying.

“I was just so scared,” I sobbed. “I was so grateful you were there.”

It worked a dream. I heard him take the other boxing glove off and throw it to the floor. He turned me around and pulled me to him, holding me close to his hard, sweaty body. I wrapped my arms around his slim waist and didn’t let go. I then realised I could feel him getting hard against my belly. I pulled away and looked at him. Those beautiful brown eyes were looking at my lips. He moved forward and kissed me. Despite being a brute, his kiss was tender. He reached up and grasped the back of my neck, pulling me closer, kissing me deeper, his tongue probing and entwining with mine. I couldn’t stop myself. I stroked his back, feeing the muscles moving. I wanted him inside me so badly.

His mouth moved to my neck, his stubble scratching me but feeling exquisite at the same time. His left hand reached up under my t-shirt and he ran his thumb across my hard nipple, causing me to gasp and push myself further against him.

“Please fuck me,” I whispered, all my longing come out of me.

He took my hand and pulled me into a cupboard at the back of the kitchen. The light was out but it smelt as though it was where they kept the buckets and cleaning things. But I didn’t care. I just wanted Rocco to fuck me. He pushed me against the wall and kicked the door shut. He switched on the light, and I could see on his face how turned on he was. He kissed me again, wrapping one arm around me, holding me close, and with the other, he pushed up my skirt and pulled down my panties. I helped him off with them and stood back up, opening my legs slightly so he could touch me. He kissed me again whilst probing my swollen wet pussy with his big fingers. He rubbed my clit and made me moan. It got too much. I pulled away from his mouth, resting my head on his shoulder, so I could pant down his ear. I felt him push his fingers inside me, stretching me, preparing me. I was so close to coming, I had to try and slow myself down. I wanted to come with him inside me.

“I want you in me,” I moaned down his ear. I hadn’t felt this sort of desire since Tom. Rocco stepped back a little and pulled his boxer shorts down. I caught a glimpse of his big, hard cock, before he grabbed my left leg and wrapped it around his hip. He opened his legs slightly to gain purchase and I felt him enter me. I moaned and opened my legs wider. He took my right thigh and lifted it up, so both my legs were wrapped around his hips as he banged me violently against the wall. He was so strong, it was like I was weightless to him. I held onto him, grinding my hips against his. The pleasure was unbearable. I clutched his hair with one hand and the other gripped his shoulders, digging my nails into him. I was coming. I didn’t think I’d ever come with another man again.

“Don’t stop!” I cried. “Please don’t stop, that’s so good.”

He went harder and faster and I came, the waves of pleasure causing me to cry out down his ear as I clung onto him, my head resting on his shoulder. I felt him start to fuck me even harder as he moaned down my ear, his body tensed and with a cry, he came. We remained in the same spot for a few moments, breathing heavily, clinging onto one another. Eventually Rocco let go of my legs and my feet fell to the floor. He pulled away and looked at me. The anger had left his face. He looked soft and almost vulnerable and I couldn’t help myself. I kissed him, even though I had no idea what was going to happen now,

“Do you wanna come home with me?” he asked.

“Yes!” I gasped eagerly. He smiled and pulled me to him, kissing me again. He surprised me in how tender his kisses were. I’d expected him to be brutish. I was also relieved that he didn’t think me some sort of slut for sleeping with him after only knowing him a couple of days.

“I’ll just go and have a quick shower,” he said. “Don’t go anywhere.”

I waited for him in the kitchen, wondering what was going to happen now. He was my boss, and I’d crossed a line. If I had any sense I’d leave my job to avoid any awkwardness, but I knew that would never happen. I couldn’t leave him alone. I felt closer to him when we were fucking than I ever had anyone else. I couldn’t even explain it to myself, but the feeling was addictive. I wanted him to make me feel like that again.

He came back into the kitchen looking like ‘Rocco’ again, in his white fitted shirt and black trousers. His hair all slicked back again and his sunglasses on.

“Let’s go,” he said.

He drove me home in his vintage Jag, not saying very much. I truly had no idea what was going to happen when we got back to his place. The anticipation excited me, but there was also trepidation. What if he’d had second thoughts and he was taking me home to tell me I was sacked for being a slut. Rocco was a very traditional man, and I imagined he had certain ideas about women, especially the ones who fucked men they barely knew.

His flat in Pimlico was very much a bachelor pad – all leather sofas, state of the art equipment and barely any personal affects. He told me to sit on the sofa while he made us drinks. I still found myself saying very little, which was surprising for me because I’d always been told I could talk for England. But he made me feel nervous. Not that he was going to hurt me in anyway, just that I wanted him to be impressed with me and I didn’t want to talk for the sake of it and end up saying something stupid.

He brought our drinks over and sat beside me. I drank my whiskey down quickly to relax my nerves, aware that Rocco was watching me.

“I like you, Dixie,” he suddenly said.

“Thank you.”

“No, I mean I really like you. I know I boss you around, but that’s just my way.”

“I like you too.” I meant it. He was domineering and annoying, but I couldn’t help myself. “This afternoon, it’s not something I do, just sleep with people.”

“Have you had a lot of boyfriends?”

“A few. Today, with you, when I came. Well, you’re only the second person who’s made me do that.”

He couldn’t help but smile proudly at this.

“I can make you come again if you want…”

Just him saying this made my nipples harden and I became wet. He stood up and held out his hand. I took it and he pulled me up and led me to his bedroom. Like the living room, it was very masculine and the main thing I noticed was the doors to the fitted wardrobe, next to the bed, were all mirrors. I felt self-conscious that I would be able to see myself making love.

Rocco held me by the top of my arms and began kissing my neck, running the tip of his tongue over the sensitive skin at the base of my throat. He then helped me off with my t-shirt. He took the straps of my bra down and I pulled my arms out. He lowered each cup so my boobs were exposed. He’d be able to see just by how hard my nipples were, that he was turning me on. He took my right nipple into his mouth, sucking it, flicking his tongue over the sensitive tip. Every sensation I felt, I felt in my pussy too, making my clit swell and my wetness to run down my thighs. I cried out in pleasure and he moved to the other breast and did the same thing.

“That’s so good,” I moaned. “Fuck me. Make me come again.”

He let go of my nipple and stood back up, reaching round and undoing my bra. He then took hold of the waistband of my skirt and pulled it down along with my panties, so I was naked. I looked down and saw he was tenting in his trousers. He was really turned on too, why couldn’t he just fuck me, like I wanted him to?

He lay me down on the bed and lay beside me. He lent over and started kissing my belly, dipping his tongue in my belly button, then moved back up, taking my nipple in his teeth and gently nipping it, making me squeal with delight.

He sat up and took his shirt off, pulling it over his head. His muscled chest was a sight to behold. His gold St Christopher nestling below his collar bone, just above the smatter of hair in the middle of his chest. His nipples were small and pink and hard and I wanted to touch them, but when I tried to lift my hand to stroke him, he took my wrist and put it back down on the bed.

He ran his hand down the inside of my thighs. He must have felt how wet I was for him. He moved round and came between my legs. He lowered his head and I closed my eyes and felt him start to lick me. I moaned and grasped the bedcovers, feeling I would fall off the bed somehow if I didn’t hold onto something.

Rocco stopped licking me and instead put his finger into my sopping wet pussy. I opened my eyes as he then took the finger out, raising his head and making a show of sucking the finger that had just been inside me. He then lowered his mouth and began to lick the area between my vagina and my arsehole. No one had ever touched me there. I’d never even touched myself there. The feeling was out of this world, and every time he flickered his tongue over it, I felt myself getting wetter and wetter. He then put his tongue inside my vagina, licking around the sensitive opening. I could feel the pressure mounting. I was going to come before long

He moved back up to my clit and started to lick. I looked over and caught sight of our reflection in the mirror. Me naked, my coffee coloured skin shiny with sweat, my dark nipples hard, my legs wide open, and the only visible part of Rocco was his head moving as he sucked my clit. It was so fucking sexy. I was going, I could feel it. I reached down and grasped his hair to keep him in place. He groaned and it resonated against my pussy. I closed my eyes and let myself go. I came, my legs involuntarily wrapping themselves around his shoulders. I let go of his hair and clawed at the sheet, my hips bucking with every wave of ecstasy that flowed through me, until I was spent.

Rocco got off the bed and practically ripped his trousers and underpants off. He was well-endowed, his cock at least eight inches long, his balls big. He was such an alpha male. He climbed back on the bed and lay on top of me. I opened my legs wide for him and he entered me. I watched in the mirror at the two of us. I saw Rocco bend one of his legs slightly so he could thrust deeper. It felt as though he was filling my whole body.

I reached up and stroked his damp hair, then the muscles on his back as they moved, then I grasped his hard backside, feeling it moving back and forth as he thrust in me. It was all too much and I could feel myself coming again.

“Harder,” I moaned. I closed my eyes and a vision of him punching that mugger came into my mind, it then melded into him in that boxing ring, strutting around in that black vest, looking like a king. “Fuck me hard Daddy! I yelled. “Fuck me hard, like a bad girl!”

“Jesus Christ,” he groaned, fucking me harder, ramming me into the bed until I came again. He buried his head in my shoulder, his body buckling.

“Fucking hell Dixie!” he cried out and he fell on top of me. Our sweaty bodies collapsed in a heap, stuck together, and all I could think about was how he’d shouted my name when he came. No man had ever done that before.

“You’ve got daddy issues then?” he chuckled.

I opened my eyes and looked at him. His head was on my shoulder. He looked soft and pretty again.

“Oh my God, I didn’t call you Daddy, did I?”

“You said you’d been a bad girl.”

“What an idiot?”

“Are you kidding? It sent me over the edge. Ain’t a man on earth who doesn’t want to be called Daddy in bed.”

With that, he drifted off to sleep while I held him. He was still between my legs, and his hands were buried in my hair. Sex with him had been amazing. I loved the feeing of totally abandoning myself to someone, and it helped even more that I had deep feelings for Rocco and he did for me. That extra level of connection made it even more special. He had this way of making me feel vulnerable and yet like a goddess at the same time. It was confusing, but it turned me on so much.

We slept for a while, and when I woke up, Rocco was sitting on the edge of the bed lighting a cigarette. He pushed his hair off his face and looked at me and smiled.

“Shall we have some food? I’m starving.”

“Sure, I’m pretty hungry too. That was quite a work out. Can I freshen up in your bathroom?”

“Yeah course, it’s just through there.”

While he fixed us some food, I had a quick shower in the en-suite. As I dried myself, I noticed a love bite on the side of my neck. I’d never had one before, and just seeing how Rocco had left his mark on me, turned me on again.

I put the robe on that was hanging behind the door and went to the kitchen. Rocco had dressed again, and for the first time ever I saw him in jeans, which he wore with a white vest. Seeing his body aroused me even more now I knew what he felt like. He was standing at the sink, draining something, the steam rising up and masking his gorgeous face.

He’d put a bottle of white wine on the tale and I sat at it and poured myself a glass.

“So, who was your first?” he asked.

“My boyfriend, Dave. We were at uni together. I was a bit of dork then and I just wanted to lose it. So did he. It was terrible. Neither of us knew what we were doing and it never improved. We split up, then I spent the night with my brother’s friend who’s in a band. He was the first person I ever came with. I thought it would always be like that from then on, but I’ve dated a couple of guys and it’s pretty much been how it was with Dave. Until today.”

Rocco laughed and went to the fridge.

“You just need a man who knows what he’s doing.”

He served me a bowl of spaghetti with parmesan that was so big, I couldn’t finish it, even though he was encouraging me to because I’d need my strength. This excited me and I wondered what he had planned for me.

We ate and chatted normally. He told me how he was one of seven children and the only boy. He also tod me that he’d been a tearaway as a teenager and had spent some time in a Young Offender’s Institution for getting into fights and stealing cars. I should have been appalled but I found him wildly exciting. Like any woman, I got turned on by a bad boy, and he looked so fucking hot in that tight white t-shirt, his hair loose and floppy. I didn’t realise I’d been staring at him until he gave me an evil smile and got off his chair. He knelt before me and undid the dressing gown and it fell open. He leaned forward and started kissing my neck, his hands reaching into his gown and squeezing my boobs, pressing his thumbs into my hard nipples, making me moan.

He stood up and pulled me up with him. I dared to undress him, pulling his vest over his head. I caressed his chest, making him moan lowly as I stroked his nipples. He undid his jeans and took my hand, putting it on his hard cock. Instinctively I began moving my fingers up and down it, enjoying how it felt. Rocco bit his lip and swallowed hard. He then turned me around and sat on the chair, pulling me on top of him. I pushed him deep inside me and it felt as though he was filing my entire body. I moved up and down, holding onto the back of the chair and kissing him.

Soon I found my rhythm, grinding my pelvis against his, moving it in a circular motion so my clit was rubbing against him. Soon, I had to give myself over to the pleasure, arching my back and letting my hair fall down. Rocco grabbed it, holding onto it as he bucked his hips into mine. He then let go of my hair and pulled me to him, holding me close to him, his fingernails digging into my backside. His head fell back, his mouth open, his eyes tightly shut. I could feel him losing control beneath me. With a roar, he came, still holding onto me for dear life.

I had never felt so close to another human being in my whole life. I raised my head and looked at him. His face was partially obscured by his hair, his eyes heavy and tired. I loved him. I don’t know how I knew it because I’d never loved a man before, but I did. I couldn’t describe it, but I felt like if I didn’t have Rocco in my life, or I was away from him for more than a minute, I would die.

He smiled and stroked my hair off my face.

“Let’s go to bed,” he said. “You’ve knackered me.”

I slept the whole night in his arms. He lay behind me, encased in his strong arms, his body pressed against me. I felt so safe and protected. Will was right, he was a Daddy. I was perfectly happy with my real dad, but this was different with Rocco. His aggression and dominance appealed to something primal in me. He made me not feel in control and that excited me wildly, and yet when we made love, there were moments when he seemed vulnerable and almost at my mercy, and that was such a turn on.

I woke up the next morning still in his arms. His hard, morning glory was pressed against my back, but I couldn’t even think about sex when my bladder was so full. I managed to pull away from him and get out of bed. He rolled onto his back, his cock proudly standing to attention. He pushed his hair out his eyes and looked up at me.

“Where you off to?” he asked.

“Bathroom. My bladder is about to burst.”

“Hurry back, the bed will get cold.”

I came back to bed and we made love again. For the first time, we were both naked, and the feeling of our bodies so close, moving as one was like a wonderful revelation. I realised that sex and making love were two different things. You could have sex with anyone, but making love was something shared when there was emotions involved, somehow it was more beautiful.

“Let’s take the day off work,” he said.

“Won’t people talk?”

“I don’t care.” He started kissing my neck making me purr with pleasure. “I want to spend the day exploring you. Far more interesting than spending the day talking to boring blokes about nightclubs. Come on, let’s have a bath.”

He ran us a warm, soapy bath in the big tub in the main bathroom. We sat either end, but I could see by the look in Rocco’s eyes what he was thinking about. He picked up a bar of soap and passed it to me.

“Wash yourself,” he said quietly.

“Are you saying I’m dirty?”

“No, I want to see you touch yourself and bring yourself off.”

“I’ve never….not in front of anyone….”

“You’ve got a beautiful body, I want to see you pleasure yourself. If it helps, close your eyes, pretend you’re on your own.”

I felt so self conscious as I took the soap and lathered my hands. I closed my eyes and washed my arms and neck. I opened my eyes and Rocco smiled, his eyes wandering to my boobs, as my nipples were just above the water. I closed my eyes again, and ran my hands across them, and despite my nerves, they hardened and tingled at my touch.

As if I were alone, I pinched them and made myself groan, lightly scratching my nails across them. The pleasure reached my pussy and I felt my clit swell. I opened my eyes and the look of excitement on Rocco’s face spurred me on. I slipped my hand between my legs and slipped my fingers inside myself, but I realised Rocco couldn’t see what I was doing. I lifted myself up and sat on the edge of the bath, resting each foot either side, so I was wide open to him. I leaned back on one side, and with the other I rubbed my clit in slow circular strokes, squeezing it between my fingers, making myself moan. I could hear Rocco breathing heavily and it turned me on even more. I soon felt myself reaching the point of no return. I leaned back against the sink behind the bath, so I could rub my nipple with one hand and frig myself off with the other. I came, my last clear thought was being what Rocco could see from his end, my pussy pulsating, the fluid running out that often did when I was really excited.

After I came, I slipped into the water. Rocco reached out and pulled me to him. He was so hard, his cock was bobbing above the water. With ease he flipped me round, so I was face down over the edge of the bath. He held me round the waist with one arm and rammed himself inside me. He was rough with me, holding me down by my hair, pushing my face into the side of the bath as he fucked me violently.

“Dirty girl,” he hissed. “Dirty filthy girl, doing that in front of me.”

“Sorry Daddy,” I moaned. “Sorry. Oh my God!” I came again as Rocco let go of my hair and covered my body with his, thrusting his full length into me. He moaned loudly and collapsed on top of me.

“I think I love you,” he said. I couldn’t believe he felt the same way as me. No one had ever been in love with me before.

“I love you too,” I replied.

He pulled away from me and got out of the bath. He held out his hand and helped me out. He took a towel from the heated rail and wrapped it around me. He kissed me tenderly and dried me gently. A contrast to how roughly he’d just fucked me. He kissed me and I decided I wanted to show him how much I loved him, despite only knowing him a few days.

I pulled away and kissed his chest and his neck.

“I want to make love to you,” I said.

“Feel free,” he chuckled. I pulled away and looked at him. “No, I want you to teach me. I’ve only ever done it a couple of times, and it wasn’t that good. My mouth gets dry.”

Realising what I wanted to do, Rocco picked up another towel and quickly dried himself, before taking my hands and leading me back to the bedroom. He laid back on the bed and I knelt before him. He was semi-hard already – clearly excited at the thought of a blow job.

“What do you want me to do?” I asked.

“Do what you would normally do.”

I grasped the base of his cock and descended upon him, taking as much of him into my mouth as I could. He hardened quickly, and I felt like I was going to gag as it pushed against the back of my throat. No one had ever taught me how to do it properly. All I did was what I’d seen in porn films, where girls sucked hard on a dick, moving their heads up and down.

“You can take your time, you know,” he said. “Imagine it’s an ice cream cone. How would you eat that?”

I giggled and held onto the base of his cock, paying more attention to the head. He’d told me to treat it as I would an ice cream, so I licked it. He gasped and clutched the bedsheets. This boosted my confidence a little, so I became more elaborate, alternating between sucking him and licking him. Teasing the sensitive glans with the tip of my tongue, loving it when I felt the drop of precum spurt out. I let go of his cock gripped his muscular legs, stroking the sensitive skin in his inner thighs, while I worked his cock with tongue. I knew I was doing well by the groans of delight that were coming from him.

“Stroke my balls,” he moaned.

No one had ever asked me to do this before. For a moment I stopped sucking him and concentrated on his balls, wise enough not to be too rough with him because men were sensitive there. I lightly cupped them in my hand, stroking the wrinkled skin. In a rare act of abandonment, Rocco cried out loudly and writhed, his knuckles white as he gripped the covers. For the first time ever, I was so turned on doing this, my mouth was actually watering. I held onto his balls while I took him back into my mouth, this time instinctively sucking hard and fast. His hips started to move. I looked at him and seeing him reduced to this quivering, moaning wreck gave me one of the biggest thrills of my life. He was usually so in control but I could have literally done anything to him right now.

“I’m gonna come!” he cried.

His body tensed and I felt his spunk shoot down my throat in spurts. I was so turned on, I had no choice but to reach down and finger myself for relief. Rocco looked at me with hooded, tired eyes.

“Come ‘ere,” he growled.

I did as he said and climbed back up and lay beside him. He put his hand on my pussy and rubbed my clit, doing it slowly and in circular motions as he’d seen me do. I begged him to go faster but he teased me but keeping the same pace. The most delicious tension built in me and he gradually responded, pressing harder and rubbing quicker. I came, clinging onto him and burying my head in his shoulder, screaming down his ear in ecstasy. Once I’d calmed down, he pulled the sheet over us and held me in his arms.

“I think we need a nap,” he yawned.

“Whatever you say, Daddy,” I laughed.

Rocco was the first man I ever fell in love with and my first proper relationship. We were together for three years, and he taught me nearly everything I knew about sex. I realised I loved the power play of sex, of being dominated and then dominating in turn. But outside of the bedroom Rocco’s domineering ways began to wear thin. I grew in confidence and finally got a job on a magazine, doing the things I wanted to do, while Rocco got involved with the wrong people and made some dodgy decisions and went to prison for fraud. We split up shortly afterwards and I was heartbroken and started sleeping around and going out with men I didn’t like very much.

I heard that once Rocco came out of prison he went back to Nottingham to get away from the temptations of London. I guessed he probably ended up getting married. A man like him wouldn’t be single for long. I began to wonder if I would ever find love again, so decided to make the most of great sex until it did, and thanks to Rocco, I’d learnt to enjoy my body.