That Friday evening in early spring, I should have been happy. I was a junior in college, with excellent grades and a large circle of friends. But as Arden and I closed up the bookstore at a little after nine, I couldn't hide my despondency. Though I'd been unfailingly pleasant and helpful to customers since I'd showed up for work earlier that afternoon, I knew my boss sensed something was wrong.

Yet he waited until we were all alone in the shop, with the door securely locked. Until I looked at him and asked, "Can we talk?"

"Of course," Arden immediately replied. 

My heartbeat quickened, an insistent thrumming at the side of my neck as I followed him to his cluttered, windowless office. Just last week, he'd invited me back here after hours, for he'd discerned something was wrong then, too. While sitting next to him on the ancient couch, with books stacked precariously all around us, I'd revealed my troubles in a babbling rush.

The cause of my despair was a guy named Jackson, whom I'd lusted after for the entire semester. Arden had patiently listened as I described the way Jackson toyed with me, feeding on my hopes for an actual relationship and then withdrawing into silence for weeks on end.

"I know I'm an idiot for putting up with it," I told Arden. "And I'm sorry to waste your time over something so ridiculous."

He'd placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "I'm happy to listen and help in any way I can, Paige. Don't forget, I was your age once, too."

His tender smile and gentle patience reduced me to tears. While I blubbered and angrily wiped at my damp cheeks, Arden drew me into his arms. I ended up sitting on his lap, curled up against him. For well over half an hour, he'd stroked my hair and rocked me back and forth. I'd never felt so soothed, so... cared for. And maybe it was only wishful thinking, but I wanted to believe that time we shared meant something to him, too. 

Arden was in his early fifties, and the bookstore he owned and operated served as a passion project for him, rather than something he depended on for his livelihood. He'd made a lot of money from investing over the past decade, and he could have comfortably retired from working altogether. But he loved books and spent most of his free time reading; he'd always dreamed of owning a bookshop. I was one of several part-time employees there, and he and I often worked together. As a boss, he was the epitome of easygoing. Quick with praise, he'd revealed not long ago that he always looked forward to working alongside me. 

And I loved spending time with him. Often, I asked him for advice on personal and academic matters, because he never judged and was always thoughtful and wise in his responses. If I were totally honest with myself, I'd admit that it wasn't only his mind I was attracted to. If I had a type, Arden was it. Lean and tall, and with an open, friendly smile, he had mostly silver hair, which provided a pleasing contrast to his brilliant blue eyes. His face was somewhat lined and weathered, for he enjoyed hiking on sunny days, whatever the season. I knew he'd been married before, and he had a son who lived across the country. Sometimes, I thought he might be lonely. Maybe he also craved that physical closeness we'd shared. 

For the past week, I'd thought about that often. During a professor's lecture, I would tune out completely, instead recalling the warmth of Arden's embrace. I ached to feel it again now.

As soon as we were both settled on the couch in his office, I reached for him. When he slipped his arms around me, I pressed my face against his button-up shirt. 

"What's the matter, sweetheart?" he whispered. "I hate to see you so sad."

Tears threatened to overwhelm me. Growing bolder, hungrier, I eased onto Arden's lap. He didn't hesitate to gather me to him. Closing my eyes, I breathed in his familiar scent. Before I could stop myself, I whispered back, "It feels so good to be in your arms, Daddy."

I'd never called him that before, even playfully. And I certainly wasn't playing now. I yearned for him to shower me with the kind of unconditional love and acceptance a father gave his daughter. My own father was completely absent from my life, and I sometimes wondered if that lack explained my issues with other men. I knew it was absurdly cliché, but maybe I put up with Jackson's bullshit because I didn't think I deserved better. After all, my own father had abandoned me.

Arden was silent for several agonizing seconds. Already, I was berating myself for being so stupid. I feared he would lift me off his lap in an effort to put distance between us.  

Instead, he lowered his lips to my hair. "It feels wonderful to hold you, sweetheart."

It was as if my entire body sang from the thrill of his words. Sliding my arms around his neck, I paid no mind to the way my dress rode up my thighs. Maybe I secretly wanted to flash more skin, and to tempt this kind, decent man into touching me in a forbidden way. 

"Tell Daddy what's wrong," Arden coaxed. His arm remained around me, and his hand rested on my hip. My long, dark hair fell down my back, the strands brushing the sleeve of his crisp, clean shirt. 

"Jackson called me last night," I revealed, my face burning with shame. "And I went to his apartment."

I swore I felt Arden tense ever so slightly. During our conversation last week, I could tell he deeply disapproved of the way Jackson treated me, yet he never resorted to giving me a lecture about how I should demand better. He simply expressed his wish that I wouldn't continue to allow myself to be hurt.

"What happened when you went to his apartment?" Arden murmured.

I tried to answer, but fresh tears choked off my words. Arden released a heavy sigh. "Oh, angel," he went on, as if I'd confessed everything, "he could never appreciate you. Not the way Daddy does."

Something in his low voice triggered a faint but undeniable throbbing between my thighs. I allowed my legs to splay open, which caused my dress to ride even higher. Arden breathed a little faster now, immersed as I was in our taboo play. 

"I know, Daddy," I replied in a plaintive tone. "I'm sorry I've disappointed you."

"Oh, you haven't," he rushed to assure me. "And I always want you to feel like you can come to me, about anything. But..." He placed a hand on my bare thigh, the warmth of his palm seeping into my skin. "You need to tell me what you did with that boy."

As I spoke, I realized my panties were already wet. This felt so wrong, bordering on dirty, and yet it turned me on like nothing else. "I let him touch me."

Arden wove his fingers through my hair, then drew my head back. His stare was full of such intensity that I struggled to meet it. "Show me," he insisted. "What did you allow him to do?"

The fabric of my burgundy dress was stretchy, easily giving way to my gentle tugging. It was almost effortless to slip the short sleeves from my arms and then lower the bodice to reveal my black bra. Arden's gaze dropped to my small breasts. My nipples were plenty hard, poking insistently against the bra's cups. "I let him squeeze my tits, Daddy."

My boss released an almost imperceptible moan. With a trembling hand, he covered my right breast. "Like this?" His fingers kneaded my flesh.

"Yes, but I didn't have my bra on."

Arden slid a finger beneath the bra's thin strap. I gasped as he drew it downward, and lower still, until my breast was exposed to his view. Grazing the pale brown nipple with the pad of his thumb, he licked his lips. "So beautiful. And so responsive to my touch!" He grinned at the sight of that hard peak stiffening even more.

By this point, I was writhing in his lap, barely able to control my arousal. I felt his erection through his pants, and it was all I could do not to beg to see it.

Arden's expression grew serious again. "Did you let him suck your breasts?"

Wordlessly, I nodded. Lowering his head, he took my nipple between his lips. Meanwhile, his hand slid along my inner thigh. "Daddy!" I cried. "Oh, you're making me so wet!"

His fingers inched higher. "Did that boy cause you to cream your panties like this, Paige?"

"Not like this!" I whimpered from his teasing touch, and from his filthy words. 

"That's right," he went on, his stare growing fierce, "because only Daddy can." He worked his fingers into my panties to caress my smooth outer lips. The moment he dared to rub my clit, still using a featherlight touch, I rocked my hips, desperate for more stimulation. He withheld it, making me wait.

Finally, I gave Arden a kiss full of need and hunger. Parting my lips, I welcomed his tongue into my mouth. His moans mingled with mine, and he readily massaged my sensitive pearl. Delivering a playful bite to my bottom lip, he swept his fingertips over my folds and down to my entrance. "Did you let him inside you?" he whispered.

Genuine shame heated my cheeks. "Yes, Daddy."

In response, Arden eased his long index finger into my pussy. My muscles immediately clenched around it, as if to milk as much pleasure as possible from that gentle penetration. "So tight!" he breathed. "What a hot, wet little cunt my sweet girl has." Withdrawing his hand, he brought his finger to his lips. I watched, wide-eyed, as he took it in his mouth. "And what a tasty pussy it is, too."

"Please!" I begged, though I wasn't sure exactly what I begged for. It was far more than a desperate request to feel his fingers and cock inside me. The longing to be his girl, his precious, adored angel, grew almost unbearable. I wanted him to possess me entirely.

Of course, he sensed my need. Hadn't he always? "Will you give yourself to me, Paige?" His gaze was tender as he pressed a hand to my cheek. 

"Yes." That word, containing all my relief, issued forth as a sob.

"That's my good girl." He rubbed my back, his touch fatherly and comforting. I derived an intense satisfaction from it, even as my needy pussy ached for touch of a different kind. "And since you're my good girl, my best girl, you'll promise to give yourself only to Daddy, won't you? If that boy contacts you again, you'll tell him no. You'll tell him you belong to someone else. Promise?"

His words, spoken softly but insistently, left no room for disagreement. "I'm all yours, Daddy, I promise."

Arden smiled before planting a sweet, lingering kiss on my mouth. Gentle as his lips were, his touch quickly grew more demanding. The pinch he gave my nipple made me whimper. "And now, Paige," he said in a guttural voice, "Daddy's going to take what's his."