Daddy’s Orders (Silver Fox Daddies)
Chapter 8

Ifelt like a freaking idiot. I wasn’t the most skilled girl in the world when it came to seduction, but how the hell had I screwed up all but offering myself to him on a silver platter? What was the deal? Had I been good enough to deflower, but not good enough for another session in the shower?

Tears formed in my eyes as I finished washing myself. The worst part was that I had no idea why I’d even done it. We’d just had sex, did I really want it again that badly?

The more I thought about it, the more the real reason for my clumsy seduction attempt dawned on me. I’d felt strange after Logan and I had slept together, mainly because of the sudden and cold way he’d turned off his emotions.

I wasn’t stupid. I hadn’t expected him to pull out a damn diamond ring and propose to me on the spot, nor did I want that. I’d slept with him for two reasons—the first was to piss off Dad. I still needed to break the news to him, but as far as I was concerned it was mission accomplished.

The second reason was that, well, I’d wanted to. After so much time reading about sex and watching movies about it, I wanted to know what it was really like. And the verdict was… it’d been pretty damn good. Logan, as mad as I was at him, had been an excellent lover. My first time hadn’t hurt much at all, and there’d been no doubt in my mind during it that I was in the hands of someone skilled.

But showing him my body like that and having him turn me down had been hard to swallow. I felt rejected, used and silly.

The worst part was that I couldn’t blame Logan for anything. We hadn’t done anything that I hadn’t eagerly walked into. Heck, he’d gone out of his way to make sure I’d been cool with everything we’d done together. If I’d wanted to stop it, I could’ve done so with a single word.

Still, he didn’t have to be such a jerk afterward. What possible motivation could he have for being so cold to me so soon after we’d had sex? It slowly began to dawn on me with horror the possibility that he was some kind of ladies’ man, the kind of guy who slept with women for fun and to have another notch on his damn bedpost. The guy was a billionaire, and no doubt used to getting what he wanted, when he wanted it, on his terms.

Why would I be any different?

Part of me wanted to stay in the shower forever, to spend the entire flight in there. It was a silly thought, so I turned off the water and reached for a towel. I dried myself off, taking my time. Every second I spent in the bathroom was one that I didn’t have to be around him.

When I was ready, I wrapped one towel around my hair and the other around my body, heading into the bedroom. My bag was on the bed, and I opened it. Right away, my eyes went to the lacy black thong in my underwear pouch. I took it out, holding the panties in front of me, a small smile on my face. No doubt Logan would love the sight of me in these. I almost wanted to put them on, then march into the main part of the plane and really give him something to stare at.

I wanted to do that not for the purpose of seducing him, but for a different reason—to show him what he wanted but couldn’t have. Sure, he’d turned me down in the shower, but I saw the way he’d stared at me, the way his mouth had opened, and his eyes locked onto my body. Maybe he’d be able to resist me once, but not twice. I wanted to tease him, to dangle myself in front of him but not let him take me.

God, what had Logan awakened in me when he’d taken my virginity?

I pushed the idea out of my head as I stepped into my panties. Once those were on, I went for a matching bra, along with some simple blue jeans and a comfortable, navy-blue hoodie. There was something about the idea of being dressed sexy underneath while comfy on the outside that was very appealing to me, like I had a secret I was keeping from Logan.

I dried my hair a bit more, putting it into a simple ponytail before leaving the bedroom and returning to the main space of the plane. My stomach tensed as I stepped into the room, knowing that Logan was there. He was seated at the small dining table off to the side, his laptop open in front of him, a small scattering of papers to his left. He was busy at work, glancing over to his laptop before jotting notes down onto the papers.

Suddenly, a smell greeted me—the delicious scent of cooked steak. I noticed that there was a plate to Logan’s left, a neat spread of steak along with some beans and rice and tortillas, a little dish of dark green sauce next to the plate.

It smelled really, really good.

Logan kept his attention on his work, not so much as turning his head to greet me.

I went to the bar, taking out a bottle of mineral water and cracking it open before sliding into a seat on the other side of the aisle. Logan stayed focused, the gentle scrawling of his pen on paper blending with the low roar of the engines.

We sat without speaking to one another, tension building in the air by the moment. At least, tension on my end. For all I knew Logan was so engrossed in his work that he hadn’t even noticed I was there. I sipped my water, casting glances out the window onto the carpeting of fluffy, white clouds, the shimmering blue ocean peeking through the breaks.

“There’s more if you want it.” Logan’s deep, powerful voice snapped me out of my daydreaming.

“Huh?”

Slowly, he set down his pen before turning to me.

“Food. Flank steak with chimichurri. It’s excellent. And there’s plenty if you want some.”

My stomach growled at the mention of food. “God, something to eat sounds great. I wasn’t hungry before, but I guess I worked up an appetite—”

I stopped myself, my face going red. Logan regarded me with a blank expression before chuckling to himself, then turning his attention back to his meal and work.

Without another word, he pressed a nearby button. The door to the front of the plane opened seconds later, a trim, pretty Latina woman who appeared no older than thirty-five stepping out, a warm smile on her face.

“Hello there, señorita ! I’m Estella. Something I can get for you?”

Her English was perfect, aside from a slight accent. The fact that she spoke Spanish, however, gave me an idea.

“Tu hablas Español, si?” I asked.

Estella’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “You speak it?” she replied.

“Since I was a little girl. My nanny’s from Mexico.”

Logan perked up. I could sense that he realized that a conversation had started that he wasn’t able to understand or participate in.

Good.

“That’s so lovely to hear. I have to say, you speak it beautifully.”

I smiled. “That’s so nice of you to say.”

She matched my smile with one of her own. “Anyway, I made some food for the boss, and there’s plenty if you’d like some.”

“Chimichurri, right? I’d love some.”

“And to drink?”

I opened my mouth to say water, the only drink that Dad allowed me to have most of the time. No calories in water, after all. Before I said the word, a thought occurred to me.

“Is there Coke back there?”

“Sure is. Even got the good Mexican kind in the glass bottles with the real sugar.”

My mouth watered at the idea. “One of those, please. And extra steak.”

“You got it.”

Estella winked before heading off. I turned my attention to the TV viewing area—a small, cozy little space with two rows of couches situated in front of a decent-sized flatscreen TV. I moved over, plopping onto one of the couches and picking up the very complicated looking remote.

“Hard to make heads or tails of that thing,” Estella spoke in Spanish, approaching with a plate of sumptuous-looking steak tucked next to fresh beans and rice. The meal was served with a portion of delicious green chimichurri and a small stack of foil wrapped tortillas. She placed the spread in front of me before popping the top off the bottle of Coke with an opener.

“My Dad… he doesn’t really let me watch TV. No idea how to use this thing.”

Estella set the drink down, a quizzical expression on her face. I could guess what she was probably thinking—why the hell would a dad not allow his adult daughter to watch TV? If that was indeed the question on her mind, she didn’t ask it.

“This thing’s got all the streaming stuff—Netflix, Amazon, HBO, Disney… here.” She pressed a few buttons on the remote, turning on the TV and bringing up the menu. “Just use the arrows, then press this button to select. The button that looks like a little house takes you back to the home screen.”

With that, she handed over the remote. I held it for a time, staring at all of the icons on the screen, each one representing a different streaming option.

“You OK?” Estella asked. “Want me to show you again?”

I shook my head, coming back into the moment. “No, it’s not that. It’s just… I’ve never done this before.”

“Watched TV on a plane?”

“No, not that. I’ve never just sat in front of a TV like this with the remote in my hand being able to pick whatever I wanted to watch.”

Estella cocked her head to the side, regarding me as something quite curious.

“Well, you can watch whatever you want for the entire flight and no one’s going to give a damn, especially not me or Mr. Stone. Though, I might suggest these.” She opened a small compartment to the side of the couch, the top popping up and revealing a pair of fancy-looking headphones. “Press the button on the side and you can turn them on. The round button next to that turns on the noise-cancelling. Mr. Stone tends to get, ah, a little animated when he’s on his business calls, so you’ll get some use out of that.”

I couldn’t stop beaming. “Thanks, Estella.”

“Of course. Let me know if you need anything else.”

With that, Estella turned to leave. A thought occurred to me as she did, my eyes lighting up with excitement as it dawned.

“Hey, Estella?” I asked in Spanish.

“Yes?”

“There’s a full kitchen back there, right?”

“About as full of one as you can get on a private plane.”

“Does that mean there’s… ice cream?”

Estella laughed. “You bet there is. A few different flavors, too.”

“When I’m done with this, if I still have room, would it be possible to have some?” As I spoke the words, I realized that a tinge of hesitancy was in my voice, as if Estella were going to snap at me for daring to ask for a treat.

Estella cocked her head to the side. “Let me ask you, when’s the last time you’ve had ice cream?”

I opened my mouth to speak but then froze. I had no idea.

“Um, not really sure. Oh, wait! My nanny snuck some in a year or so ago. It was really good, leftover Ted and Jerry’s.”

“Ted and Jerry’s?”

“That’s what it’s called, right? The brand with the two guys on it?”

Estella let out a lighthearted laugh. “Pick out something to watch. I’ll be right back.”

She turned and left without another word. Confused, I picked up the remote and selected Netflix. I couldn’t believe how many shows were there, thousands and thousands of whatever kind I wanted to watch. After a little browsing, I picked Emily in Paris. It looked lighthearted and cute and a little glamorous, with plenty of romance. And it didn’t hurt that I shared a name with the protagonist.

The title screen came on and right as I was about to reach for my headphones, a big bowl of ice cream appeared in front of me. I sat up, unsure of what I was seeing.

“Ever had chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream before?”

“Never in my life. But it sounds amazing.”

“My mother used to say, ‘life is short, eat dessert first.’ Not sure if I agree with her one hundred percent, but in this case, I think it’s definitely in order.”

With another wink and smile, Estella left and headed to the back of the plane. Without waiting another second, I grabbed the bowl and took a bite.

It was delicious. The sweet creaminess of the vanilla ice cream was the perfect complement to the chewy bits of cool cookie dough. I couldn’t help but let out a moan of pure pleasure.

“You alright over there?” I glanced over my shoulder to see Logan looking up from his work.

“Fine. Don’t you worry about me.”

With that, I went right back to ignoring him as I slipped on my headphones, pressed play, and took another bite. Why shouldn’t I have dessert first? After all, I’d already had a hell of a main course.