Touch Me, Daddy

3 - Cello.

I'm restless.

Riding in the car, I clench and unclench my hands as I try to release some of the anticipation that has been building for days.

It's been four days since I first saw her picture.

Four. Solid. Days.

I haven't been able to sleep well for four days. Haven't been able to concentrate, and the summer heat isn't helping out either. My every thought is consumed by her. She even infiltrates my dreams.

Can you be obsessed with someone just from a picture? If you had asked me that a week ago, I would've laughed.

Women haven't been at the forefront of my mind in years. Since I lost my father five years ago, my only thought was keeping the business he'd built thriving. I wanted to make it bigger and better, to make him proud. He loved Sturm Corp and had built it from the ground up. Sometimes I even thought he loved the place more than his own family.

Now, something besides work has moved into my mind. I'm no longer spending hours going over things for the office. No, I've been obsessively searching the internet, looking and re-looking at pictures of Mariselle Adams. I flex my right hand again, thinking about the ache there. I've taken myself in hand so many times to try to ease some of the lust I've been feeling. But it hasn't worked.

Thoughts of her spread out on my bed as I rip those garments from her body plague my mind. As I'd feast on every inch of her lush curves, she'd beg me to take her, but I'd take my time, wanting to taste all of her. Touch all of her soft body. Dig my fingers into her wild red hair as I thrust in and out of her with nothing between us. My c**k getting his taste, too.

Fantasy after fantasy played through my mind as I stroked myself over and over again. All it did was give me a sore wrist and a very hard c**k that refused to go down.

Fuck.

Maybe once I see her in person, the ache will start to dull. Maybe I've built it up to be bigger than it really is.

"Sir, we're here," my driver says, pulling me from my thoughts of Mariselle.

I don't wait for him to open the door for me. I hop out, anxious to get inside and see her. I've never gone to a shoot for an ad campaign. I give my ideas and wait to see the finished project. Sometimes I'll get updates of what's happening with them while they're going on and I'll add my thoughts from my office. But this is very different.

When I enter the studio, I see Harry's face fill with surprise. He jumps out of her chair and rushes towards me, flustered as heck.

"Sir, I didn't know you'd be coming. Did I miss something?" He pulls out his phone, probably looking to see if I'd called or sent an email that he'd missed.

"No, Harry. I'm just here to watch."

He squints, then his eyes narrow so suspiciously, I almost laugh. I can't blame him; I've never monitored anything. Harry's the one in charge of overseeing things and getting back to me with a report.

"Okay. I'll get you a chair, or you can have mine." He points to the chair he just vacated.

"I'm fine. I think I'll just stand in the back," I tell him. I want to stand out of sight and watch her first. Get a feel for her and see if I can learn something else about her. I refrained from going to her hotel last night and it almost killed me. I drove by twice and debated going into the bar just to see if she was there.

I'd finally broken and asked my head of security to go in and check it out. If she was at the bar, I was going in. I knew someone would make a move on her if she was there. She is perfect and I couldn't blame them, but that s**t wasn't happening. From what I could find out, I believe she's single, but I don't give a f**k if she isn't. Whatever she had going on before today is over. She's here in Los Angeles, and I won't be letting her go.

I'd let out a sigh of relief when my guy informed me that she was in her room and had just ordered room service and rented a movie. I still made him stay and keep an eye out for her. If she moved from her room, I wanted to know about it. It was then I finally let myself go home. She was here and within my reach. That had helped calm my inner battle a little.

"Oh good, Bosco's assistant is here." I look over my shoulder to where Harry is looking, and my jaw clenches so hard I'm shocked I don't crack my teeth.

The photographer looks like he should be on the other side of the camera. He's young, maybe college-age.

"That's not happening," I tell Harry, looking back at him.

"What?" He looks confused, and panic starts to set in on his face.

"He will not be seeing my Mariselle in her underwear," I bite out, trying to stay cool, but not caring that I'm giving myself up about wanting her. I don't care if everyone knows. They'll all know soon enough.

Realization sets in, and a smile pulls at his lips, but one hard look from me makes it drop quickly.

"He's gay, sir. Bosco confirmed it. He'll be here soon too in case you want to ask him personally."

"I don't care. He won't be when he sees her."

I find it completely unbelievable that there would be a man on earth who wouldn't want her. I've only seen a picture of her, and I'm obsessed.

Consumed.

Maybe I should just take the pictures myself. I debate the idea in my head.

"I can send everyone home and get something else set up."

Fuck.

"Just start with the other girls. There are other girls doing the shoot, right?" I ask. I actually don't know anything about the shoot now that I think about it. My mind has only been on the fact that Mariselle would be here.

"Yes, there are some right there." He turns, pointing to the corner of the room. Sure enough, there are eight women standing there, all made up and wearing almost nothing. I hadn't even noticed them, but they're all looking at me and whispering. I'm sure they're wondering who I am, or else they know who I am and are wondering what I'm doing here.

Great. That's the last thing I need right now. I didn't want to attract attention. Well, I only wanted to capture one person's attention.

"Where is she?" I ask, pulling my eyes back to Harry. I know she's already here. Security told me when she left this morning, and I had a car bring her here.

"She'll be here soon. There was a problem with the lingerie." Harry looks around as if unsure how to word what he wants to say. "The bra. She was spilling over the top. They're trying to fix it as we speak."

I crush down the image of someone helping her into a bra. I take a deep breath.

Someone calls Harry's name, and he dashes back over to the set area to break up something between two of the models.

Taking a few more breaths, I try to get myself under control. She doesn't even know who I am. I calm myself down and try to be cool and relaxed. I can do this. I can behave like a normal person instead of a caveman. I can't let this be the first time she sees me, a f*****g jealous nut case.

Then I see her step out from backstage.

And all my self-control comes undone.