Archive of Our Own ^beta

Stacks on Deck
A Sugar Daddy Darklina Fic
By Lala

I want your body

Need your body

Long as you got me

You won't need nobody

-Whatever You Like by T.I.

“Sugardaddymeet.com,” Genya said so matter-of-factly that Alina choked her water down the wrong tube and came up coughing. 

Alina was expecting Genya to say something like ‘I took on more clients’ or ‘Everyone pitched in’ when Alina asked, “How in the world did you afford Omokase for my birthday dinner? That must have been $200/person.” Not:

“Sugardaddymeet.com?” Alina asked hoarsely as she gained her breath.

Genya turned down the music in her car as she tapped her perfectly manicured nails on the wheel while they waited for the stoplight to turn. Alina lazily swayed in her seat, enjoying the downslope view of a late-night San Francisco from the car. Clean lines of old buildings glowed green, yellow, and red from the changing stop lights. She was tipsy from a few warm sake shots she probably shouldn’t have snuck in. But it was her birthday, and she was surrounded by her friends.

And they kind of pressured her.

“Yes,” Genya nodded, her wavy red hair bouncing. “And Mal helped too. Even though I told him I could cover the bill, he insisted. I think that guy likes you, Alina,” she gave Alina a playful nudge with her elbow, and Alina giggled as she swatted Genya away. 

“Shut up, Genya,” Alina snorted, thinking about how she had to let him down gently at the end of the night. She needed to get home. Mom would worry. “But seriously, sugar daddies? Are you serious?” No. Not Genya. Genya is smart and capable and had her own business as a hairdresser. Alina couldn’t believe it. Genya didn’t need a sugar daddy.

“Don’t be such a virgin.” Genya wrinkled her nose playfully at Alina. “I’ve been doing it for a year, and it’s not so bad. In fact,” Genya gave Alina a pointed look. “I highly recommend it.”

“A YEAR?” Alina squealed. “You’ve been having sex with random rich guys for a year, and you haven’t told me?”

“You really think I got all this stuff and my new apartment from doing balayage to rich housewives?” Genya retorted back.

Alina sat back with a huff as she did a little slurry math. Genya did have a bunch of fancy clothes all of a sudden. Her new apartment in Presidio Heights was super swanky and the envy of all, especially because she had no roommates. That was almost unheard of for adults under thirty in the Bay Area of California. Then there was this brand new Tesla.

“Wow,” Alina nodded, eyes wide and pressing her lips together. “Genya. Seriously?”

“I don’t have sex with all of them,” Genya rolled her eyes.

“There are more than one?!” Alina couldn’t decide whether to be impressed or shocked. “GENYA!”

“See, this is why I didn’t tell you,” Genya said calmly. “I knew you’d be dramatic.”

“But that’s part of my charm,” Alina grinned at her bestie. “I can’t believe you’re being so pragmatic. “

“Oh, but that’s part of my charm, my dear,” Genya winked back.

And that’s really all it took for Alina to accept Genya’s shocking news that she had been using a Sugar Daddy website to get more money. Because her beautiful, perfect, wonderful, intelligent, talented best friend, Genya was just that: pragmatic. Realistic with her feet on the ground. She always whipped out a spreadsheet and a planner and figured it out when she wanted something. She never just dreamed. She went for it. That’s why Genya got her GED at sixteen years old and her beauty license before Alina and the rest of her friends graduated high school. 

“Are they…” Alina rocked her head from side to side, looking for the right words. “Are they nice to you?”

“They’re not mean,” Genya said carefully. “You know why I’m telling you this, right? If you want to stay in San Francisco, you gotta do more than work at Black Bird Bookstore.”

Alina’s belly lurched at the reminder: in 22 days, Alina was going to move. Alina’s mom was retiring early and following her dream: Living in an all-women’s commune in Mexico. And unless Alina could figure out her own way in San Francisco, she’d have to leave with her.

“Uh-huh,” Alina said quietly. “Let’s not talk about it? Maybe?” She swallowed the lump forming in her throat. “It’s my birthday.”

“Okay,” Genya said tentatively. “It just got me thinking,” she continued gently. “I know you want the fairytale. Maybe a transaction isn’t so romantic, but what if you find that Prince Charming you’re always going on about, huh, Cinderella?”

Alina smiled, letting her tipsy brain flow into the fantasy of finding Prince Charming on the sugar daddy website. She really was a little Anne of Green Gables, nose in the book, head in the clouds kind of girl.

“Are they…” Alina giggled, doing her best to help lighten the mood. “Are they gross?”

“No!” Genya giggled back as she turned the corner into where Alina lived.

The Russian Hill district in San Francisco was world-famous for its luxurious neighborhood. Both fresh with its eclectic shops and unique restaurants and historical with the gorgeous billion-dollar homes, the district was the picture of wealth in the Bay Area.

Alina knew she was lucky to live there, because Alina didn’t technically belong in the affluent neighborhood of San Francisco. She probably should be living across the bay in Oakland in a small apartment complex or even a day-to-day motel with her mother. But instead, she lived in one of the biggest mansions in the fanciest neighborhoods in the wealthiest city in the world. Bur since Alina’s mother was the head housecleaner for Mr. Morozova, San Francisco’s most sought-after financial attorney in the world, they lived in his home.

Genya pulled up to the mansion, and Alina paused as she looked up into the giant home. All the lights were on, so Mr. Morozova was awake. He didn’t like to be in the dark. It made the house too gloomy, he said. But Alina wasn’t sure if anything would make the gorgeous home gloomy. The gray and white four-story home was in the most lavish neighborhood but still stood out as the most elaborate and regal.

Alina saw the looming shadow of a large figure pass by one of the windows. Alina tried not to react, but her body involuntarily trembled at the sight.

Mr. Morozova.

Aleksander.

He passed by the window once more, his eyes on a stack of papers in his hand. Aleksander didn’t linger, and Alina got less than a second to enjoy him. But if she had to be honest, no amount of time would be enough for Alina to enjoy the handsome millionaire. His presence. Aleksander was authoritative, a little menacing, and big.

So big.

Just that morning, Alina ran into Aleksander in his ridiculously huge chef’s kitchen after his workout. Alina thought she’d faint at the sight of his meaty, muscular chest, shiny with sweat. She tried to keep it together but ended up spazzing out and tripped when she tried to rush past him. Aleksander held her so sure and tight by her waist and pinned her to the counter, flexing his thick biceps in the process, so Alina wouldn’t topple. He had to have thought she was ill from how red and flush her face turned.

“Oopsie daisy,” he whispered and then shook his head at himself, embarrassed. “Sorry. That was such an old man thing to say.”

Aleksander was forty-eight years old. A single widower.

Alina just celebrated her eighteenth birthday.

And she has been obsessed with him since she was assaulted by her puberty at around fourteen.

Her mom’s boss. The man people said Alina was lucky to have because he was such a “good father figure.”

It was kind of a problem.

Alina tried to suppress her extreme fixation on Aleksander, but nothing and no one could penetrate her hypercrush on him. All of her fantasies of Aleksander were much more exciting than any boy she’d met could ever achieve in real life. So, she never took boys her age seriously. Not that it mattered now. There wouldn’t be boys at the commune in Mexico.

Alina glanced up one more time, hoping to get another glance at Aleksander.

“Not all rich men are gross,” Genya said, reading Alina’s mind.

Alina hugged Genya goodbye and thanked her for a beautifully perfect birthday. She attempted to sneak into her house without her mother knowing. Mom knew Alina would be out, but she just didn’t want the inconvenience of answering to Mom while wobbly on a few sake shots. She also hoped to avoid Aleksander too. He wasn’t a fan of her going out late, especially not a fan of her drinking alcohol, seeing that she was still underage.

Alina snuck in through the side door and silently walked toward her room. Before she arrived there, she found a handful of boxes in the hallway, stacked and full. Alina’s stomach twisted at the reminder that she had very little time with Genya, her friends, San Francisco, and Aleksander.

She found several folded boxes leaning on the wall and a note near her door.

Darling,

 

We only have a few weeks to pack. Please only take the essentials. We won’t have a way to transport your room full of books, so please find a new home for them.

 

Love,

Mom

“My books!?” Alina moaned quietly.

But her books were all she had, the only place where she actually belonged. Living in Russian Hill and going to the fancy schools Aleksander helped her get into (“A scholarship, not charity,” she heard him tell her mother once), surrounded by high life luxuries, was the stuff of fairytale dreams. But the reality was, she didn’t belong in a mansion on a hill. All her friends were trust fund babies. They were all getting fancy cars, going to the Marina on weekends, and worried about getting their precious monthly stipend to keep the lifestyle up.

Alina was worried about getting enough shifts at Black Bird to cover her phone bill, the cost of bus fare, and if her thrift store finds could pass for vintage rather than trash.

This was not her world, and as much as she tried to fit in, tried to fake it, at the end of the day, she’d walk into this grand mansion and tuck away into the small side room reserved for the help.

She was still just the maid’s daughter.

Her books were her escape. Where she could pretend, and there was no crash back to reality. Because she could just pick up another book and disappear. She could be an innocent princess or an adventurous pilot, a lovesick doctor, a spunky seductress, a prim therapist, a good witch. She could be all these things and keep it going and going and never go back to being just the maid’s daughter.

Alina hung her purse on the hook in the hallway, the dread of the short timeline she had hanging in her head. More tipsy math swirled in her as she counted the days she had left with Aleksander. Only twenty-two. She looked at her phone. It was 1am, and he was still working.

Oh, Mr. Morozova.

The woozy math turned into woozy bravery because even though Aleksander would not be happy that she was out drinking, she only had twenty-two days. Alina was not going to waste any more time.

Instinctively, she walked over to the kitchen for a water bottle for him. In the reflection of the big mirrors to the lights of San Francisco, Alina saw her long, plaid skirt and tucked-in Selena tee, her hair in a mess of curls on her shoulders.

“Spunky seductress,” Alina whispered to herself as she undid a few buttons from the bottom of the skirt, giving herself a deep slit and showing off her shapely thighs. She pulled her bra out, threw it down the hall by her door, untucked her shirt, tied it tight under her breasts, and shook out her hair. 

She walked through the grand sitting room, up the enormous staircase, and down the hall to Aleksander’s study with a gait of determination.

Alina exhaled a hot breath and fixed her most flirtatious smile behind his closed door.

Spunky seductress.

Alina opened the door to the study and saw Aleksander frowning over several documents laid out on his desk. He stood back, leaning one hand on his hip, the other ruffling through his thick black hair. He sighed and chewed on his lip, thinking. Always thinking.

One glimpse of him made Alina’s body prick with goosebumps, her nipples hardening under her tight shirt.

“Mr. Morozova?” Alina singsonged as she strutted into the study. “Are you seriously still working?”

His office was simple, with dark gray walls, a few pieces of furniture, and one giant desk to house all his files and paperwork. Aleksander had no decorations, no paintings. Just one photo of himself and his late wife, Luda, near his computer.

“Yes,” he said distractedly as he picked up a document and marked it. “How was your birthday party, Alina?”

“Fine,” she said, pouting because he didn’t bother to look at her. She approached him and set the water down right in the middle of his documents as she leaned against the desk.

He looked up from his work for one moment, never acknowledging the makeshift sexy outfit she attempted to model in front of him. He blinked once behind his glasses and turned back to his work.

Alina pressed her lips together and sighed quietly through her nose. She was used to this. He rarely looked at her. To Aleksander, Alina was still that pig-tailed child that ran around pretending to be a dragon or an airplane, sometimes a Buzz Lightyear in his big house. It was ok. Aleksander didn’t have to notice her. She’s lived like this for a long time, and with her leaving soon, it was best that he remain just a dream. A little make-believe that was actually hers, instead of what he really was: too busy to consider her.

“I see Ana is all geared up for the big move.” Aleksander was still preoccupied with his work, flipping through papers, rearranging them around the water, and sitting down with a loud groan.

Alina was happy to see him sit. He always looked a little tired. With his black hair ruffled and dark eyebrows drawn over those always hard-stare eyes. Tortoise-shell framces sat upon his arched nose, the only thing about him that seemed arrogant. Aleksander scratched his beard, messying it up, short hairs covering his always-serious mouth. 

“Yeah, lots to do,” Alina said, trying to hide the sadness behind her reply. Alina swayed, the warm sake still making her feel dancey and loose.

That was when Aleksander finally looked at Alina with that expectant expression. The one that said, ‘Goodnight, Alina.’

And normally, Alina would take that cue and leave him be. She’d walk the long trek back to her room and hastily ride the heel of her hand, sobbing quietly for Mr. Morozova.

Perhaps it was the sake, and perhaps it was the thought of leaving him and San Francisco forever. All she wanted was for Aleksander to hold her and tell her that everything would be ok. Alina was emotional, foggy-brained, and lovesick and did not have it in her to leave his side.

Not goodnight. Not yet, Mr. Morozova.

She took a deep breath, Alina’s heart leaping out of her chest with every beat, as she stepped around the desk and in front of him. Alina avoided his eye contact, keeping her gaze on his broad, manspread thighs. She heard Aleksander take a breath, and before he could say anything, she slid right onto him, perching herself on top of his lap. Alina could smell his cheap soap– Irish Spring, so fresh on his skin. Hard muscles flexed under her butt, and she fluttered her eyelashes up to him. She was met with his dark, smoldering stare. So piercing and black, she’s not sure if he even had pupils. Then he spoke.

“Alina.” It was gruff, almost barking. Dominant. His tone. The tone he used when she cheated at hide and seek or when she overheard him cutting an important deal over the phone. The tone that made him the most ruthless lawyer in the city. The tone that gave him the cutthroat reputation. The tone that no one could argue against. It almost made her squeak off and run away. And maybe another night she would. But not this night. Not with such little precious time they had left.

Spunky seductress.

“Whatcha workin’ on Mr. Morzova?” Alina pouted, lifting her voice a half octave higher than usual. Hoping he’d remember when she’d sneak in here when she was a little kid in the middle of the night when she had nightmares. Maybe he’d hold her like that again.

“Alina.” Again the tone. Harsh and stern, seasoned with decades of experience. “What… are you drunk?”

She tilted her head up and carefully pulled off his glasses, his dark gaze softening, but only slightly. Alina folded his glasses, dragged them down her neck to the collar of her shirt, and tucked it there between her breasts. His dark eyes followed and settled there for one delicious moment. He held his breath as she arched her back, her face reddening at her boldness.

“Just a few sake shots,” Alina admitted. She lifted her hands and smoothed them over his sweater vest, pressing against his taut muscle. “You should have come,” she pouted again. “You deserve a break.”

She meant that. Aleksander worked constantly. She could hear him in the kitchen at 5am making himself a coffee, asking Alexa to turn on all the lights in the house. She couldn’t remember the last time he went to bed before midnight. Alina worried about him, but no matter how many times she tried to slow him down, he never relaxed.

“I highly doubt your friends want some old lawyer at your party,” Aleksander said, his body so still under hers. “Alina, please. You’re drunk. You shouldn’t be on my lap like a child-”

“Knots,” she giggled, a flirty grin on her lips as she felt around his shoulders. “You have big ol’ knots all around your neck. And you’re sweating.” She tugged at his sweater vest, letting her fingers press against his chest as she felt him more. Aleksander flinched at her touch, clearly uncomfortable, but Alina couldn’t find it in her to stop. “It’s a warm night, Mr. Morozova. You can at least get down to your sleep clothes and be more comfortable.”

“Is it warm?” He growled. And Alina froze because she had never heard that tone before. “Because I can see your hard nipples right through that shirt. You shouldn’t be so revealing when you go out, Milaya.” Aleksander said it so quickly that Alina was absolutely sure he didn’t mean for the thought to escape his mouth. He shut his eyes, a blush coloring his cheeks. “I’m sorry, Alina. That was very crude. I shouldn’t be-”

“Wait but-” Alina’s heart burst at hearing him say her old nickname. She hadn’t heard him call her that since she got her braces off. Alina tried her best to cling to him as he stood up, but she slid off his lap and fumbled to keep up on her shaky legs.

“I’m so embarrassed,” Aleksander said with a hard breath. “I must be tired. I’m being inappropriate…” He reached over and took his glasses from her shirt. “Let’s both go to bed. I’m so sorry, Alina.”

No. No, Mr. Morozova. We only have 22 days, and we’ve made so much progress already.

Alina ignored his requests to call it a night, leaned against his desk, and tugged at her shirt, making it tighter against her tits. She smirked when Aleksander’s dark eyes stayed on her chest as she arched her back and presented her tiny buds to him once again.

“But I’m not tired,” Alina said, again in her higher voice. “And I know you’re not either.”

“Milaya…” Alina was delighted to discover that her baby voice was what made him call her by her childhood nickname. “Time for bed.”

That’s when she saw it. In Aleksander’s pants, an enormous bulge was right behind the zipper of his khakis. So prominent she could see the outline of his thick shaft. And when she looked back up to his face, Aleksander could only swallow back at her, red creeping upon his cheeks.

“Oh god,” Aleksander quickly jammed his hand in his pants to adjust himself. “I’m tired. I’m not used to seeing you dressed like this. I’m so sorry. Please, Alina-”

He moved towards her and tugged at her shirt, pulling it, so it wasn’t so tight on her breasts. His warm hands swiped her belly, and Alina squeezed her legs together as she throbbed so hard that her body felt like an entire pulse.

“I just haven’t been with anyone since Luda. It’s been a very long time, and you’re very pretty, so-”

“You think I’m pretty?” She really hammed it up with the baby voice. It was quick thinking on her part. Hearing about Luda from Aleksander always put a damper on her spirits, sad for her dream man and everything he had to endure. But she had to move forward. Spunky seductress was working.

“Milaya,” Aleksander shook his head, and Alina stepped toward him. He stilled when she tentatively wrapped her hand around his wrist. He looked down towards her, bending down low enough that their lips would touch if she stood on her toes. She could inhale his breath and feel the scratchy whiskers on his face. “You’re Ana’s daughter. Just a kid. I’m much older. I shouldn’t have put you in this position.” He inched his other hand to her shirt, undid the knot, and pulled her shirt down. When his fingers swiped the sensitive underside of her tits, Alina suppressed a whine. “You’ve been drinking. You’re not thinking straight. This is not like you, Alina. Time for bed, ok?”

Alina nodded, watching his neck flex with a hard swallow. She let go of his wrist and took a step back, trying to hide her panting breaths. Alina’s brain was in a loop: Aleksander’s noticeable bulge for her, how his eyes roved up and down her body.

I can see your hard nipples.

She could barely believe this was happening. Mr. Morozova was attracted to her. 

He also is determined to put a stop to all of this.

This tiny crack, this little break in Aleksander’s resolve, was enough for Alina to push him just a bit further.

“Please, Milaya,” Aleksander looked troubled more than ever as he spoke. “Bed.”

Spunky seductress.

“Ok, Mr. Morozova,” Alina nodded as she sidestepped her way away from his desk. His dark eyes remained on her as she walked away. Alina could feel them like warm fingers grazing her body. She turned back and watched his gaze, crawling from her legs to her waist, her chest, with her shirt tenting over her. And even though he did his best to hide his erection, she could see a wet spot of precum forming on his pants.

Oh, Mr. Morozova.

When his eyes finally reached hers, Alina sucked back her bottom lip and bit it with a smirk. And before he spoke, or blinked, or did anything to change the course of her plans, she gripped the bottom hem of her shirt and pulled it up, flashing him her young tits, pert nipples and all.

“Holy shit,” Aleksander half hiccuped, half groaned. He attempted to turn away but seemed unable to commit as he took deep breaths, his eyes flitting between the ground and her chest. She giggled and brought her arms down to squeeze her tits together and dance them at him. Aleksander finally found his willpower as he rushed towards her and yanked her shirt down so hard that Alina thought it would rip right off. “Alina,” he quietly barked. “To bed.”

“I’m not a child anymore, Mr. Morozova,” she whispered to him, her voice still high and childish. She smoothed her hand over his erection, gripping it softly, letting her fingers trail over the pulsing rod. Alina panted slowly as she watched him grit his teeth and hold his breath, suppressing a moan. “But you can still call me your Milaya.”

“Stop,” Aleksander shut his eyes and took a step back. “I mean it, Alina. Go to bed.”

He abruptly turned and stalked across the room where it was safe, behind his desk. He shuffled his papers, rearranged his pens, and stuffed items in a folder, ignoring her presence. Alina pressed her knees together, finally noticing how swollen her clit was, the mess in her panties, the hopeless feeling of emptiness in her cunt. She needed him more than ever, not just to satisfy her primal hunger but to soothe her.

21 days left, Mr. Morozova.

How in the world could she get more time with him?

Alina turned and walked away, taking the long trek to the maids’ quarters, allowing him his peace finally.

She opened the door to her room, taking in her walls completely lined with shelves of books.

Her life.

A thought passed through her wary head: She could just ask Aleksander to keep her in San Francisco. She was sure he would do it until she figured something out. And as soon as she thought that, she dismissed it immediately like she always did. Her mother would never allow it. Alina was always taught to work for her money and earn her way. Even the school tuition Aleksander paid for was technically from a scholarship fund his practice set up that she qualified for.

She couldn’t ask him.

Not an option.

She plopped in bed, scrolling through her phone one last time, and she saw a text from Genya. It was the website sugardaddymeet.com. And without hesitation, Alina created her profile.

This is temporary.

No sex. Just dates.

This is just so I could stay in San Francisco.

This is for Mr. Morozova.

She took a look at her walls before drifting off to sleep.

And for my books.

Aleksander yanked off his glasses and rubbed the space between his eyebrows, hoping the succulent memory of two gorgeous young tits would blur out along with his sight.

I'm not a child anymore.

He knew that. Aleksander dreaded the day Alina would turn eighteen for at least two years. That's why he offered to fund Ana's lifelong dream of retiring in Mexico early. Ana planned to have everything saved up in three years. But he couldn't wait that long. He had to get Alina out of his house, or he might snap.

So he offered Ana a deal. His head housewife was never one to take a handout. But he said if she found a suitable replacement, he would grant her a sizable finders fee.

Aleksander knew the temptation to retire early would outweigh Ana’s hard-headedness about money.

Ana found her replacement quickly, but getting out of town took longer than Aleksander could bear. She had a few ongoing projects at church, had to say goodbye to friends, and there was Alina's graduation. At least they had plane tickets. Ana and Alina would be departing in twenty-one days.

Just twenty-one days until he put Alina on a plane to Mexico, and he wouldn't have to fight the violent urge to yank her over his shoulder, shove her face into his mattress and fuck her brains out like a goddamned animal.

It had been hard enough to suppress his hunger when Alina pranced into the kitchen, wearing silky vintage dresses with their thin fabric, a little misshapen around her pretty hips, her round perky tits. Her smart little smirks felt like they hid a secret that Aleksander wanted to pry out of her.

Alina was sweet and innocent, much different from the world he mostly lived in– making questionable deals for the rich and ruthless. Aleksander just needed one glance at her fresh, sweet face, and he was hard for hours.

But Alina, his Milaya, was off-limits. Thirty years younger than him. The daughter of his most-trusted employee. And on top of all of that, Aleksander was the closest thing she had to a father.

And that made Aleksander feel sick to his stomach. Because once upon a time, she'd sprint up to his office when she had nightmares, clutching her teddy, face full of tears. He'd sit her on his lap and read boring documents to her until she passed out. Just a kid.

Then something happened. Aleksander couldn't remember when, but one day she walked into his study with a water bottle, a thin sleep shirt barely covering her perfect little rack.

And Alina, his Milaya, wasn't a little girl anymore. She was still so pure and sweet, but Aleksander couldn't help but stare at her juicy tits and perky ass when she'd make her late-night visits, making his cock so hard and wanting, he thought he'd rip right through his khakis.

Alina's new body was enough for Aleksander to make a concerted effort to get her far away from him. He could not have these kinds of urges for Alina. Not the girl that ran into his bedroom every Christmas morning asking if Santa had arrived yet. 

Then she came on to him last night.

That was almost his undoing.

Alina was drunk. She had to be because in no universe would a delicious young girl like Alina would want anything to do with a middle-aged, boring, old man. She was drunk and full of youthful hormones. She didn't know what she was doing. Alina could have anyone.

The filthy thoughts he had when she sat on his lap, when she flashed her pretty titties, when she gripped his cock…

You want to fuck, little Alina?

Spread open your whore legs and let me pound your good girl cunt.

Gonna make you squeal my name. That fucking baby voice gonna send me to prison.

He could not stop thinking about her voice.

You can still call me your Milaya.

Over and over all day, he thought about her sweet baby talk. He couldn't concentrate on anything. Aleksander woke up with a raging boner like he was sixteen years old, already leaking, balls screwed up so tight, he ached in his belly. Aleksander jerked off to the thought of her pretty tiny tits bouncing in his face, Alina whimpering. 'Mr. Morozova' as she rabbited on his lap, her tight teen pussy like a vice on his cock.

He couldn't sate himself. And worse even, he felt guilty as hell.

She was a child, and Aleksander wasn't some fucking pervert. He didn't like it when his clients took several young women and molded them into what they wanted, only to replace them with another when she had her own dreams and desires.

Alina deserved to explore, find her way. Mexico would be just one stop in her big dreams. Soon there would be other big cities, a career, maybe a boyfriend.

Aleksander stood suddenly and stalked across his office to avoid punching his desk.

No boyfriends.

Aleksander stared out into the city's twinkling lights from his high-rise corner office and took a deep breath. Was it a fatherly instinct that made him react this way or jealousy? He shook his head at himself after calming down. Did he really obsess over last night's advances so much that he thought he had a chance with Alina?

Get a hold of yourself, Aleksander.

"Still here, I should have known." 

A voice behind Aleksander startled him, and he spun quickly to find its owner.

A square-jawed, dimpled chinned man stood in the doorway, adjusting his cufflinks and smirking back at Aleksander.

"Ivan," Aleksander greeted him. Ivan Heart was the third and latest partner in Lantsov Morozova and Heart, the least successful lawyer of the three but the most connected.

And the most cocky.

"I'm surprised you're still here," Aleksander nodded at his colleague.

"I've got a date," Ivan confessed as he adjusted his tie.

Ivan was one of those men that collected young women. Always a new one every week, every one just as beautiful and young as the next.

"Are you taking her to Clock Bar?" Aleksander asked, referring to the bar he and his colleagues frequented. More deals were made in Clock Bar than in the court of law.

"Gotta see if she could handle the lifestyle," Ivan said, half yawning as he walked over to Aleksander's desk. "You should join us. Fedyor and a few other associates are already there."

Aleksander pointed at the piles of papers.

"I've got a case-"

"Always with the cases," Ivan cut in with a chuckle. "Come out, Aleksander, just once."

"I…"

"Oh please, Sash. I have plenty to do, too," Ivan said dismissively as he sat on Aleksander's sofa. "Come on. Take a night off."

"There's no such thing as a night off," Aleksander scoffed. And he was serious. He never found a space to stop. One case lead to another lead to another. Working used to keep his mind off of Luda. And after a decade of the constant grind, he knew no other way of living.

"I don't know how you don't do it." Ivan reclined on the couch. "Honestly, you're the richest man I know who never takes a vacation, drives a 2003 Prius, and still orders his clothes from Amazon. You gotta take a break sometime, Sash. Spend some of that hard-earned cash."

"I don't know how you do it," Aleksander offered, happy to change the subject. "How do you find time to meet all these women?"

Ivan threw his hands behind his head and gave Aleksander a sly expression, rolling his tongue inside his lips. "I use a service. You should try it."

"Like a matchmaker?" Aleksander asked, trying to not chuckle. "I don't know. I'm not really ready to-"

"Luda passed away eleven years ago, Sash," Ivan said, his voice turning serious. "I think you're ready."

Aleksander held his breath at hearing his late wife's name aloud, the reminder of how long it had been and the realization of how little he'd moved forward.

"Sorry," Ivan held his hands up to Aleksander in apology. "I don't mean to pry. And I'm not saying to have a relationship. I'm just saying…" he shook his head, searching for words. "Maybe have some fun."

"Work is fun," Aleksander said, crossing his arms and turning away towards the city lights. "There's a reason why I do it constantly."

"Sure," Ivan replied, the disbelief rich in his tone. "The service I use, it's a website. Younger women who want to be taken care of and men with money who want a pretty young thing. It's not a big deal. All the girls are vetted. Everyone knows what's expected. It's a nice clean transaction."

"You're talking about being a sugar daddy," Aleksander said, hoping Ivan was joking.

"That's exactly what I'm talking about," Ivan said. When Aleksander turned back with a scowl, he continued. "Oh, don't be like that, Sash. It's easier this way. We don't have time to have a relationship."

"It might work for you, but I'm not one to-"

"Tell you what, my friend," Ivan said as he stood. "Come down tonight. I have a new girl from the site I'm meeting. Just come and see. No big deal."

"I have work to do-"

"Sash," Ivan stood and clapped his hand on his friend's shoulder. "I'll help you with this in the morning. Just come down for a drink. Old times sake."

Aleksander hesitated.

"You look paler and more stressed than usual," Ivan insisted. "Something's up with you. At least one drink to calm your mind."

//

Aleksander walked into Clock Bar, happy for the dim lighting, the soft music, the gentle conversations. It made it easier for him to ease into doing something social. Not like he never went to Clock Bar. He was there at least twice a week to negotiate with other attorneys. But he never drank. It was always business. Aleksander didn't like how alcohol affected his ability to focus. But he did like how uncomfortable it made others to see him order a club soda with lime. How they didn't question why he didn't drink, no one dared ask if he had any vices.

Because his vice was power.

He immediately went to the bar and ordered an Old Fashioned, the bartender eyeing him tentatively.

"I'm taking the night off," Aleksander shrugged.

"Didn't know there was such a thing for you," the bartender shrugged back.

One drink. Aleksander was going to have one drink. Just to take the horny edge off. Ivan was right. Aleksander was more stressed than usual, and working through his wretched thoughts about his young housemate was just not working.

One drink, and he'd go home.

Aleksander took his cocktail and scanned the bar for Ivan and the other associates. He saw the men in Clock Bar dressed in their expensive suits, their luxury watches, all seeming to need them. To make an impression. Aleksander never felt that need. Not that he was above that, he felt like he was past it. His work, his reputation, all that was enough for him to throw around his weight. So there he was in his Old Navy khakis and white button-up from Amazon, old, scratched glasses Luda bought for him, and tattered oxfords.

And the whole bar stared in reverence.

Aleksander Morozova is here.

He finally turned his gaze to a corner of the bar, where he could see Fedyor's profile, Ivan's smile, and the back of a smaller girl, her long dark hair in pretty waves.

Aleksander approached them quickly, feeling the eyes of people in the bar. He was always aware of them but never acknowledged them. He saw the young woman giggle, and something about the shake in her shoulders felt familiar. The sound of her laugh, comforting. He held his breath, unsure why his cock throbbed under his pants.

"Ah, nice of you to join us, Sash," Ivan said easily as Aleksander approached. "Come meet my new friend, Alina."

“Alina?”

“Mr. Morozova?”

Alina clenched as she watched Aleksander’s corded throat thicken with tense muscle. The fire in his eyes said he was absolutely aware that she was here because of sugardaddymeet.com. Maybe Alina should have been horrified or scared, but all she felt was flush and excited. Her nipples pearled with his angry gaze.

It was just last night when they shared their forbidden moment, and she was starving for his adult touch. The graze of his fingers, the heat in his breath. She barely slept, barely thought about anything else but those ten minutes in his study, recounting every moment. Even as they stared at each other in shock in the bar, Alina’s body reacted to him, dampening her panties.

Aleksander stared straight into her. His dark eyes bore down so hard on her that he was starting to turn red. His eyes traveled downward at her outfit, and she was sure he would explode. The only thing she could find at the thrift store last minute was a little black dress with a wide keyhole bust and sheer fabric on the sides, accentuating her perky young breasts. She was practically in underwear with the halter neckline, open back, and micro skirt.

“You two know each other?” Ivan asked as he put up both of his hands in truce.

Alina sighed in relief at the loss of Ivan’s hand. He kept touching her, invading her space. And after last night, her body, heart, everything she had was Aleksander’s. Only for him.

So, when Alina agreed to the date, she hadn’t planned on doing anything sexual with Ivan. But as soon as he paid off the bartender to overlook Alina’s obvious youth and supplied her with a strong drink, she smelled a creep. Ivan was older, like Aleksander, and seemed friendly. Still, there was something else in his eyes, something harder and insistent. Entitled. Alina planned on gracefully leaving the date at the next polite moment. 

“You know Sash?” Ivan said, and this time Alina stirred enough to glance back at her date.

“Yes. He’s my-” Alina attempted to answer Ivan, but immediately she was pulled to her feet and into Aleksander’s arms.

She trembled, melting from his embrace.

Oh, Mr. Morozova.

Alina wrapped her arms around his strong neck, the scent of his soap filling her nostrils. She whined when he slid his thick and flexed arm around her waist and his tense hand on her shoulders. He was almost shaking from trying to control himself. Alina tilted her head at her protector and found him glaring at Ivan, shaking his head dismissively.

“She’s not one of your girls,” Aleksander rasped at the men in the booth.

“Sash, no problem-”

“Do not contact her.” The tone again. The black eyes. Alina swooned and held her breath when the men hushed. His power was making her quake.

Aleksander turned to her, and there was nothing, no one, no bar, no sounds. Just him. “Are you ok?”

“Yes.” She couldn’t help her baby voice. It was automatic now. “I’m ok, Mr. Morozova.”

Their torsos were pressed together so tightly that she could immediately feel Aleksander’s cock become solid and hard. Alina watched the flex in his jaw, the puff in his chest when he inhaled.

“You’re barely wearing anything,” his eyes were a mix of accusatory and hunger. “You…” he struggled to find words as Alina leaned her body against his thick cock. “Let’s get out of here. You can’t just walk around like this.”

Aleksander pulled away but kept an arm around her, doing his best to cover Alina with his own body as they exited the bar.

“Where did you get this outfit? Victoria’s Secret?” He asked, frustrated as they walked onto the street. “You look like a…”

“A what?” Alina smirked. 

Spunky.

“Nothing,” he whispered thickly as he directed them away from the bar.

“What do I look like, Mr. Morozova?” She pried, husky and whispery. Seductress. “A slut?”

She nuzzled into his body, letting the bare section of her tits push up against him. 

“Fuck,” he muttered, the word surprising her. Aleksander never cursed. “Yes.” His voice was pained and shaky. “And maybe…” He took a breath, his dark tone starting to seep into his voice. Aleksander pulled her closer as they walked down the street. “You want to be treated like one.”

His hand slid down her waist and to the plump of her ass, giving it a firm squeeze, just once. One perfect squeeze, and he jerked his hand back. “Jesus, Alina. I’m so sorry.” He pulled himself away and stalked ahead of her. “We’ve got to cover you up. You can’t walk the streets of the city like that.”

Lonely for him already, Alina talked back. Maybe at least he’d stop walking. “But I was going to leave the bar and go home. I’m out on the streets because you pulled me out.”

Aleksander did not stop. Instead, he walked up to a building, punched in a code, and opened the door.

“We were right next door to my office, Milaya,” Aleksander said gently as he nodded towards the inside. “Let’s get you upstairs. I have my gym clothes in there we can change you into, and we’ll take you home.”

He walked her inside to an elevator, pushed the up button, and took a breath before saying, “You are not to contact Ivan ever again, no one at that booth, no one in that bar for that matter.” The elevator door opened, and Alina giggled as he pulled her inside.

“Why not?” She teased with her smirk, her baby voice. “I’m just making friends.”

Aleksander surprised her when he turned suddenly, gripped her waist, and pushed her into the side of the elevator, his face so close she could feel his breath on her cheeks. “Those are bad men. They see you as a piece of meat. Just a hole to be fucked. Especially dressed like this. They’ll say you’re asking for it.”

His giant body pressed against her so tight, she could feel his hard length on her belly. Alina trembled as her cunt clenched greedily for him. “So?”

“So they don’t deserve you, Milaya.” She could die in that elevator with his hard cock jutting into her, the affectionate name whispered into her face. “I swear to God that I will destroy their careers if they even look like they are thinking about you.”

“Why would you go through so much trouble, Mr. Morozova?” Alina pouted, biting her bottom lip and pressing against his throbbing cock. “Is it because I’m your Milaya and no one else’s?”

He was so worked up that he couldn’t even compute the word yes, something she’s sure in her heart that he wanted to say. Instead, the elevator doors opened. Aleksander clasped his giant hand around hers and led her down the dark hall to his office. They walked quickly and silently until he got her safely in his own space and closed the door behind him.

Aleksander’s office had one dim light on, but Alina could see how sophisticated and elegant it was. Much nicer than his plain study at home, probably because he had actual people go to his office. The city lights twinkled from the corner windows, illuminating the space to show his big desk full of papers, shelves stacked with file boxes, all a little open and messy. She recognized how his office was impressive, but he kept it functional and workable, a space for him to get things done.

“I want you to take out your phone and delete your account,” Aleksander commanded as he walked up to her and tugged at her purse. “Do it now, Milaya.”

Alina handled her purse, ready to cancel her profile on the website but soon realized she had leverage with the profile. She could use this to her advantage, and if he wanted her to take it down, he’d have to give her something in return. 

She just had to have the nerve to get what she wanted.

Spunky. I’m supposed to be spunky.

“No,” Alina whispered defiantly as she let go of her purse. “I’m not taking it down” And she lifted her chin to meet his eyes, “You’re not my father. You can’t tell me what to do.”

“MILAYA.” The tone was out again, and Alina shuddered as her cunt ached for him. “I will not have every arrogant prick in the city trying to fuck my little girl’s precious pussy. And if you’re not going to take it down, maybe you need a father to discipline you into doing the right thing. Take it down.” His voice was a growl in her belly. “Or I will punish you.”

“What if I want an arrogant prick to fuck my precious pussy?” Alina fluttered her eyelashes at him as she teased. She sucked in a breath to say one more thing, but she had no time. Aleksander stepped behind her and pushed her face down into his desk so quickly that she scrambled to dampen the crash with her arms. 

And then Aleksander did something that made Alina believe God existed.

Aleksander smacked her ass so hard the tension in her belly quaked and released, a harsh climax flying out of her body like an electric shock. A resounding clap echoed in his office, followed by his harsh growl.

“Mr. Morozova…” she whined, her cunt dripping with slick.

“Fucking slut,” he hissed, and Alina’s heart beat wildly in her chest, excitement coursing through her in deep, surging waves. Aleksander yanked her skirt over her waist and spanked again on her bare ass, smacking her arousal all over his fingers. “You will take it down, Milaya. You will do it right now or so help me God, I will not stop punishing you until your ass is so red and welted you can’t sit for a fucking week, you hear me?”

“But…” Alina sputtered, the agreement to do whatever he wanted teeming in her throat. Almost everything she’d ever wanted was happening, and she could faint from happiness.

Almost everything.

“No,” her baby voice, stubborn and pouty. “Keep on spanking me, Mr. Morozova. I won’t do it.”

“I don’t understand.” Alina could hear the choked tension in his voice as he stood up behind her. Aleksander pushed his legs behind hers, and Alina pressed back, hoping to feel his hard shaft on her skin. “If you need money, you can just ask me. Have I not given you everything you’ve ever asked of me?”

Aleksander was always there for Alina when she needed him. She tried to keep it to a minimum. He was a busy man. But when he could get away with it, he was generous with his money and time. Still, Alina was always taught to work for her own money. She couldn’t possibly ask him to pay for her to stay in San Francisco. Not without some way to work it off or pay him back. No way.

“Mr. Morozova,” Alina said softly. “It’s not a small amount of money. Mom is making me move to Mexico, and I don’t want to go. I want to stay here with my friends. And I’ll miss you, Mr. Morozova. I don’t want to leave my home, but you know how expensive it is to live here. I can’t ask you to help me with that. It’s too much. Mom wouldn’t like it.”

Aleksander stepped away from her, leaving her thighs bare and tingly from his absence. And after a beat too long, the only thing he did was sigh.

Oh no, I ruined it. Alina was supposed to be Spunky Seductress, not Damsel in Distress! Panicking to get back the momentum they had just a moment ago, Alina said the first thing that came to mind.

“So I’ll fuck whoever I want,” she arched her back, trying to show off her ass. “Wear whatever I want, and I’ll display my body…” arching her back deeper. “For whatever rich man I want because I am not a child. Mr. Morozova. I will stay in San Francisco and will do whatever it takes-”

“You will do no such thing, young lady.” He leaned over her, gripped the back of Alina’s neck, and pushed her face into his desk so hard and fast she got the wind knocked out of her. “This,” he spanked her, delicious thrilling stings pricking her skin. He kept his hand on her this time, gripping her cheeks, rough and aggressive. “This behavior is not like you. Prancing around in these little clothes? This is not my Milaya. Going on dates with men for money? Not my Alina. And…” he smoothed his fingers down her asscheek, closing his hand around her thigh and nuzzling his face in her hair. “That stunt in my study?” She felt his whisper in her head, and she shut her eyes to keep it inside her. “Showing me your tight teenage titties? Not like you at all. You’re acting like a filthy whore, little girl.”

Alina arched her back again, grinding her pussy against his shaft. He surprised her when he pressed himself against her. “And you, Mr. Morozova,” she said between needy gasps. “Are acting like an arrogant prick.”

“Take it down, Alina,” he said as he gently pulled her purse from her shoulder and took out her phone. “You want to stay in San Francisco? I’ll make sure of it. I’ll pay for everything, Milaya.” He leaned down into her, his face near her ear, sucking in a breath and smoothing his hand over her bare ass to soothe. “You don’t have to do this. Take down that profile.”

“But,” Alina sighed as his fingertips grazed her stinging cheeks. “I can’t just let you pay for things, Mr. Morozova. You’ve done enough for me. I have to work for it.”

“No, you don’t,” he said urgently. “You don’t have to do a goddamn thing, Milaya. Just be your perfect little self, and I’ll take care of you.”

Alina bit her lip, suppressing a grin.

Bingo.

“That sounds like you’re asking me to be your sugar baby,” and she held her breath.

When Aleksander fell silent again, Alina searched for words to say and was interrupted when she was yanked up by a strong hand and spun around. Aleksander’s eyes were intense as he pulled her up on his desk, her bare ass on stacks of paper. 

“No,” Aleksander growled, his black eyes hungry as they swept over her body. “That’s not what this is. I’m not going to be some old pervert, buying you diamonds and cars so you’ll fuck me.”

She held steady, keeping her eyes innocent and wide. “I’m not just going to take your money. I’m going to earn it. And if you don’t want to have a clean transaction like this, I can find someone who can-”

“Alina, please stop.” His voice was so ragged, body hard and tense, so desperate, and Alina could hardly wait to give him release.

Heart like a drum in her chest, Alina slowly pulled her feet up to his desk and spread her legs apart, displaying her slippery, bald, wet cunt.

Aleksander could only stare, heaving heavy breaths, jaw dropped and eyes hooded.

“Fuck Alina.” His chest trembled as he spoke. “I’m hard as a rock. You need to stop.”

She could feel her pussy drip with arousal, and he whispered a nice long fuuuuck as he watched. 

“Tight virgin pussy,” Alina whispered. “Worth so much money. Enough to keep me in my city.”

She pulled up her skirt, taking the entire dress off and baring her entire body. Aleksander tugged at his pants, trying to adjust his growing member, panting, “Holy fucking shit, Milaya…”

“Barely legal, never been touched titties,” she shook them playfully. “I bet I can get a condo in Haight Ashbury for these girls.”

Alina sat up straight and let her legs dangle off the edge of the desk as she reached for him, circling her hand around his wrist like she did last night.

“I know what I’m worth, Mr. Morzova,” she whispered, getting so close she brushed his ear with her lips.

“Can’t… we can’t…” But even as he said it, Aleksander stepped forward and scratched his fingers on her forearm, tickling her.

“What’s wrong?” Alina let her free hand trail between his legs and palm his hard erection. “Don’t you want me? Don’t you want your Milaya?”

“Alina,” he growled, and he pulled his hand away from hers to grip her waist, hoping to still her. Instead, she gripped his giant length with both her hands, feeling the damp spot of precum soaking his zipper. “Please don’t, Alina. I’m like your father.”

“I’ve never thought of you as my father,” Alina’s lips grazed his cheeks. “But if you fuck me, I’ll call you Daddy. And Daddy can do whatever he wants to me.”

Alina held her breath as she watched Aleksander’s body loosen, his face soften, and his eyes darken. He brought his hands to her waist and pulled her towards him, her sex almost touching his clothed cock. So close, she could feel his heat on her wet flesh.

And she went in for the kill. In her best baby voice:

“Come on, Mr. Morozova,” she purred. “You deserve it.”

“Fuck, this is a mistake.” It was a release, and Aleksander’s biceps bulged as he pulled her body against him hard, thrusting the zipper of his pants against her and then rolling his hips, his big body solid over hers. Alina shuddered violently at the feeling of his large shaft, the dampness of his precum pooling the front of his pants, the friction of it all on her cunt. She threw her head back with a loud moan.

“O-oh my god Mr. Morozova…” Alina shuddered, losing herself to his rhythm. “Mister-”

“No,” he growled as he held her jaw with his thumb and forefinger, keeping her gaze on his dark eyes. “You started this. You finish it. You don’t call me Mister.”

“D-daddy?” Alina pouted.

“Goddamn, that sounds so good out of your baby mouth,” He rasped as he jutted his hips and grinded against her soft pussy. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Alina. Every last inch of you, baby.”

“Th-thank you, Daddy,” Alina sighed joyfully. And she felt it. His hard stare on her body, her tits bouncing, her cunt wet and smooth, skin supple and tight under him, Aleksander Morozova, her dream man. She really felt beautiful.

And Aleksander smiled, something he rarely did. Alina’s heart felt like it stopped when she saw his rugged grin. She couldn’t help herself. Alina threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. The taste of him, a little whiskey, a little vanilla, all man. His beard scratched her cheeks, and she opened her mouth to him, sucking back on his hot tongue, needing more and more of him, losing herself, intoxicating herself, and falling deeper into her neediness for Aleksander.

Oh, Mr. Morozova.

“You want money, Milaya?” Aleksander gritted out as he pulled back for air, straightened up, and reached for his wallet. “How much does bathing your tight little body with my cum cost, huh?”

His words sent a shiver through Alina, from her scalp to her toes. Heat bloomed between her legs, her clit swelling and sensitizing as he thrust her.

Aleksander kept grinding against her as he pulled out a fat stack of cash, and Alina whined at the deep shudder in her belly at the sight of all that money in one place.

“You fucking golddigger, I see that,” he chuckled at her and plucked a hundred dollar bill from the stack and tossed it down on her tits. She jolted against him as she smelled the fresh scent of money in the air. More bills rained on her as he humped against her pussy, her hard bundle of nerves rubbing against the zipper of his pants. “You want to be a rich man’s pussy? You want to be owned, baby?”

“Yes,” Alina quaked as he tossed more money on her, and her sight turned white, her nerve endings hot like fire. Aleksander leaned into her and pressed on her shoulders as his movements hastened, rapid-fire and animalistic.

“Call me it again then, Milaya.”

“Daddy,” she whimpered. He buried his face in her neck, kissing her hard and sloppy, slid his hands to her tits, and pinched her sensitive nipples, and the hot pool in her belly exploded as she came. “Daddy… oh please, Daddy. Please don’t stop Daddy daddy daddy…”

“Good girl,” Aleksander gritted. “Coming so pretty for Daddy.” 

And when she was an entire body of tingles and bonelessness, she felt him slow to a stop. Alina opened her eyes to him, seeing Aleksander undoing his belt and quickly pulling his cock out of his pants. She watched as he beat himself for barely four pumps and erupted ropes of cum all over her. On top of his hundreds of dollars, puddling over Alina’s pussy, shooting hard and far up to her cheeks and hair. He groaned as he came. “Milaya…” And with a deep shudder, he was through. She was soaked with his cum, covered in money and panting back at his face.

She smiled up at him when he propped himself on his elbows, still breathless and cummed out.

“Mine,” he whispered as he rubbed his nose on hers. He cupped her cunt with his hot hand and repeated. “This is mine.”

“Really?” Alina thought she might be coming again. “Really, Mr. Morozova? You’re gonna be my Sugar Daddy? Really?”

“Yes,” he stood and helped her sit up, shuffling the cum-covered cash to the side. “Now, please, Milaya. Take down your profile.”

She picked up her phone, and her presence on sugardaddyselect.com was deleted.

“Now what?” Alina asked, feeling dumb and drunk with Daddy.

“I want you to take this cash,” he said as he fisted the wad of cummed-on bills and stuffed them into her hands. “It’s yours until I can get you a credit card, your own place, and take care of all the arrangements.”

Alina’s heart started to drop at the black and white transaction of it all. She hoped he’d already been in love after this tryst, but he wasn’t. Still, she kept her face bright and happy. It was too early to have everything she wanted.

She could wait. They had time now.

“Ok, Daddy,” she whispered.

He smiled that rugged smile that she never got enough of, and she winked back at him.

“Mine,” he repeated as he pressed a hundred-dollar bill over her cunt. “No one else.”

Oh, Mr. Morozova.

THE END