Daddys little bait, p.1

Daddy's Little Bait, page 1


Daddy's Little Bait

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Daddy's Little Bait

  Daddy’s Little Bait

  Celia Crown

  Copyright © 2019 by Celia Crown

  All rights reserved.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are from the author's imagination or folklore, legends, and general myths.

  The book or any portion of the book may not be reproduced or used under any circumstances, except with the written permission from the author. Public names, movies, televisions, and locales, or any references are used for atmospheric purposes. Any similarities and resemblances to alive or dead people, events, brands, and locales are all complete coincidences.

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  Cover Editor: Designrans

  Editor: Michelle Sealy


  Daddy’s Little Bait


  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten


  Author’s other works!

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  Daddy’s Little Bait

  by Celia Crown


  I have been watching her. For the past six months, I have been learning her habits, routine, and disposing of those who came too close to what’s mine.

  Being a two-time convicted felon doesn’t allow much room for freedom, and one more strike would land me a life in prison without parole stamp on my record.

  Just one more job and I would go into hiding until the heat dies down.

  She is supposed to be a piece in my plan, a disposable component that somehow wormed her way into my ice-cold heart, and in some twisted way, I fell in love.

  She became everything, and the stakes are at the highest now.

  I can’t lose her.


  Life is great. As great as it can be when I get kidnapped in my own home with my roommate right next door.

  I don’t know what I did wrong to get into this situation, but the man, albeit a little too handsome, is grouchy and scarily mean.

  He leaves me in the dark, chained to a worn bed in an abandoned hospital.

  He said that all I needed to do is to be a good little girl and he wouldn’t hurt me too much, they aren’t exactly comforting words for an eighteen-year-old girl.

  For someone who is going to kill me after all of this is done because I saw his face, he has a strange obsession with me.

  He treats me better than a prisoner, but his words and actions are rough and cruel.

  It’s too confusing.

  WARNING: This contains sensitive material that will be triggering to some, reader discretion is advised. Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, and Stockholm Syndrome.

  Chapter One


  Day after day, I know her better than she knows herself.

  My little Romy needs me and that is a fact that I’m willing to bet my life on.

  She’s so tiny; she would fit perfectly into my arms with those big doe-eyes innocently gazing at me. Her size alone is enough to bring this ferocious animal that is innated in me to bare its fangs at foolish men who think they can put their filthy hands on what’s mine, but it’s her smile that takes my heart in her little hands.

  Without me watching over her, she would have been in the hands of some unsavory low lives.

  She is lucky to have me.

  A guardian to watch over her, although a devil would be more fitting.

  I’m not an angel with fucking white wings and a stick body that is easily broken, I’m a devil with sin written on my skin and a pair of bloodied hands made to snap the wings of freedom off Romy.

  Once I have her, she will no longer be herself, but to obey my commands. I will train her to listen to my words as I will be her whole world and guidance; Romy will soon become my little good girl.

  It shouldn’t take too much force to break her willpower as watching her routine and habits has aided this process to go a lot smoother with the plan in my head.

  I needed someone for a heist and she landed in my lap with one photograph by one of my men who took the initial scouting step. I knew Romy was the one, she is meant to cross my path and ignite this fiery obsession that burns my black soul to ashes.

  I personally trailed her and I’d be damned if anyone from the group took a liking towards her. I didn’t give them permission to put their eyes on her, and I won’t allow their minds to even wander.

  I run a tight ship; any mishaps will result in severe punishment. I’m not afraid to kill the weakest link in my group if they think about pulling out or going to the police as I am sure they learned that a long time ago when the group was still forming and getting the best talents.

  One woman, a brilliant forensic expert but too righteous, thought her morals couldn’t be compromised because she was helping people, but that was wrong. I had to dispose of her immediately and put her in a drum filled with acid to melt her down before throwing her into the ocean.

  I let her sleep with the whale, maybe she got into the whale’s stomach. Who knows, but she is gone now and there’s no use dwelling on the past when I have more pressing matters to attend to.

  The heat from the FBI had been turning up and this will be the last job for a while, I want to let the cavalry die down until all the trails run cold. I have been working with these men and women for years now, I know how they operate and they all know the exit plan.

  One rule that I have is that talking means torture, and betrayal means death.

  I have no emotional connection towards them as they are also part of the pieces in a chess board. Replacing them would be a pain in the ass, but it’s better to do that than doing time in prison when I can be planning the next big heist.

  I can physically form bonds with these people, but one look at Romy Quinn, and I was attracted to that youthful innocence.

  She looked better in real life than I expected, and she was very predictable by the first week I stalked her under surveillance.

  By nine in the morning, she would be out the door to work at an office building as a media consultant. It’s a position that got her immediately hired with the skills she has accumulated throughout her years of working when she was still in school.

  I felt a spark of proudness for her, my eyes wouldn’t wrong me when it comes to someone I have become infatuated with.

  The team of best men and women can attest to that.

  Ten years of bank robberies, over nine hundred million dollars split five ways, and we have never been close to being caught.

  Just one more job of a hundred million and we would break the million glass.

  She would sometimes go outside to buy lunch if she woke up late; I had the advantage of watching her get dressed and out the door in a hurry. Romy would look fuckable and adorable at the same time, and that is virtually impossible, but she is able to pull that off easily.

  When she gets off of work, she goes straight home. She doesn’t have friends and that is a good thing for me, in the aspects of the job and my personal benefits. The only people in her life are her parents in a different state and a roommate, but I can take on the tall gangly roommate with one punch.

  I’d put him through the walls.

  It didn’t sit well with me when I found out she had a male roommate as I want to be the only one to be able to see what her face looks like in the morning and see her in her natural setting.

  I pushed that thought to the side because I had a job to do and I can’t fuck this up.

  In the six months of surveillance, I never approa
ched her for once and that was getting me anxious. I needed to touch her or else I would go insane. My partners in crime had been dealing with my erratic temper and occasional irrational outburst of fury as I’m known to have a short temper and an even shorter tolerance for things that I want but are not in my hands.

  It’s contradicting to my chosen criminal profession.

  A thief with a backup plan to the end of the alphabet and a foolproof plan A, I always ensure to have the team do three dry runs to be sure that we have our backs covered.

  The plan had been set a year in advance, working our way through the details and the larger puzzle pieces before going deep into the nitty details that could break or make this heist.

  The last puzzle that would bring this whole thing together is Romy Quinn.

  In hindsight, it wouldn't make sense in the eyes of government agents, but they will probably make sense of it after the whole thing dies down.

  For now, I’m initiating the plan to start at the stroke of midnight.

  It is twenty minutes from now. Standing at the edge of her bed, gazing down on her vulnerable form flushes my body with a sense of wickedness that threatens to consume me. It would be so easy to pry her legs open and slip between them, feel her warm body struggling against my older and bigger one, and see the terror etched on her teary eyes.

  A despicable man I am, but one can't change the nature they inherited.

  Breaking into the apartment is almost too mature for a professional like me; no security cameras or heavy-duty locks, no pets, and no alarms. It’s too dangerous for her to be out in the open like this, and her useless roommate isn’t strong enough to fight off a bug if he wanted to.

  I’m doing her a favor; she should thank me later when she realizes that I’m not a threat to her. It’s in human nature for women to be afraid of men; it’s a conditioned response that has been going on for centuries.

  I doubt that the newest wave of women rising in power could easily wipe away the ingrained condition in their minds.

  I could raise my voice just a pitch and she’d be terrified.

  That’s exactly what I want; I want her to be afraid of me. I want her to look at me and wonder if I’ll ever raise a hand to her and snap her neck in half or torture her fragile body for sick pleasure.

  Grazing her soft cheek, relishing in the way she turns her face towards my hand. She doesn’t know that a vile man is in her room, watching her sleep and is able to do something to her and yet, she remains a docile little girl in her dreamland.

  I hate to wake her up from whatever dream she is having, but this will be our first meeting and I can't wait any longer.

  I have been waiting for six months of constant yearning to feel what her skin would do if I were to put just an ounce of strength in my hands.

  Would she cry or would she fight?

  I can't wait to find out.

  Taking out a duffle bag to put on the ground, I go about removing her clothes from the closet and drawer. I rummage through her underwears, pocketing two of them and shoving some hazardously into the duffle bag. The noises I make are almost nonexistent, but the zipper does make her shift in her bed.

  Then I mess around with her room, set things on the side and around the ground in an effort to make it look like her room has been tossed or it was done in a struggle.

  The adrenaline kicks in and my lips pull into a grin; I’m drenching a cloth with chloroform as the pungent scent waft through my nose. It’s repulsive, but she’ll have to deal with it as whatever I’m doing is for her own good.

  As I have said before, this is all for her own good because who told her to be a lonely girl in the big city without protection.

  I will be her protector from now on and she doesn’t have a say in it, she wouldn’t know what’s best for her even if it hits her in the face.

  I kneel on top of her, curling my hand over her neck and squeeze. The shock of my hand cutting off her air makes her eyes flash open and in a daze of panic, she claws at my wrist and chokes with a meek protest.

  “Hello, little girl.” I grin.

  Delicious fear clouds her eyes, her face twists into fright as my hand refuses to relent as I shove the cloth over her nose and mouth. The more she struggles to find breath from my grip, the faster she inhales the chloroform and the faster I can get her out of here.

  I couldn’t help but want her to see me before she gets knocked out, and watching the lights fade in her gleaming eyes before her lashes flutter shut and shoots a sensation of exhilaration into my cock.

  Whatever she is experiencing, I’m there with her and I’m feeling it by multiplying that with my own sick desire.

  “Just go back to sleep, I’m here,” I whisper, nipping the shell of her ear and her head rolls to the side.

  Her hands fall limp and the slight burn of red lines on the back of my hand is evident of her fight. I never expected her to fight too much, her strength can’t be matched with mine and over the course of the six months of surveillance, I have never seen her lift anything that weighs more than a brown bag of groceries.

  I chuck the cloth to the ground as an evidence for the police to find and I don’t have to worry about the DNA I leave since it’s going to be destroyed and compromised by the chloroform. The two incidents that landed me in prison are fights that I engaged in when I was younger, so there was no need for them to take my DNA.

  Without any DNA to connect me to the crime, it’s hard for the FBI to know who they are searching for even though I’m right under their noses.

  I fit her arms into the sleeves of a sweater I found laying around, throwing the duffle back over my shoulder and pulling her little body to mine. I stand there and feel the heat of her pussy searing on top of my cock as I move her legs around my waist, crushing her ass on my forearm as I clench her thigh.

  She’s limp and out of the world when I steal her away from the comfort of her home where she thought she was safe from monsters, but monsters have hands and a knack for breaking into homes.

  Out cold she is, but her body still reacts to the cold room and my high body temperature. She whimpers, unable to move her body but she makes distressed noises in my ear. Adjusting her on my arm, I use my other hand to slide into her nightshirt and caress her frail skin. She sighs and melts into my body, off to another round of unbreakable dreams.

  “We’re going home, little girl,” I purr, turning to walk out of her room and pass the roommate’s door.

  My boots make a creak on the wooden floor as it’s old and well worn but still sturdy.

  “Daddy’s going to take good care of you.”

  I made sure to keep my car under the streetlight that has been broken for a while now and the city won't fix it, and the neighbors in this area aren’t much of help and they aren’t nosy since I have been scoping her place for months and no one had called the police on me.

  Though, my surveillance takes place in different angles to switch up the routine so no one can predict me.

  If one neighbor happens to look out the door and see me carrying Romy then it would be better, they will call the police in the morning when they realize that something was off about a man carrying a girl at night to his car.

  As I said, they aren’t too invested in the neighborhood watch to care much of what goes on in the streets or inside other houses.

  I move fast, it’s better to avoid being seen too long in the neighborhood with the risk increasing every second. I put Romy into the backseat of my car and turn her to face the seat while tossing the duffle back on her leg, I rub her thigh and get a feel of her supple skin before yanking her hood up and burying her face into the cushion.

  Running back to my side, I turn my head around the neighborhood to see if anything is out of the ordinary, but I find nothing so I turn the engine on and jet out of the area.

  I avoided any street lights with cameras; it’s part of the homework I had to do before I could get my hands on Romy. All my work would have gone down the drain if I got
caught on camera when that could have been prevented, I did not take this big risk to be busted on some street light violation.

  Steering through the empty and ghostly empty streets, I glance back to her sleeping body a couple of times to make sure everything is going according to the plan.

  Deep down, I knew this is not the plan I had in mind.

  I wanted to use a girl as a distraction to the bank heist, but then Romy got my attention. Nevertheless, I can make this work as I’m used to improvising along the way because robbing banks is a risky business that needs constant attention to details and an exit plan.

  Getting to the destination is easy, but getting out of the car is hard when I palm my cock through my pants to get rid of the tension building up in my stomach. I’m so hard that it hurts, too thick to be contained behind the teeth of the zippers.

  I have to relieve the pressure before I do something I’ll regret with her, breaking her mentality would be much more satisfying when she’s awake and aware of her surroundings.

  Taking my cock out through the zipper, I pull a pair of frilly laced underwear from my pocket and push my nose against the area where her pussy lays. I can smell a faint scent of her through the laundry detergent, my cock throbs painfully in my hand as I stroke faster.

  I’m too wounded up to take my time, but that doesn’t mean I can’t imagine the tightness of her cunt struggling to accommodate my thick cock when I part her little unused hole.

  She would be begging through the whole thing, begging me to stop and let her go while I fuck through her questionable mindset and she would be pleading with me to fill her tiny pussy with my cum until she is full and leaking.

  I bring the soft material down to my cock and wrap the panties around me, rubbing the scratchy material on my sensitive shaft while the head leaks precum down. Soaking her underwear drives me to fuck my fist fast and harder, I toss my head back and groan loudly.

  Covering the cockhead with the panties, I spill my seed in thick spurts and rocky breaths that make my balls tremble.

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