Shorts and Commissions - A Book of Random Writings

Jimin - Weak pt.4

"Yes, Daddy."

Jimin barked out a laugh, slapping you on the ass, "Please stop calling me that," he shook his head, "Daddy is for one-timers. Not for you, Little One."

He kissed you deeply, letting you go so you could tie up loose ends while he cleaned up. You delivered his messages to Namjoon, both about going home early and the money he'd get for your time, as well as about the room being purchased until the next morning. You received a concerned look at the info, but you assured him that you were fine, and conceded to his promise to send him your GPS location when you got to where you were going. Your mind wasn't at all entirely present as you went about gathering your things and saying your goodbyes, your thoughts continuously drifting back to Jimin's last words.

'Daddy is for one-nighters. Not for you, Little One."

You weren't a thousand percent sure what he'd meant by that, and the possibilities were making your head spin. If you were honest with yourself, whether he meant to be a regular customer, a regular fuckbuddy, or something akin to a boyfriend...you were in. You were still deep into your thoughts hen you exited the employee prep room, almost bumping into Jimin in your daze.

"Hey there," he laid his hands on your waist to steady you, "You doing okay?" He looked into your eyes with genuine concern, "We don't have to leave, you know. We can stay here and get to know each other more."

"No!" you blurted out, louder than intended, laughing after, "I mean, no, it's fine." You blushed, but forced yourself to look up at him, "I want to go with you."

Jimin sighed in relief, kissing the top of your head sweetly and leading you out of the club and to his car. The ride wasn't very long, but Jimin made the most of it. He asked you about yourself, your history and your likes and dislikes, all while stealing kisses at stop lights and never letting his hand leave your knee. He held your hand, brushing his thumb over your knuckles in a romantic gesture as you walked through the parking garage of the condo complex and rode the elevator to the top floor, opening doors and waiting for you to enter first like a perfect gentleman.

You gaped at the opulent and modern interior of his penthouse, loving the mix of technology and homey warmth that exuded from all corners, "Your home is beautiful," you breathed out, eyes wide as you took it all in.

"I worked hard," he admitted, "But now I make a decent living as a PR consultant," he smiled proudly as you gave him an adoring look, "It's part of the perks of the species, being able to read people and spin words," he gave you a little wink, "But I do have a double major in Marketing and Communications to back it up."

You couldn't help but laugh at his natural charm, the lilt of his voice, his casual mannerisms, making you feel familiar and comfortable You began to think that he had lost track of the reason he had brought you home in the first place, but you were enjoying your time all the same. 

Your thoughts corrected as you began to hear the thrum of sexy r&b bass come through the sound system of the house. 

You spun around, grinning as you looked at Jimin, his eyes twinkling, "This is one  of my favorite songs," you giggled, "How did you know?"

"Of the three times I have seen you dance on stage," he chuckled at your surprised gasp, "This song was in all of the sets, regardless of what your theme was or other songs involved." He stepped to the fridge, opening it, "Yes, I paid attention, and definitely yes, I was watching."

He pulled a bottle of rose' out of the icebox, holding it up for your approval. It wasn't as expensive as the label from your work, but definitely not cheap. You nodded, letting your eyes drop as he turned around to get two flutes from an upper cupboard, allowing them to linger on the roundness of his ass under the tight red fabric of his slacks. Your mouth watered and fingers itched, the need to sink your teeth and nails into the ripe flesh making you dizzy.