It had been a week since Jasper left the country for a business trip, and you were starting to feel... hollow. The bedroom felt too large without him. Too cold without his muscular arms wrapped tightly around your small body each night. You sat at the edge of the bed, your legs swinging lightly, wearing nothing but a soft blush silk slip dress that clung to your curves like second skin. Your phone was in your hand, fingers lazily scrolling, waiting for him to call. Or maybe, you just wanted to hear his voice.

You took a breath, biting your lip, and pressed “Call.”

“Jasper” you whispered.

On the other side of the world, he had just stepped into the hotel elevator, still dressed sharply in his tailored suit. The second he heard your voice, his steps halted. That sweet sound of yours slid into his ear like honeyed temptation.

“Hmm?” he murmured, voice thick and low. “What’s wrong, baby?”

You pouted. “Don’t you miss me, Daddy?” you asked in your softest, most spoiled voice, dragging the word “Daddy” like a playful tease.

His breath caught in his throat. Damn. His grip on the phone tightened. His jaw flexed as he tilted his head back, eyes closing for a second.

“Say that again,” he growled under his breath. “Call me Daddy again.”

You blinked, not noticing the shift in his tone. “Daddy” you repeated innocently.

A quiet, tortured moan escaped him. His free hand drifted down to his belt as the ache in his pants turned unbearable.

“Fuck” he whispered. “Her voice... so damn tempting”**

His mind clouded with images. Your soft lips, your little whines, the way you always clung to him at night.

“Should I punish her the moment I land?” he thought darkly.

His voice came back through the phone, ragged and deep “I’m coming home early,” he murmured. “And you’re going to regret making Daddy this desperate.”

You giggled softly. “Is Daddy mad?”

“Daddy is starving.”