Tom Hardy Imagines

Alfies little pet Part 2

Ollie opened the door without hesitation, before only briefly looking toward you. He knew better than to stare. The last man who'd stared at you, the first time you'd been brought around to the shop, had lost a finger. Nobody knew the whole story or what the truth was seeing as gossip tended to change the actual facts, but from what most people heard, Alfie had been so livid that one of his employees was ogling his girl, he'd sliced the man's middle finger off without hesitation. Others said that the employee wasn't paying attention to what he was doing, too captivated by the sight of you and when he'd realized he was being murdered by a set of blue eyes across the room, he'd been startled and realized he hadn't been paying attention to his task for the machinery removed his finger. The truth didn't really matter, Alfie was in every different scenario.

"Morning, Mr. Solomons. Came to remind you of your appointment with Sabini today. Should be here in an hour or two." The boy told his boss clearly. His hand lifted to the collar of his white shirt, adjusting the thing without too much thought. Most men fidgeted when speaking to your daddy and you didn't blame them — not in the slightest. Alfie hadn't been able to tear his gaze away from you until the mention of Darby Sabini was brought to light. Alfie growled out quietly. He'd completely forgotten about that.

The floorboards thudded dully beneath the gangster's footsteps. His brown boots, laced poorly and torn on the sides, caused the contents on the desk to rattle visibly. Lifting yourself off of the sofa so you could catch the picture frame that wiggled too close to the edge, you stiffened almost instantly beneath Alfie's gaze. It was penetrating and curious, demanding to know what you were doing. He'd told you to stay on the sofa and now, here you were, sauntering across the room toward his desk. Clutching your coat securely around your body, your eyes lifted to the man as he continued to stare.

"I'm just grabbing the photo before it falls." Your usual soft, sweet tone had been replaced with one that sounded a lot more normal. Nobody in the workplace knew about the fact that Alfie was an absolute slut for being called daddy and you were his pathetically sweet little girl. Biting on your bottom lip as you snatched the frame from the table, you folded the back of it flat and set it in the center, before moving over to the sofa and settling back down. His eyes finally left you when you were situated back on the fluffy cushions.

"If that's all, Ollie, you'd best be on your way, right. You run up here, yeah, right before Sabini and hit the door three times, mate." His hand waved Ollie away without hesitation. The tall, brunette in the doorway tipped his head in understanding before slowly backing out of the room. He closed the door quietly and trudged down the stairs to stand guard at the front. Alfie looked to you the second the lad was gone. "You, yeah." He pointed toward you. "What are you playing at? Getting up like that, yeah, when Ollie's in the fucking room. I told you to sit, didn't I?" Your brows lifted as you became the instant target for his frustration. You knew he was bothered because Sabini was coming and you weren't tucked away in the safety of his home.

"Sorry, daddy." You whispered underneath your breath in attempt to make the man feel even just a sliver of regret for speaking to you the way he was. He wasn't shouting, but his tone was stern and it really didn't need to be. "I.. thought the photo was going to fall and break." Alfie inhaled deeply before looking toward the picture that resides inside the glass. It was a photo of the pair of you from the previous year. His hand lifted to the back of his head, short nails scraping his scalp as he approached the couch. Lowering himself down at your side, he sat directly on top of all of the paperwork and moved his hand to your cheek. Guiding you forward and toward him, his lips pressed against yours for a few seconds before he mumbled out a soft apology against your lips. Alfie's lips were tender and warm, and when he kissed you, he really kissed you. Your hand lifted to the back of his neck in order to lug him back toward you when he started to pull away. The movement slow and sensual, no rush in either of your movements. You never wanted it to end. The urge to climb into his lap and straddle his broad body was strong, but you were meant to be behaving, so you made no movement to try and work him up before his big meeting. Your free hand lifted to the front of his white shirt. Tracing the thin material with your nail, you licked at his lips before pulling away with a quiet hum of delight. "Apology accepted." The man's grin would've been considered out of place to the men downstairs, but to you it was right where it was suppose to be and god, you loved when he smiled.