Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 74366 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74366 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
“What, Laine?”
I shrug. “I, um… I told Kelly Anne, some things.”
He nods. “Some things about us?”
I tap the empty lunchbox in my lap. “I won’t tell her anything else… not if it’s private…”
“Do you want us to be private?”
I shrug again. “If that’s what you want…”
His hand rests on my arm. “That’s not answering my question. Do you want us to be private?”
I don’t. I don’t want us to be private. I want to shout it from the rooftops, show the whole world that a man like Nick loves me, and I’m his and he’s mine. But I don’t say that. The words don’t come, so I shake my head, hoping my eyes tell him all that.
“No,” I say. “I don’t want us to be private, like we’re doing something wrong. I want it to be… real…”
He smiles. “It is real. We’re real.” His fingers squeeze my elbow. “I have no problem with you telling Kelly Anne about us, Laine, but you should be aware that aspects of our… relationship… may make people uncomfortable.”
“I didn’t tell her about… those bits…” I admit, and my cheeks are on fire.
“Probably for the best.” He squeezes again. “I’m not ashamed, sweetheart, but we’re unorthodox. Our relationship is unorthodox. Be prepared for what that means, should it get out somehow.”
“It won’t…” I tell him. “I’d only talk to Kelly Anne, and she’d…”
“She’d what?”
I don’t want to say it, but I do. “She’d laugh, or be super icked out. She wouldn’t get it.”
He laughs, and it surprises me. “Super icked out could arguably be the right response to a situation like ours. Daddy play is… niche, Laine, so niche that most people just wouldn’t understand.”
I laugh with him, but I’m shaking my head. “No! It’s not super icky, not at all! I like it… it’s just…”
“A little bit icky?”
“No!” I fidget in my seat. “I meant it’s private, not icky.”
Daddy play. The words spin in my brain, and they make sense. That’s what this is. It’s Daddy play. I saw that on Jerry Springer once, years ago, some grown up woman in pigtails, colouring in while this guy talked to Jerry about how she was his little-y or something.
It made me feel squirmy, all weird and hot, and then so guilty when Mum laughed about it and said how gross it was. Window cleaner guy, that’s who she said it to. And he hadn’t said a word, just stared in my direction.
“Let’s go home,” Nick says, and my thoughts are right back with him. He’s looking at me so intently as he puts the car in gear, like he knows I’m feeling all squirmy again at the memory.
I nod. “Home sounds real good.”
“Yes,” he says. “It does.”
And in that moment he’s that Nick again. The Daddy Nick that rubbed his cock against me until he came.
Nick
She’s thinking about it, the Daddy play. I can see it all over her face. I can feel it in her wispy little breaths, her eyes staring at me as I make fast work of the drive home.
She’s thinking about it and she likes it.
I imagine her horny little clit. Imagine her damp white knickers. Imagine the way she’s clenching her thighs under the lunchbox in her lap.
“I’m going to shave you,” I tell her.
“Okay,” she says without hesitation, as though I’ve told her we’re having chicken for dinner.
But I want more than that. My cock is craving a reaction, my cock is craving her. Craving the guilty devilment in her eyes when she knows she’s my horny little girl.
“I’m going to shave your pretty little cunt, Laine, and then I’m going to suck on that smooth little mound until you come for your daddy like a good girl.”
Her mouth drops open, her cheeks bloom red, and it makes me so fucking hard.
“That’s what you want, isn’t it? Tell Daddy that’s what you want.”
Her voice is so delicate. “Yes… yes, please…”
“I need more than that, Laine…Yes please, Daddy. I want you to shave me and lick me, Daddy. I’ll be a good girl, Daddy.”
She shifts in her seat and clears her throat, and her sweet excitement is too much for me. I take her lunchbox and throw it onto the backseat, and my fingers slip between her legs, rubbing at her through the denim of her jeans.
“Yes please, Daddy,” she whispers, so softly, and her legs part, her hips rolling up for more.
“You like that, Laine? You like being my little girl?”
She nods, her lip pinched between her teeth. It takes all of my restraint to pull my hand away and turn my attention back to the road.
“I saw it… on the TV…” Her voice is hushed, confessional. “I saw it… this woman… in pigtails… and this guy… being her daddy…”
“Did it make you wet?”
She nods again. “I went to bed and touched myself, and it felt… icky… but nice…”