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)
I knew it. I laugh as I tell her as much.
“A drive through!” she expands. “Oh please, Daddy Nick, can we go to a drive through?”
“And eat greasy fries in our lovely clean car?”
She nods. “Please, please, please!”
“If that’s what you want.”
She grins, bounces in her seat. “It is! It’s exactly what I want!”
“Then a drive through it is,” I tell her.
I make her do her homework before we head out to eat, and there’s a thrill of excitement in her smile which makes me both so happy and sad in parallel. Such a simple pleasure, and yet it means so much to my sweet Laine.
She skips out to the car when I tell her it’s time to go. Her cheeks are flushed and her smile is bright.
“I’m so looking forward to this,” she tells me as she buckles herself in.
“So, what’s on the Laine Seabourne menu for this evening? Burger, fries, milkshake? How about some of those chicken nuggets on the side?”
She nods. “And an apple pie, too? Please can we have an apple pie?”
“We can have whatever you want, sweetheart. Ten apple pies if you like.”
She lets out a squeal. “A large milkshake! Maybe even two!”
“And large fries, extra large fries. Double fries. Fries on fries.”
She laughs. “And what will you have?”
I shrug. “I don’t usually eat fast food, I’ll take your guidance.”
“Don’t worry, Daddy Nick,” she giggles. “I’ll help you out.”
She does help me out, leaning across me to reach the drive through intercom and dishing out the order. Her hand rests on my thigh and my cock strains as she lets them know we want extra everything, and she doesn’t want gherkin on her burger and neither do I.
She claps her hands as I ease the car towards the collection point.
“Thank you,” she says. “You have no idea how much I love this stuff.”
“I’m getting the picture. We can do this every weekend, if you love it so much.”
Her eyes widen. “Every weekend? Seriously?”
“Seriously. If you’re a good girl.”
She lurches from her seat and wraps her arms around my neck, as though I’ve just proposed marriage. My stomach lurches and my dick twitches and there’s a glorious pang in my heart.
“Thank you, Daddy Nick.”
I squeeze her knee as we reach the collection window. “It’s just a bit of fast food, Laine. I have so many amazing pleasures to show you, I promise. We’ll do it all, sweetheart. Everything. Fast food will be the last thing on your to-do list.”
I pass her the tray of food and thank and pay the attendant, and then I park up in the carpark as Laine instructs, and I genuinely have no idea why we didn’t just eat in. I tell her so.
“It’s different in the car,” she tells me.
“How so?”
She shrugs, her fingers busy sorting out our order. “Because a drive through is… cooler…”
“Cooler?”
“Yeah, more… I dunno…”
I laugh as a couple of fries spill between her knees and land in the footwell. “More messy?”
She giggles. “Well, yeah. That too. But it’s magical, getting your order and eating it on your lap in the car.”
I’m not sure I see the magic in getting grease all over your dashboard, but I smile regardless. “Did you do this with your mum?”
She shakes her head. “With a couple of her boyfriends, when it was all new. You know how it goes. New guy, wants to impress the kid, takes the family out for burgers, reads a bedtime story. Gets bored after a week and sends the kid to bed early every night until they get bored of the mum too and vanish into the horizon forever.”
I don’t know how it goes. I don’t know at all. “That’s rough, Laine.”
“It’s alright,” she says. “I did ok. I had it pretty good, loads of other kids have it way worse.”
I keep quiet, unwrapping the thing that could only loosely be described as a burger and contemplating how she can possibly find so much pleasure in this.
She gives a delightful groan as she bites into hers, a look of bliss on her face that I hope I’ll remember forever.
“Good?” I ask.
More groans. She nods her head, chews then swallows. “Better than good. Amazing.”
I bite into mine. It’s actually not that bad, if you like the taste of processed plastic. Her eyes question me, and I haven’t the heart to tell her so. “Good,” I say, and she laughs. It’s raw and real and beautiful.
“Liar!”
I hold up my hands. “Really, it’s good,” I lie again.
Her eyes sparkle. She hands me my milkshake. “Try this. You’ll like this.”
It’s thick and slurpy. More sugar than substance.
“So?” she prompts. “It’s good, right?”
I tip my head. “It’s better than the burger.”
“I love milkshake. It’s the best.”
I can’t resist, not when I see her hollow cheeks as she sucks in rapture, her eyelashes fluttering as she takes a greedy mouthful.