Daddy's Little Liar - Maren Smith Page 0,14

was shaking, but not with fear. That this was turning her on both scared and appalled her. She’d never been more turned on, and that included the night after graduation when her boyfriend tied her hands to her thighs and her ankles back over her head to the headboard of his bed while he ate her out, until she, literally, could not have come any harder, deeper, or longer. He’d been good, but this…

This had just forever separated in her mind the boys from the men.

She was wet. She was leg-shaking, pussy-contracting, puddles-on-the-chair-when-she-stood-up wet, and nothing she experienced from this point forward would ever come close in comparison.

“I-I don’t know how to handle this,” Georgia stammered.

“I understand and can appreciate how uncomfortable you might be right now. However, that doesn’t change the fact you lied, and I still don’t like it. The consequence is your panty privileges have been revoked for the rest of the night. Consider this a warning, baby girl, the only one you’re going to get.”

The twists in her belly jerked, and her pussy throbbed, hot and hard.

“If you lie to me again, the next consequence won’t be anywhere near as mild or forgiving. Frankly, you’re already due one hell of a spanking. Before dinner is over, I’m going to see you get it. Do you understand?”

Don’t look, don’t look, a little voice inside her begged, but her eyes had already betrayed her. She looked, first at his knees—oh, God—then at his crotch—oh! God!—then back at him. Was she breathing? She touched her chest, flattening both hands over her breasts, just to make sure she was.

“Do you understand what I just said?” he calmly repeated.

“Yes, Daddy,” she stammered.

“Do you want to stop here, or do you want to continue?”

That wasn’t a choice. It was a razor, poised to cut her no matter which crazy edge she leapt from.

“Continue, please,” she whispered. This was too wild and happening all too fast. She didn’t dare stand, and no way could she walk away. There would be a telltale wet spot on the back of her skirt, she couldn’t explain. That erotic pulse just kept beating between her tightly clamped thighs, throbbing in the whole of her needy clit—warm and wet, with liquid trickles spilling like tears through folds that cried to be touched.

Georgia clutched her hands in her lap. She gripped them tightly, clamping down with all her fingers until her knuckles whitened. “Continue,” she whispered again because there was no stopping this. There was no walking away.

She couldn’t afford to.

She didn’t want to. Not anywhere near as bad as she knew she ought to.

Daddy nodded once. “Good girl,” he softly praised, and damn if her pussy didn’t spasm. An electrified jolt shivered her from clit to womb, leaving every tingling nerve inside her perked that much wider awake.

Reaching for her plate, he pushed it back toward her.

“Finish your supper.”

Supper? Dazed, she looked at her plate—an entirely new portion of lasagna stared back at her, right next to three bites of unfinished salad. She didn’t think she could eat if she tried.

As if he knew, a corner of his mouth quirked into a wry smile. “If I was you, I’d do everything I could to drag out how long I got to sit in that chair. I promise, sweetheart, it won’t be this comfortable again for a very long time.”

It wasn’t comfortable now. She was vibrating with need and had never felt need as sharp and insistent.

Picking up her fork, she tried to make her hand stop shaking long enough to cut the lasagna. He’d warmed it up, but during their exchange, it had cooled. It wasn’t tough, not by any means, but the fork wasn’t working quite right, and her hand wouldn’t hold it steady. Trying to apply pressure enough to cut her food, she fumbled and dropped it, and eventually, Daddy took it away from her.

“Let me.” Standing, he leaned over her long enough to cut her food into bite-sized portions. In the back of her head, she kept telling herself this was definitely something she should find patronizing, but it didn’t feel that way. How could it when his very nearness vibrated through her, rattling her nerves and scattering every coherent thought she had until all she could think about were the vague, titillating, and completely inappropriate possibilities stretching into the night ahead of her?

As if there had been anything appropriate about the offer she’d made that started all this.

As if she had any room to