Daddy's Little Liar - Maren Smith Page 0,17

it, and not just because it had hurt. She’d been sorry before she saw the butt plug in his hand.

“What do you have to say to me?” he coached.

“I’m sorry, Daddy. I didn’t mean to say it like that.”

With a final pat on her back, he unhooked his arm and smoothed her skirt over her bottom, covering her before letting her rise.

“Look at me.”

Her bottom hole was throbbing but in a weirdly wanton way. The pain had dimmed the erotic pulse between her legs, but as she twisted to raise her gaze to his and he locked that paternal frown on her, it came sharply back to life with a fluttering spasm. Pulses of lust throbbed from her clit, radiating through the emptiness of her sex to her womb, and she’d be damned if echoes didn’t take hold around the alien plug seated inside her.

“I hope you’re serious,” he warned. “If you do it again, not only will your first spanking be with my belt instead of my hand, I will bend you right back over this table and fuck you with that plug in a way I guarantee you wouldn’t like. Now, do you understand?”

“Yes, Daddy.” It sounded like someone else, softly, almost breathlessly, answering.

“Good.” He went back to his chair. “Sit down.”

Sit? “But… it’s still in me.”

The frown he gave her made the pulse thump all the harder… and hotter. Especially the errant, devilish, horribly embarrassing thump beating in her back passage so vibrantly, her brain became convinced it was him, already fucking her slow and steady with the butt plug.

“You’re being punished. It’s going to be ‘in you’ for a while. Sit down.”

She sat.

God help her.

Chapter Four

“Being able to pay your student loans is going to feel great,” Daddy said, watching from across the table as she picked at the last bite of her lasagna.

Dinner was over. Technically, it had been over for a good forty minutes. His plate was empty, she couldn’t eat another bite, and the last one remaining on her plate was now thoroughly ‘forked’ over. It was so much easier to pick at it than to actually look at him while he asked her questions—nothing terrible. The lecturing part of the evening seemed to be over. Instead of nitpicking her lack of preparation for the trip, he’d switched topics to her interview. He’d asked about her degree and what the year since she’d graduated had been like. She’d been honest. It had been hell, made up mostly of worrying how she was going to pay off her loans as the grace period between graduation and that first hefty payment slowly began its tick-down.

She hadn’t realized how much stress she had put on herself or how poorly she was dealing with it until she had to talk about it. Waitressing wasn’t what she wanted to do for the rest of her life. Every day she had been stuck in that position, especially once she’d graduated—that shining moment of adulthood she and her parents and all of society had built up in her mind as the magical be-all, end-all, which would supposedly transform her into a productive, financially responsible person—had been as demoralizing to her self-esteem as, say, going to prison.

Every holiday, every vacation, every time she had to look an interviewer in the eye and say, “Yes, I graduated all those months ago. Yes, I do waitress for a living right now,” killed her just a bit more. It was as if people thought it was her fault she hadn’t been hired ‘for real’ yet. It had felt as though she might never be hired, and all the time and money she’d spent had been wasted since she wasn’t worth anything better than ‘Do you want fries with that.’

She’d never told anyone how she felt, but she told Daddy. She could hardly stand to look at him when she let those secret fears escape her. These last few months, she could hardly stand to look at herself.

“It’s going to feel great to have benefits,” she corrected, a corner of her mouth lifting in a rueful smile. “It’s going to feel great moving into my own place, without a roommate who hogs the bathroom sink and can’t pick up after herself, no matter how often I ask. It’s going to feel awesome to have only one set of dishes to wash and know when I clean something, it’ll still be that way the next time I walk in the room.” Georgia closed her mouth, not