Daddy's Little Liar - Maren Smith Page 0,22
bed still wanting.
Except who was lying here left wanting now?
He wanted to feel the heated confines of her pussy clutching helplessly at his cock while he pounded her into the mattress. He wanted to hear teary cries of, “Daddy, not my bottom,” as he deepened her mortification by switching his focus and taking her hard from behind.
Why was he doing this to himself? Kace rolled over, but that just made his awkward erection even more uncomfortable. Throwing the blankets off, he got out of bed and went to the door, cracked it, peeked out, and listened. Not a sound from her. Good.
Slipping out, he went to the bathroom and switched on the shower, running the water cool enough to kill his passion, then got in. Unfortunately, his cock refused to take the hint, stubbornly maintaining its hardness, even after his balls shrank for safety, drawing up tight into his body. He gritted his teeth to keep them from chattering, but when he closed his eyes, instead of concentrating on something—anything—but the woman lying on his couch, all he saw was her bottom. Bouncing on his knee under the steady whack of his hand, her legs kicked as she tried so hard to be good and endure, flashing him peekaboo glimpses of her naughty puss, and oh, the forlorn way she’d held her bottom while she’d cried when it was done.
All right, fuck. He switched the water to hot and grabbed his cock, squeezing from the base.
Through his spanking, she hadn’t said a word, but in his head, she’d cried a whole slew of them. Please, Daddy, no. Please, I’ll be a good girl. Daddy, please don’t spank my bottom. Until at last, there at the end, her bottom was as red and hot as he could make it, telltale glistens of moisture seeping along the slit between her thighs, and the only thing left for her to plead and cry was, Daddy, Daddy, please, rub and make it better.
His muscles clenched, his hips aching to pump.
He’d rub and make it better, all right, but not until he was done.
He ought to be embarrassed how little stroking it took to before his cum shot out onto the shower walls. It had been a long time, but still…
Struggling to slow his breathing, he shut the water off. Dripping, he stood for a long time, basking in the physical relief, while the mental images of things that hadn’t happened twined with those that had, bringing him nothing but the sad frustration of knowing none of it would ever happen again.
Tomorrow she’d go to her interview, and from there, she’d go home.
It had been a long time since he’d been anyone’s Daddy. His chance to play the role would leave when she did in the morning. He knew it. Just as he knew he shouldn’t, yet he missed already.
Daddy’s couch was one of the most comfortable she’d ever slept on. Nowhere near as old as the rest of the house, it was the perfect blend of plush, length, and width, and thank God, it wasn’t teal.
Once dinner, her spanking, and a late-night bath, so she could soak her ankle in Epsom salts, were done, she dressed in one of Daddy’s old t-shirts. Three sizes too big for her, it hung off one shoulder and covered her down to mid-thigh. When he told her to lie down, she stretched out and fit so perfectly on the couch, neither her head nor her feet touched the opposite arms.
She must have been more tired than she knew. She closed her eyes for just a minute when he spread a blanket over the top of her and dropped right off to sleep. The kiss she thought she felt him brush across her forehead might have been real, but it might also have been a figment of her budding dreams.
Although initially easy to achieve, deep and restful sleep didn’t stay with her. Throughout the night, she kept waking up. Strange places did that to her. Each time, she startled awake in the unfamiliar surroundings with that nameless, faceless, dread-filled feeling someone was breaking into the place.
No one ever was.
Nor did she find Daddy sneaking around in the shadows, standing over her, or doing anything at all creepy to freak her out. In fact, as if he’d known she might awaken, before disappearing off to his own bed, he’d left the bathroom light on and the door cracked. Georgia didn’t wake in pitch darkness or in a panic because she