Dear Daddy, Please Spank Me - Chara Croft Page 0,38

mouth, so maybe if I just got proactive, if I didn’t wait for him to be the one to start things up, we could just skip that part? I mean, he wasn’t going to expect me to talk with a mouthful of dick, right? Because I was good, but not that good.

Okay, settled. Solid plan. And when Andy slid his hands down my arms but kept hold of one of my hands, lacing his fingers through mine and then leading me into the house, my dick was definitely on board with the plan, too... because just like the last time I’d been here, the whole Andy-package—smile, voice, intoxicating scent, undivided attention, the feel of his hands on me, fuuuuuucccckkkkk—was already working its magic and starting to get me hard.

“Shoes on the shoe rack, baby,” Andy said the minute we got inside.

I automatically started to toe them off, but then froze. Fuck. He was doing it again. Making it way too fucking easy to kind of zone out and just follow his lead, let him take charge the way he had when we’d done that Daddy thing and then get sucked into the illusion that he actually wanted to take care of me or whatever.

And since when had I ever wanted that?

Well, okay, it did sound really fucking nice, actually, even if that wasn’t how shit actually worked in life. If I was honest, though, what I wanted to do was let it happen. Do exactly whatever he told me to, starting with taking my shoes off and hopefully ending in a cum shower... but what I needed to do was hurry up and blow him, then leave before he could go all Daddy on me and pull another “it’s all about you, baby” thing that fucked with my head again.

I didn’t actually want a Daddy, but the way Andy got so into it had kind of made me forget that fact last time, but even though he clearly had his shit way more together than I did, I had to keep in mind that he was just twenty-one.

No, wait. I had to keep in mind that I didn’t want it, that was the main thing. Not a Daddy; not the whole relationship-ish, long-term, Scott-type thing that getting addicted to one guy’s dick put you at risk for; and definitely not the inevitable shititude when it all crashed and burned after you’d actually started to get used to it.

And even if I had been interested—which would be dumb, so clearly I wasn’t—Andy wasn’t actually going to want to do all that Daddy shit full-time IRL. It was just a hot role play. One that he was really fucking good at, but still.

“Everything okay?” he asked, turning back to me after hanging his coat in an honest-to-God coat closet.

I was still standing there like an idiot, foot half in and half out of my shoe, but if I took them off, then this might turn into, like, a thing. I’d maybe stay longer than intended and do more than what I’d come for, which was just to blow him.

Not an activity I needed to take my shoes off for, so I pushed my foot back down and cleared my throat. “Uh, yeah,” I said. “All good. It's good. I'm good."

He gave me one of those slow, sexy smiles again. “And is that what you want? To be good for me tonight, petal?”

“Fu...udge yeah, it is,” I said, remembering his language fetish just in time. Then I swallowed, wanting to kick myself for even bothering. Like, what, I wanted Daddy to praise me again or some shit? Get him to keep overusing all those names he seemed so damn fond of, when like, who even did that with a hookup? At least, not outside the heat of the moment when something like “suck it, baby” or “ride me harder, you dirty slut” might be expected. Point being, no. I didn't want that shit, because I was just here to get off, not fall for all Andy’s sappy weirdness. I was just looking for some stress relief. Something to do while dodging Paolo and Dev. A little action with someone who’d already proven they could deliver. Plus, I owed him. I still couldn’t believe he’d let me go last time without getting something in return, so I really had to—

“Hey,” Andy suddenly said, crowding into my space and wrapping a steadying hand around the back of my neck. “It’s okay.”

What, he could tell I