Single Daddy Scot (Hot Scots)

Her breathing is rapid, her chest heaving between us. ‘Who do you think you are?’ she asks evenly. ‘My dad?’

‘We can play daddy games.’ It’d be a first, but my cock is so hard she could want to call me Santa fucking Claus and it wouldn’t make a drop of fucking difference. Because I want her. In the rawest sense.

‘Just look at you. So pretty, not a lick of makeup on your face, yet so rosy cheeked and lipped.’ I feed my hand through the mass of her hair, and she leans her head into my touch like a cat. ‘Sitting there so prim and so proper like a good little girl. But it’s all there in your eyes. The good little girl waiting to be defiled.’ I’m not sure if it’s my words or the way I pull her head back that makes her breath halt then stutter.

‘You like the sound of that, don’t you, Ella?’ I whisper, bringing my mouth to her ear. ‘Being defiled . . . by Daddy.’

It’s a risk, sure, but she let the patriarch out of the bag.

The sight of her exposed neck, delicate and so pale, the heat in her eyes, and the heave of her chest is enough to suggest she wants this. That she’s into this. But I need more. I need to hear the words as I tilt her head further still.

‘Do you want to hear how Daddy wants to sink his cock into your pretty pink pussy? Make you so fucking wet and messy that I have to clean you up with my tongue?’

‘Yes.’ Her answer is as tremulous as her breath.

‘Yes, what? Yes, you like the sound of that? Or yes, you’ll be a good girl.’

‘Yes . . . to all of it.’

Raphaela Alescio, you wee deviant. I think I might marry you.

‘That’s the thing, though. I touch you, and you get cold feet or you change your mind. There’s something you’re not telling me, and until you do, we’re not fucking, either.’

I’m a bastard, I know. A smiling bastard. I also know she can feel it curled into the crook of her neck. What she doesn’t know is I’m deadly serious and about to leave my mark on her in more ways than one.

I drag my tongue to the base of her neck, and a sigh stutters from her chest. I work my way to her mouth, eating her in biting kisses. Cover her mouth with mine as a rush of anticipation runs down my spine. I kiss her hard and possessive, bite her lips while keeping her immobile by her hair.

‘Too bad you’re hiding something,’ I murmur into her mouth. ‘Too bad you’re not a good little girl.’

‘I am . . . I can be.’ Her whisper is hoarse as if she’s run a mile. ‘Please . . . Fuck me. Fuck me over the countertop.’

‘That’s a very specific request, especially for a girl who, this afternoon . . . ’ I don’t finish as a thought suddenly occurs to me. ‘You’ve been snooping, haven’t you? You bad little girl.’

‘I was putting the whisky away,’ she pants. ‘The box of condoms just . . . fell out.’

‘And you’ve been thinking about it. Being fucked from behind.’ As best she can, given her position, she nods. ‘Or were you spread-eagle on the countertop?’

‘Yes, all of it. I can’t help it,’ she whispers. ‘I’m afraid I’ve become a little obsessed.’

‘Such sweet words from such a bad girl. And bad girls get spanked.’

‘What?’ Loosening my grip on her hair, I slip my hand under her arm and lead her over to the sofa. ‘What do you mean, bad girls get spanked? I thought bad girls get fucked?’

‘Do you kiss your daddy with that mouth?’

‘What?’ She looks stunned and sounds incredulous.

‘It’s no wonder I want to fuck your mouth when it says such dangerous things.’

As we reach the sofa, Ella is flushed pink from chest to cheek. ‘What are you going to do with me?’ I’d bet her voice is a full octave lower right now.

‘I’m open to suggestions, but I was thinking of spanking you, hen.’

‘Y-you can’t be serious,’ she says, her eyes darting around the room.

‘Do I not look serious to you?’ I respond, beginning to unbutton my cuffs.

‘What are you doing now?’

‘I didn’t say I was’nae planning on enjoying it,’ I answer prosaically, loosening the buttons on my shirt. I slip it off my shoulders, loosening my jeans a touch. ‘A little skin on skin while we do this might be nice, don’t you think?’

‘While we do what?’ My only response is to smile. All teeth and devilment. ‘You can’t really expect me to go along with this? Not reasonably.’

‘Come on, darlin’,’ I say, taking her hand. Without giving her a chance to protest, I pull her over my knee.