Daddy Dearest

“Daddy?” a voice whispered on the other side of the door.

I was out of my chair and next to it in seconds, creaking the door and letting the light from my lamp paint shadows on the floor in the hallway.

“What’s wrong, baby girl?” I asked her gently.

My eyes drank in the girl at my door.

She wore a pink fluffy gown, one she’d chosen with her sister. They had matching robes with bunny ears on them, and they both looked adorable as fuck in them.

“What is it?” I asked again. “Do you want to come in, Kendall?”

Her eyes darkened.

“It’s me,” she said, her voice whiny and thrilling just like it always was.

“Amanda?” I asked, and she nodded.

She barged in past me, and I hated myself for not recognizing my girl’s twin sister right away.

I walked in behind her and all the color drained from my face when her eyes zeroed in on the letter on my desk.

She was next to it before I could stop her. She grabbed the piece of paper and I tried to snatch it out of her hands, but my other stepdaughter was fast and not afraid to dodge me. She slipped through my fingers every single time, her eyes scanning the paper and then glaring at me.

“So?” she said accusingly, and my heart fucking stopped for a second. I was so painfully aware that I was still in just my hastily buttoned up trousers and a T-shirt, even though she didn’t seem to notice.

“So?” I asked, feigning innocence. “What’s up, princess?”

My nickname felt so fucking wrong this time around. I’d always called Amanda that – it suited her perfectly.

She was a spoiled little bitch, and so very obviously her mother’s favorite, perhaps because she was just like Barbara. Sexy, confident and oh-so-very aware of her looks. She was wise beyond her years where men were concerned, and I’d heard more than one rumor circulating about her sleeping with a teacher. Nasty little thing, so unlike Kendall, but at the same time, her doppelganger.

“What do you have to say for yourself, Daddy?” she asked meaningfully, and once again, my face blanched.

“What do you mean?” I asked her, my eyebrows shooting up. “What have you got there?”

“You haven’t read it?” Her bottom lip stuck out. She looked so fucking offended and hurt it almost made me laugh out loud. “This letter, Levi. Did you read it?”

I had no idea what the right answer was.

“N-no,” I finally uttered, and she pouted even more.

“I guess that’s what explains it,” she mumbled to herself, crumbling the perfect letter into a tiny ball.

I wanted to stop her, God, how I wanted to stop her. But if I did, I risked Amanda realizing I had indeed read the letter.

She kept whispering something under her breath.

“What are you talking about?” I asked her. I had to play the part now. “Why’d you crumple that up?”

“It’s nothing,” she shook her head vehemently, refusing to look at me. “Just a stupid little letter, from a stupid little girl.”

My cock twitched and I hated myself for it, but I couldn’t stop it either.

“Let me read it,” I said, teasing her and teasing myself because I was a sick bastard. “Come on, princess. Give it to Daddy.”

Her eyes shot up at me and she glared.

“No,” she said roughly. “I changed my mind.”

“About what?” I asked her, blocking her way out of the room.

She gave me an annoyed look before crossing her arms and leaning against the wall.

“I don’t want you to read it anymore,” she confessed. “Not now. I’m glad you haven’t read it. I changed my mind.”

“Changed your mind?” I repeated. “Anymore? What do you mean, princess?”

“I shouldn’t have written it,” she mumbled.

The world stood still.

“What do you mean?” I asked her again, my voice rough, my cock hard as hell.

“I mean I never should have written this letter, Levi!” she said at the top of her voice. “It was a mistake from the beginning.”

“The…” I could barely swallow. “The letter.”

“Yes,” she hissed. “I shouldn’t have slipped it under your door. Never should have written it. Never should have shown you…”

“You?” I asked her, staring her down. “You wrote the letter?”

She looked up at me. All wide eyes and sweet fucking innocence. No idea. She didn’t have a damn clue.

“Who else could write it?” she asked, fluttering her lashes.

“Nobody,” I said, feeling resigned and scared as hell. “Nobody else, princess. Go to bed.”

“Daddy?”

Her tone was questioning as I raised my fingers to my temples and rubbed at the headache I knew wouldn’t go away for a long time after this.

“Not now, Amanda,” I said roughly. “Come on, off to bed.”

I looked at her again in time to see her purse her lips sulkily and stare me down. Then, she rolled her eyes, stuffed the letter in the pocket of her robe and made for the door. I stood aside and let her pass this time around, watching her leave me, watching her shut the door softly on the way out.