Call Me Daddy

Perverse and icky, as Laine would call it. Because it is. It is icky.

Dirty.

It’s fucking dirty.

But my cock’s already hard at the thought.

I don’t care who hears us in this place, and that’s a new feeling too, the disregard for appearances. My professional conduct is the only thing in recent years I’ve had to concern myself with, and that’s for my father’s legacy and the firm’s reputation rather than anything personal.

“It’s Daddy, sweetheart,” I tell her.

She looks uncertain, her cheeks flushing. “In public? I thought this was…”

“You thought it was at home only?” I raise an eyebrow. “Is that what you want?”

She shakes her head but she doesn’t seem entirely sure. “You said people wouldn’t understand… people like Kelly Anne…”

“And they wouldn’t. The complexity is too confusing.” I lean closer. “In this place I can be your daddy or your lover. Or both.” I smirk. “It depends how devilish you feel.”

I’m joking, but her eyes tell me she isn’t. They flash with dark amusement, and she wants it. I know she wants it.

Interesting.

My sweet little Laine is certainly interesting.

“I’ll call you Daddy,” she whispers.LaineI’m burning up as the waiter brings our meal. This is new ground, him being Daddy here, around people. It makes it seem so real and so tingly.

The waiter smiles as he places my plate in front of me, and I wonder if I should find a way to say it aloud. I wonder if that’s what Daddy Nick wants.

He doesn’t give me an opportunity to find a way. He does it for me.

“Doesn’t that look lovely, sweetheart?” he asks. The waiter looks at me, waits for a reaction with a smile.

My heart is racing. “Yes… it does, Daddy.”

Daddy Nick smiles so bright, and I feel like I’ve passed a test. I like it. I really like it.

“It looks really yummy, Daddy,” I say, trying it out some more. It comes so much easier than I thought it would.

I wonder how old the waiter thinks I am. Fifteen, maybe sixteen at most. Just the right age to have a daddy like Nick.

“Enjoy your meal,” the waiter says, and leaves us, just like that. As though it’s the most normal thing in the world, a little girl eating out with her daddy on a Saturday evening.

“Good girl,” Daddy Nick says, and I feel it in my tummy.

“I don’t look much like you,” I whisper.

“Then I guess you look like your mother.” His eyes twinkle so darkly, and I wonder if he’s hard. I wish I could find out.

Dinner tastes really good, but I hardly want to eat a thing. I have to force it down, but my thighs are doing that clenching thing they do, and I’m squirming on my seat, hoping Daddy Nick will take me again when we get home. Hoping he’ll do it fast and hard and make those horny grunts he makes when he loses control.

“Eat up,” he tells me. “You’ll need the energy when we get home.”

I eat every single bite.Chapter Twenty-OneNickI drive faster than usual, my dick straining in my lap, so fucking hard at the thought of thrusting into Laine’s tight little pussy.

She doesn’t speak, just stares at the road ahead. But she’s fidgety, her cute little ass shuffling in the passenger seat. I know I’ll find her knickers nice and wet for me, the thought makes my mouth water.

“You can touch yourself,” I tell her. “It’s dark. No one can see inside the car.”

I feel her wide eyes on me. Such delicious shock. “But I…”

“But you what?”

“I don’t know…” she admits. “It feels…”

“Dirty,” I tell her. “Daddy’s feeling dirty right now, sweetheart. Daddy wants to take his little girl home and bury his cock in her pretty little cunt.”

A pause, and then I hear the zipper on her jeans.

“Good girl.” My balls tighten. “Make yourself nice and wet for Daddy. Tell him how it feels.”

I can see her little hand rubbing from the corner of my eye. “It feels… ah… it feels…”

“Play with that sweet little clit, Laine, but don’t come. You come only for Daddy.”

“Ah… but I’m so…”

“Only Daddy makes you come, Laine. Understood?” My voice is so harsh, laced with the pressure of my straining fucking cock.

“Yes, Daddy…” Her hand slows down its rubbing.

We’re turning onto our street before I know it, and Laine keeps rubbing herself right until I turn off the engine. She piles out of the car without fastening up her jeans, and they’re so easy to yank down her thighs once we make it into the kitchen. I press into her from behind and walk her forward with frantic steps until I’ve pinned her against the kitchen island, her tiny body so delicious as I grind against her ass, my fingers snaking around to slip inside her knickers and rub at her needy little clit.