Daddy's Enticing Little Princess (Wounded Daddies 12)

CHAPTER TEN

Tabitha

We almost never have sex this way, missionary, I mean. I guess in general, I find it boring. Maybe it’s just because we do so many other positions that are just really explosive. In other positions, it’s kind of clear that Neil is fucking me or, when I’m on top, that I’m pleasing him. When I’m on top, I feel a lot like I feel when I give him a blowjob. In missionary, it’s sort of a cooperative effort. I don’t know why that doesn’t turn me on the same way.

In general.

Dear God, it turns me on now. I guess it turns me on mostly because of all of the emotion involved at the moment. The closeness with Neil is amazing and as I run my hands over his back, I feel an overwhelming kind of happiness that just drives me into a state unlike I’ve ever felt before. “I love you, Daddy,” I whisper.

Dear God, did I just say that?

I did.

I just told him I love him for the first time.

Terror fills me for a moment. Who the hell says that for the first time spontaneously instead of thinking abut it and doing it by design and with a lot of thought? What the hell is wrong with me? The words seem to hang in the air and I instantaneously have a thousand scenarios run through my head ranging from him finishing with the sex and then telling me he doesn’t feel the same way to him pulling out and calling me a needy bitch or something.

I think all of that happens in the course of a second or two.

“I love you, too, little girl,” he replies as he stops moving. He looks down at my face and adds, “more than you’ll ever know.”

I let out a sigh, and he kisses me. I don’t know which of us starts moving first but we start up again and all of the significance of the closeness is a hell of a lot more significant now. As though there really is some kind of mystical spirit of Christmas, it’s at that point the automatic timer clicks. The regular lights dim. The Christmas tree lights come on, sparkling over us in red, green, orange and yellow. When that’s added to flickering flames of the fireplace, it makes everything feel magical.

Of course, it might just feel magical because of what we just said to each other.

One of the Christmas ornaments has a recording of a Christmas song that plays when it lights up, and as we make love, I hear a mellow, rich voice dreaming about a white Christmas. I hold Neil closer to me and this time I mean to say it when I breathe out, “I love you so much, Neil. I love you so much, Daddy.”

He kisses my neck and grazes my earlobe with his teach. “You’re everything to me, Tabitha. I love you and I always will. You’re my little girl forever.”

I don’t know if it’s the words he says or the lights and the fire or if the whole time it was building up but my orgasm hits right then. “Oh, Daddy!” I cry. “Oh, Daddy!”

The pleasure is profound but what I feel physically is nothing compared to what I feel emotionally. My Daddy is with me, and he loves me, too. My Daddy is with me and he helps me get over my mistakes and the way they wounded me. Now, I get to help my wounded Daddy, too.

“Oh Daddy,” I whisper as the orgasm grows as warm as the fire and as beautiful as the Christmas lights. “Oh, Daddy, I love you.”

“Forever,” he says. “I love you forever, little girl.”