Page 8 of A London Little's Bunny

And then he was kissing her, walking her backwards until her knees hit the bedframe and she went tumbling backwards, caught in his arms and then slowly lowered onto the bed.

“Daddy?” she asked, and then he swallowed her question with a kiss, before pulling backwards.

Next thing she knew, there was the smell of chocolate orange, heady in its exquisiteness. He brushed the profiterole against her lips, letting some of the chocolate coat them, before coaxing her mouth open so he could place it inside.

Biting down, the flavour of the cream burst out, coating her palette, complimenting the chocolate.

Heaven.

She moaned.

“Babygirl,” his mouth was hot against her ear and it made her moan. “May I touch you?”

“Sensual groping, Daddy,” she said with a cheeky smile, but then moaned as his hands drifted to her breasts. She tried to help him along, fumbling buttons until she got too fed up and tugged the entire shirt open. Buttons flew everywhere and she heard them pitter patter on the wooden floor of her bedroom. “Please.”

“Please what, babygirl?”

“Please touch me, Daddy. Touch me, kiss me, caress me.”

He dropped his mouth to her breast then, and when she urged him on—“more Daddy, please more” —licked one tight nipple into his mouth and sucked.

Essie almost arched off the bed. He’d barely touched her all evening. Suggestions of caresses, and the sweetest of kisses, and already she was strung so tight she felt that all he’d have to do was look at her and she’d shatter.

“Fuck, Daddy.”

“Such grown up words, babygirl. Is that ‘cos you’re feeling all grown up right now?”

She nodded, and then vocalised her thoughts. “All Big, and Big girls get to…”

“Yes, Essiegirl?”

The nickname undid her. “Big girls get to come. Please Daddy.”

“You’re right, Essiegirl, Big girls do get to come. How do you think I should make you come? With my fingers?” Fingertips danced across the bare skin of her belly, walking up to tweak her aching nipples. “With my mouth?” Followed by his mouth, teasing at her breasts. “Tell me Essiegirl, tell me how to make you come.”

She took his hand then, moved it down her leg slowly, pausing at the hem of her skirt. “Are you green, Daddy?”

“Oh babygirl, I’m very very green.”

“Good,” Essie said, and then urged his hand up between her thighs, and his mouth back to her nipple.

He needed very little encouragement then, delighted by the wetness of her underwear, he teased her there until she begged and begged him to fill her up, and then one, two, three fingers entered her, she was so slick.

Gasping, she heard herself make a kind of keening sound. With the tie about her eyes there was nothing else to distract her, no sensations of glinting light to throw her out of the moment. It was blissfully dark and she could give herself over to Ben. To Daddy.

“Please, Daddy,” she begged. “Please, I’m so…I’m so close.”

“I got you, babygirl, he said, and just as she crested the peak of her desire, he nudged the blindfold up just a tiny bit, so she could look at him as she came.

His hair was all mussed up, but it was the look in his eyes, deep intensity and focus—all on her— that had her coming a second time, clenching tight about his fingers.

After he’d extricated his fingers, he pulled her close to him and she clung on, hands clutching at the smart collar of his shirt. “You’ll stay?” she asked, suddenly, desperately, needing him. Wanting him there with her. “You’ll stay the night, Daddy?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Daddy Ben said. “I’ve got you, Essiegirl. Sleep. Now.”

“Yes, Daddy,” said Essie. And closing her eyes, she realised that she’d found her Daddy at last.

The End

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