Page 13 of Her Royal Daddy
He licked his lips. “Please, what, baby girl?”
I’d never wanted anyone as badly as I wanted Mazi right now, and that look in his eyes said he didn’t just know it, but that he was loving it.
“Please,” I begged, the only time in my life that I had ever begged anyone for anything, much less a man for sex. “Please, Daddy... strip for me.”
Chapter Five
Mazi
This woman was going to be the death of me. Please, Daddy... Confined in my jeans, pressed up tight against my thigh, my cock was rock hard and I was more than ready to show this intoxicating little girl exactly what kind of daddy I could be.
“Take your panties off,” I heard myself say.
“Oh!” Her pout was both instant and cute as hell. “No, I said you strip for me.”
“I will,” I promised. “Just as soon as you put on some music I can dance to.”
Equally as cute as her pout, was the way she gave her clothes an immediate pat down, whipped her cellphone out of her back pocket, and rapidly tapped out an address. Within seconds, the thumping beat of a techno song filled the small room. It was the same song that had been playing at the strip club the first time I saw her.
Our eyes met again. Hers were huge, asking without words if she’d done okay. When I smiled, she relaxed.
“Now go sit on my bed,” I directed and, when she moved to obey, I added, “and take off your panties, so Daddy can see what he’s dancing for.”
Her eyes were even bigger when she stopped and looked back at me. I let my fingers wander up my shirt buttons to the very top one. I tapped it, just to watch her blush. She backed the rest of the way to the bed, her blush deepened with every step, but her eyes stayed locked on my tapping fingers even as she reached under her hot pink schoolgirl skirt, revealing the elastic hug of stockings that were white thigh-highs, not tights, and pushed her panties down.
They were virginal white and, although I neither expected nor particularly wanted her to in actuality be a virgin, they fit her. She let them fall in a puddle of discarded cotton on the floor at the foot of the bed, and I was glad. If she’d tossed them at me, I’d have been hard pressed not to put them in my pocket. A trophy to be pulled out whenever I wanted to relive this moment as she crawled up backwards onto the bed, scooting her hips well back from the edge before pulling her skirt all the way up to her waist, leaning back on her arms and spreading her legs. She showed me what Daddy was dancing for all right. And not only did she do it with that pretty pink blush on her cheeks, but she was still smiling and her sparkling eyes were begging my approval. I could all but hear them asking me, “Like this, Daddy? Like this?”
Oh, yeah, Daddy liked.
Daddy also went into full-on stripper mode without hardly even thinking about it. It wasn’t hard. The music was familiar with a heady beat that moved through my back and hips and I had an appreciable audience of one, raptly watching as my fingers moved one by one down the front of my shirt. In my opinion, watching a woman strip out of her clothing was by far a sexier turn-on that watching a guy could ever be. That wasn’t my opinion solely because I was a guy, or because I loved watching women. Women were beautiful. Women had curves, breasts, sexy little jiggles that most tried hard at the gym to get rid of but that drove men crazy in completely different ways. Guys were all straight lines and hard muscles, and while big pecs and six-pack abs could be nice to look at, the rest of the package was just plain funny looking.
Still, it did wonders for my ego to see Norah watching me raptly from the edge of the bed, her eyes fixed on every button until my shirt was undone. She licked her lips when I pulled the tucked hem out of my pants and, gyrating to the music, shrugged my way out of it. She swallowed hard, marveling at my shoulders, my biceps as I pumped them for her, and the undulation of my abs as I offered three sharp hip thrusts in time with the drumbeat, showing her what she had to look forward to.
I especially loved the way she shivered as, my hands on my belt buckle, I advanced on the bed, coming to within feet of it before stopping again. I held myself frozen, not moving, not dancing.
As raptly as she’d been paying attention to my performance, it took a moment for her to notice that I wasn’t doing anything anymore. Dragging her gaze from my belt to my eyes, she asked, “Why did you stop?”
