Page 18 of Daddy, Take Me Away
He probably wasn’t religious, and that’s why it didn’t work.
“Haggis?” he asked, that devilish smile of his broadening slightly.
“What’s that?”
“I’ve spent enough time in America to know you really dinnae want to know.”
“I might.” Curiosity pricked, she asked, “Is it full of beans?”
He chuckled. “Not traditionally.”
Straightening in her seat, she stuck out her hand to shake his. “I’ll happily eat haggis, if you’ll let me skip on the beans today.”
Shaking his head, his smile still that of a trickster, he shook her hand, his strong fingers engulfing her own and making her tummy tighten and shiver all over again. “You might be sorry.”
She doubted it, but spared from having to ingest the worst thing on her plate, she happily ate everything else, except the tomatoes.
The second she’d popped the last bite of toast into her mouth, she shoved her chair back and grabbed her plate. Before she could jump up, Hamish stopped her with four simple words.
“You may be excused.”
She was supposed to ask to leave the table?
Frozen, butt still in seat, she blinked twice. He didn’t look at her. Wiping his mouth on his napkin, he pushed his empty plate aside to cradle his coffee cup between his massive hands.
He didn’t seem cross with her, but just to be on the safe side, she corrected herself anyway. “May I be excused, Daddy?”
Finally, his smug smile broadened into a real grin. “You may. Bath,” he repeated, when she stood with her plate. “If you’re not out in fifteen minutes, Daddy’s coming in to help.”
Her whole body shuddered, every tiny hair on her arms and across the nape of her neck standing much too eagerly on end. “H-help?”
Was… was he going to spank her if she took too long, or just soap up all the curves of her utterly naked body with his big hands? She flushed hot all over.
“I’ve given you both the cause and the consequence,” Daddy said. Was her face as red-hot as it felt? He took another sip of his coffee, then added, “The choice for what happens next is entirely yours.”
The butterflies in her tummy were shaking wildly, little bombs on the verge of exploding and taking her with them. The visual that refused to leave her head was of her sitting in the tub, arms hugging her knees to her breasts, her nipples peaked, her toes curling, knowing she was taking too long because she couldn’t stop herself from wondering what it would be like to see Daddy push open the door and give her that look and know she’d passed the point of no return the moment he took that first step inside…
Her knees trembled so badly, it made the silverware on her plate rattle.
Hamish looked at her hands before his knowing green gaze crawled back up to capture hers. Heat blazed through her face, her belly… between her legs. A low throbbing pulse licked her suddenly needy clit. Jesus, did he know about that too? Something in his face convinced her he did.
“Thirteen minutes,” Daddy calmly told her.
Whipping around on her heel, Chloe ran to drop her dishes in the sink. The next she knew, she was in the bathroom, heart pounding in her throat, clit pounding between her clenching thighs, the door slammed shut behind her as she leaned her weight against it.
And shook, and shook…
“Twelve minutes,” his deep voice rumbled from beyond the closed door.
Spurred, she rushed to the bath, stripping out of her bathrobe and jumping into the bottom of the tub. She sat, hugging her knees just like she’d done in her imagination while the water ran, first cold, but gradually warming as it filled.
She shivered, but not from the temperature. She trembled and throbbed, and clenched her hands around her knees into tight fists as she willed her body to stop this whirlwind of confusion inside her. Having Da–Hamish walking in on her bath was not something she wanted. She didn’t care if her consequence was another spanking or, somewhat better, soft caresses of his hands as he “helped” her finish her bath.
Would he wash her hair? Her back?
Would he lift her arms to rub a washcloth over her pits before caressing hot sudsy water across her breasts, down her quivering tummy, dipping in between her thighs with soapy fingers to clean her there too? She didn’t know, and didn’t care. She couldn’t bear the thought, certain she’d melt into a veritable puddle of Littlehood right here in the bath. Already she felt again the prodding of his hard cock poking at her belly the way it had last night while she laid over his knee all shamed and sorry.
Like naughty little girls should be when pinned across their Daddy’s stern knee.
