Page 9 of Daddy's Treat

Looking around the library, finding my little nook abandoned still, I pull out my contraband. There is a strict ‘no food’ policy in the library. One that I absolutely follow, when someone could catch me breaking it. I pop the first orange, yellow, and white piece of heaven in my mouth and groan.

So good.

Like orgasm good.

Maybe not. I’ve never had one to compare it to, but I have to assume these little kernels of joy are orgasmic. They are just that good. Every year when Halloween rolls around, I stock up on bags and bags of the treat. I wasn’t joking when I said it’s the only good thing about the holiday. It’s also the only time of the year you can buy candy corn. And don’t even get me started on that pastel crap they try to pass off as candy corn around Easter. It isnotcandy corn. Or all those crazy flavored monstrosities they’ve come out with the last several years. Why anyone would mess with perfection, I will never know.

The only exception to this rule is the little pumpkins. Those will do in a pinch, though they aren’t nearly as tasty as candy corn. I pop another piece in my mouth.

Okay. Time to study. Focus Penny.

Ten seconds later… I’m wondering what kind of ice cream Kade and Walt ate last night. I bet he’s a chocolate lover. Maybe rocky road. Definitely not a vanilla lover like me. Then my mind jumps to wondering what rocky road would taste like if it came from Kade’s kissable lips. I bet rocky road flavored Kade could convert my vanilla ways.

An hour has passed, and I’ve accomplished nothing but fantasizing about kissing Kade. Okay, there was the fantasy where his big hands didn’t stop touching me when his fingers slipped down to my panties. What would it have felt like if he slipped his fingers underneath and touched me? I shiver at the thought.

I won’t lie. I’ve touched myself down there, and it feels good enough, but I’ve never experienced the mind-blowing orgasms that all the girls brag about. I bet Kade would know exactly how to touch me.

Goodness gracious. What is wrong with me? I have never fantasized about a guy before. Deciding it’s pointless to continue to try and study, I put my anatomy book away and pull out my e-reader. My favorite author, Jane Henry, just published a new book, and I can’t wait to read it.

I’m completely lost in the story in minutes. Except, the hero Geoffrey quickly becomes Kade in my imagination, and I become his bratty student, Giada. In the book, Geoffrey bends Giada over his desk and spanks her for her bratty behavior. Instead of Geoffrey and Giada, it’s me bent over the desk while Kade spanks me, and it’s me that’s begging for more. My stomach clenches when she calls him daddy, and I wonder what Kade would think of that.

He’d probably run a million miles the other direction if I were to call him daddy. I’m not sure how I found the first kinky book I read, but I loved it, and I quickly found a group on social media that shares all the best romance books available.

I’m agoodgirl. I might be a little sassy and snarky when I’m pushed too far, but Iamgood. It’s not that I’m saving myself for marriage or anything like that. It’s more that I’m waiting for someone who matters. So far, I haven’t found anyone who even comes close to mattering. I’ve never done anything like the heroines in the stories I love—even the most fade-to-black books have more action than I’ve seen—that doesn’t stop me from fantasizing about it, though.

I’m jarred from a particularly naughty scene when someone smacks a book down on the other end of the table I’m sitting at. I look around and realize the library has filled up while I’ve been lost in my book. A quick glance at the clock says it’s a little after ten. Too soon to go back to the house, but studying doesn’t appeal in the slightest.

I make up my mind to take a walk. It’s a beautiful morning. Probably one of the last nice weather we will see for a while. I wander around campus for a while, then stop at a little pavilion and drop my heavy bag down. My phone dinged several times while I was walking. I pretended like I didn’t hear it because I know it’s just Lucy or one of the other sisters wanting to know where I am and why I’m not doing my “job.”

When I look at my phone, I’m right. There are five messages, all of them varying versions of the same thing: Where are you? You’ve got a mess to clean up. Though I’m being nice. Lucy is decidedly not nice in how she tells me to clean up the house.

I have no idea what makes me do it. Maybe because Kade’s been on my mind all morning or maybe because I just spent the last couple hours fantasizing about calling him daddy and having him spank me. I pull up his contact information and send Kade a text.

A lame text.

Hi! Thanks again for last night!

Uhm, this is Penny, btw.

I’m sure you knew that. I mean, who else did you save last night?

Maybe a dozen girls. You could be a superhero for all I know.

Anyway. Thanks.

Several lame texts. I’m apparently good a rambling via text message too. Who knew? It’s not like I’ve had many opportunities to text with people seeing as how I have no close friends and no boyfriends, and my family is all old school and refuse to text. Too impersonal. At least I’m consistent. That’s gotta say something positive about me, right?

I nearly drop my phone when it dings almost instantly.

No need to thank me. It was my pleasure. And you’re the only damsel in distress I rescued from killer clowns last night, shortcake.

Butterflies erupt in my stomach at the nickname. I love that Kade gave it to me out of kindness, not because he’s mocking me or making fun or just being cruel. Plus, it’s nice to imagine I’mhisshortcake.

My phone dings with another text.

What are you doing?

Fantasizing about calling you daddy while you spank me doesn’t seem like the most appropriate response.

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